 | The Two Brothers, and other poems |  |
Though the stern struggle of his mission o'er,
The fainting prophet is himself no more;
Though seeing Nineveh is spared, he prays
To finish here his days:
Scorn not the weakness of his faithless fear,
But bend with him a reverential ear,
And catch those gracious accents from above,
Which fill'd his soul with tenderness and love:—
“Thou hast had pity on thy gourd's delight,
Which came, and grew, and wither'd in a night;
Shall I not pity Nineveh, wherein
Are numberless and guiltless herds and sheep,
And infants weeping while their mothers weep,
But knowing nothing of their mothers' sin?”
The fainting prophet is himself no more;
Though seeing Nineveh is spared, he prays
To finish here his days:
81
But bend with him a reverential ear,
And catch those gracious accents from above,
Which fill'd his soul with tenderness and love:—
“Thou hast had pity on thy gourd's delight,
Which came, and grew, and wither'd in a night;
Shall I not pity Nineveh, wherein
Are numberless and guiltless herds and sheep,
And infants weeping while their mothers weep,
But knowing nothing of their mothers' sin?”
Ah, silence here is eloquent—he heard—
His heart was touch'd—he answer'd not a word.
His heart was touch'd—he answer'd not a word.
| The Two Brothers, and other poems | |