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Poems, on sacred and other subjects

and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs

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Hebrew Melodies.
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Hebrew Melodies.

MELODY FIRST. Nahum, Chap. I.

The Elkoshite—by heaven inspired,
When night to western realms retired,
And Sol Philistia's mountains fired—
His face directed easterly.

42

With thrilling heart and rolling eyes
He feels prophetic transport rise:—
“Thy awful doom await,” he cries,
“From Justice, bloody Nineveh!
“Jehovah, though to anger slow,
With indignation red doth glow
To wreak His wrath on thee, his foe,
Thou daughter of iniquity!
The whirlwind, rapid, rolling far,
And clouds, He makes his flying car;
Seas, rivers, by Him dried up are,
Such is His matchless majesty!
“The verdant mountains languish, sere;
The stable hills all quake for fear;
Burn'd up is earth's wide rolling sphere,
Before His dread immensity.
Who can endure His kindled ire?
High swells His wrath, like seas of fire;
Yet proves a Saviour and a Sire
To sons of pure fidelity.
“But grim Destruction's swelling wave,
And dark Oblivion's lightless cave,
Will prove the wicked's sullen grave,
Where reigns eternal misery.
What do ye plot against the Lord,
In impious league, with one accord?
No second stroke his furbish'd sword
Shall seek of you, O enemy!
“For while in union close you lie,
And think no foeman's hand is nigh,
You'll be burnt up, like stubble dry,
Amidst your drunken revelry.
Thy sons of Belial high may swell
Gainst Him who rules in Israel,
Yet, though His millions all rebel,
God rides the car of victory.
“His dread decree is 'gainst thee gone,
Thy power on earth no more is known,
Thy idols vile he will dethrone,
Thee doom to death eternally.

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O Judah, lift thy woe-worn eyes,
Behold thy Saviour to thee hies;
No more shall Belial 'gainst thee rise,
For now he 's vanquish'd utterly.”

MELODY SECOND. Nahum, Chap. II.

Again the Seir raised his voice,
And pour'd the awful doom;
The troops of war, before his eyes,
Presaged destruction's gloom:
He saw unnumber'd banners float,
Turms quick to battle boom,
And thus denounced the City's lot,
While yawn'd the stanchless tomb.
“O Nineveh, destruction's sword
Against thee glances bright:
Secure the fort; let sentry's word
Be heard both day and night;
Attire thy strong with sword and spear
In all their strength and might:
But with thy foe doth God appear,
Thy vengeance to requite.
“The en'my mad, in scarlet clad,
Heaves high the blazing shield;
Their weapons clash; their chariots flash
Like lightning o'er the field.
In rubbish lie the broken walls,
The river's gates now yield,
The flame runs through the palace-halls,
Where pamper'd riot reel'd.
“And Huzzab, weeping, captive led,
Shall leave her stable throne;
Her maids, with eyes like coral red,
Shall loud her fate bemoan.
Thus Nineveh, though old in years,
Must evermore be gone!
The rallying shout though each one hears,
Yet backward look shall none!

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“Rise, seize the spoil of silver clear,
And gold of endless store;
Thy heart with plunder, warrior, cheer—
Her glory now is o'er.
Each heart doth melt, each sinew shrink,
Through pain and terror sore;
Despair doth quite their spirit drink:
They fall—to rise no more.
“Like ravening lions, fierce and dire,
Her children ravaged round,
Despoiling towns by sword and fire,
In blood the nations drown'd.
But God, aroused to flaming ire,
Shall all her power confound;
Nor herald's voice, nor thrilling lyre,
Shall in her chambers sound.”
 

Turms—Troops: used by the old English poets.

MELODY THIRD. Nahum, Chap. III.

This mournful dirge the Prophet pour'd,
In numbers sad and slow,
When low the City lay devour'd
By the victorious foe:—
“Woe to the City! full of guile,
And riches, plunder'd nation's spoil;
No future day shall make thee smile;
Woe! bloody City, woe!
“The crackling whip, the rattling wheels,
And prancing horses sound;
The blood-stain'd chariot, rapid, reels
With dire and deadly bound.
In serried ranks the horsemen rear
The glancing sword, the glitt'ring spear;
And sumless slain, with aspect drear,
Bestrew the bloody ground.
“The comely harlot's witching lure,
(In incantations skill'd,)
And countless whoredoms base, impure,
Thy deadly cup have fill'd:

