Specimens of American poetry :: :: University of Virginia Library

The garden of Absalom's house on Mount Zion, near the palace, overlooking the city. Tamar sitting by a fountain.
Tam.
How aromatic evening grows! The flowers,
And spicy shrubs exhale like onycha;
Spikenard and henna emulate in sweets.
Blest hour! which He, who fashioned it so fair,
So softly glowing, so contemplative,
Hath set, and sanctified to look on man.
And lo! the smoke of evening sacrifice
Ascends from out the tabernacle. Heaven
Accept the expiation, and forgive
This day's offences!—Ha! the wonted strain,
Precursor of his coming!—Whence can this—
It seems to flow from some unearthly hand—

359

Enter Hadad.
Had.
Does beauteous Tamar view, in this clear fount,
Herself, or heaven?

Tam.
Nay, Hadad, tell me whence
Those sad, mysterious sounds.

Had.
What sounds, dear Princess?

Tam.
Surely, thou know'st; and now I almost think
Some spiritual creature waits on thee.

Had.
I heard no sounds, but such as evening sends
Up from the city to these quiet shades;
A blended murmur sweetly harmonizing
With flowing fountains, feather'd minstrelsy,
And voices from the hills.

Tam.
The sounds I mean,
Floated like mournful music round my head,
From unseen fingers.

Had.
When?

Tam.
Now, as thou camest.

Had.
'T is but thy fancy, wrought
To ecstasy; or else thy grandsire's harp
Resounding from its tower at eventide.
I've lingered to enjoy its solemn tones,
Till the broad moon, that rose o'er Olivet,
Stood listening in the zenith; yea, have deem'd
Viols and heavenly voices answer'd him.

Tam.
But these—

Had.
Were we in Syria, I might say
The Naiad of the fount, or some sweet Nymph,
The goddess of these shades, rejoiced in thee,
And gave thee salutations; but I fear
Judah would call me infidel to Moses.

Tam.
How like my fancy! When these strains precede
Thy steps, as oft they do, I love to think
Some gentle being who delights in us
Is hovering near, and warns me of thy coming;
But they are dirge-like.

Had.
Youthful fantasy,
Attuned to sadness, makes them seem so, lady.
So evening's charming voices, welcomed ever,
As signs of rest and peace;—the watchman's call,
The closing gates, the Levite's mellow trump
Announcing the returning moon, the pipe
Of swains, the