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For God shall bring thee to disgrace,
And show thy crimes upon thy face:
He'll quite ecscind thee from thy place;
Thy beauty shall be spill'd.
“And all who knew thee once shall flee
Far from thy ruins wild,
Wailing that none can comfort thee,
Of mirth and beauty spoil'd:
For now, like mighty sea-lined No,
Round which prolific streams did flow,
Thou'rt levell'd by the northern foe,
Where tow'ring fanes once smiled.
“Thy children, like the drunkard weak,
Will call for strength in vain,
Or for a place of safety seek,
While red fate guides the rein.
As drop-ripe fruit falls from the trees
When shaken by the slightest breeze,
So will the foe thy ramparts seize,
And level with the plain.
In vain draw waters for the storm,
Or strongholds fortify;
In vain like hills the bastion form,
High heaving to the sky;
For open to the en'my's hand
Are laid the portals of the land;
Their power thy warriors can't withstand;
Flames all thy bars destroy.
Unnumber'd as the heavenly hosts
Thy gilded princes shone;
Like locusts swarming round the coasts
Thy merchants flow'd anon;
In countless troops thy warriors spread
Their serried ranks, the nations' dread;
But, quite ennerved, they basely fled,
And all thy grandeur's gone.
“Assyria's king, now lift thine eyes,
And on thy wardens call;
Alas! no subject hears thy cries,
Thy nobles slumber all!

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At this thy fate all lands wiil sing,
And triumph's shouts around thee ring;
In every breast will rapture spring,
Relieved now from thy thrall.”

MELODY FOURTH. 2d Samuel, I. 19, &c.

Thy beauty, Israel, now lies slain
Upon the mountains high,
Or, stretch'd upon the gory plain,
Thy fallen mighty lie.
Let Gath nor Askelon not hear
Those news, so grating to my ear,
Which will the uncircumcised cheer,
While I do weep and sigh.
May never dew nor rain descend
Upon Gilboa's hills;
Nor off'ring's fume in ether wend
By banks of murm'ring rills;
For there the shield which blazed around
Lies trampled on the blood-stain'd ground;
Thy shield, O Saul, by unction bound,
Lies prostrate at their wills.
The bow doth Jonathan no more
Bring from the foughten field;
Nor Saul, as oft in times before,
His sword, with valour steel'd.
They lovely in their lives have been,
And death them sever'd not, I ween;
Swifter than eagles—on the green,
Like lions, slow to yield.
Weep, Jacob's daughters, o'er his urn,
Who you in scarlet clad:
With voice of woe his slaughter mourn!
Ah me! my soul is sad.
Oh how, within the battle's swell,
Have perish'd they I loved so well?
Could no bless'd arm the stroke repel
Of destiny so bad?

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O Jonathan, to me, thy love
Excell'd the ardent throe
Which doth the female bosom move
To rapture's warmest glow.
But now from me are ever fled
They who so oft to vict'ry led;
The strength of war lies prostrate, dead,
By this marauding foe.

MELODY FIFTH. Proverbs, VII. 6, &c.

The sun was set, and evening grey
Crept o'er the plain, in lieu of day;
The bird of night pour'd forth her lay
Among the sylvan scenery.
Then from my window I did spy
What made the tear conglobe my eye;
What raised the deep heart-burden'd sigh,
And struck the strings of sympathy.
Adown the street, impell'd by fate,
A youth I saw, of airy gait,
Brush swift along, with look elate,
To meet his hidden destiny.
For, lo! a harlot, gaily dress'd,
Him to her lustful bosom press'd,
And hail'd him, as a welcome guest
For her base stanchless lechery.
Her language smooth soon gain'd his heart;
It seized him like enchantment's dart;
Her potent soul-subduing art
Him lured to matchless misery.
Her wiles he had not power to brook,
But instant snatch'd the baited hook,
And virtue's radiant path forsook
To fall through weak simplicity.
Ye youths, attend to this my tale,
Who stray through sleek temptation's vale,
Where thousands fall, which makes them wail
Through time and long eternity.

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MELODY SIXTH. Solomon's Song, Chap. II. III.

My beloved exclaim'd, “Rise, my love, ever fair!
To the banquet of cloyless delight quick repair;
For the winter of sorrow hath fled far away,
And the mild spring of gladness shines bright as noonday.
The flowers of the field now 'mong dew-drops are springing;
From each bush and spray native music is ringing;
Even sweet Philomela, unrivall'd in singing,
Beguiles the lone night with her soul-melting lay.
“Now the young luscious figs 'mong the green leaves are found;
And the rich clust'ring grapes weigh their stems to the ground,
Which with sweet flav'rous scent doth the garden perfume:
Rise, my love! come away: thou art beauty's best bloom.
Among lilies we'll rove till the break of the morning,
And the sun banish night, while the fields he's adorning;
Bound, my love, like a roe, all dependency scorning;
On Bethel's green mountains thy freedom resume.”
By night, on my bed, I did seek for my love,
And yet all my search unsuccessful did prove;
But when I was wand'ring the city around,
To my joy and surprise, my beloved I found.
“O beloved,” I cried, “never leave nor forsake me,
But of thy joys divine let me always partake free;
The daughters of Zion shall never awake thee,
Till in thy soft slumbers all langour be drown'd.”

MELODY SEVENTH. Psalm CXXXVII.

By the banks of Euphrates we sat down and wept,
When we thought of mount Zion, from which we were torn!
On the green waving willows our mute harps now slept,
While they hung on the breeze-shaken poplars forlorn.
For there did our victors rude call out for gladness,
Even those who our spoilers were sought from us mirth;
Saying, “Strike up the lyre, to dispel pensive sadness;
Give us one of the songs of the place of your birth.”

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Shall our hallow'd harps ring in a far foreign land?
Shall we touch their sweet strings at the will of a foe?
Nay; let us lose rather the skill of our hand
Than waft on their ears Zion's grand sacred flow.
O Jerusalem, if I remember thee not,
Let my tongue sleep in silence, and sound never more;
I'd far rather share in thy now ruin'd lot
Than deny thee for all mighty Babylon's store.
Remember, O Lord, Edom's ruthless descendants,
In the red day of vengeance, for Zion destroy'd;
Who cried, “Lay in ruins, to spite our contendants,
Their great boasted city, that hath us annoy'd.”
O daughter of Babylon, doom'd to fell ruin,
The foe soon shall reach thee, our woes to requite;
And to thine own house shall thy children pursue in,
And dash them to pieces before thy dimm'd sight.

MELODY EIGHTH. Isaiah, Chap. VI.

High borne, beyond creation's bounds,
Where spheres unnumber'd fly,
To that pure clime where love resounds,
And rapture fires each eye:
Far, far-receded from the view,
The stars, which gild our arch of blue,
Outshone, by light of purer hue
Which spirits sole can spy:
To that bright region rapt was I,
Where God immediate reigns,
Whose brilliant temple, tow'ring high,
Adorns the spacious plains;
Where seraphs strike the chiming lyre—
Not strung, like ours, with thrumming wire,
But with what suits their glorious choir—
And dulcet vocal strains.

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High on his throne Jehovah sat,
In splendour matchless bright;
But of the angels—none thereat
Could look,—so pure the light!
Veil'd with the wings of awe they stand,
And chaunt their hymns in concord grand;
Or fly like lightning—at command—
Which gilds the vault of night.
Struck with the glory of the scene,
How justly I did cry—
“Alas! should I, of lips unclean,
On heaven's courts dart an eye?
'Mong rebel sinners I do dwell,
Who shun Jehovah's praise to swell;
To me more just the vault of hell,
Where vengeance red doth fly.”
But when a seraph touch'd my tongue
With inspiration's power,
Close to the heavenly cause I clung,
With ecstacies, that hour
A willing messenger, to fly,
At God's supreme behests, with joy;
Calling aloud—“Lo! here am I
To go, though judgment lour.”
Then issued from Jehovah's throne
The message sad and drear:—
“This people spy out, though they 'lone
Possess my records clear.
So, dim the sight of every eye,
And shut all ears that sound comes nigh,
Lest they repentance should descry,
And find forgiveness here.”

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MELODY NINTH. Genesis, VII. 10, &c.

The wind arose, the sky was dark,
No lay was heard from thrush or lark,
Nor swelling wave did stir the Ark,
That sacred safe menagerie:
Till frowning gloom grew darker still,
And sackcloth topp'd each tow'ring hill,
And fear began each breast to fill,
When lightnings burst forth brilliantly.
Then woke the thunder's awful roar,
More dire than e'er was heard before;
And down the heavens their torrents pour,
Round all the black convexity.
In vain do man and beast now fly
For refuge to the mountains high;
The quaking heart and streaming eye
Can not avert their destiny.
The surges swell with rapid sweep,
And cities sink within the deep,
While crowds, assembled on each steep,
See earth turn ocean suddenly.
Both night and day they trembling stand,
Or roam in search of higher land;
But, follow'd by the murd'rous strand,
They sink into eternity.
The rains now stop, the sky is clear;
And now, a shoreless ocean drear,
Earth rolls, a glitt'ring wat'ry sphere,
Beneath the crystal canopy.
Till Ararat's high mountains rise
Majestic to the smiling skies,
Whereon the Ark, safe-moor'd, now lies
In absolute security.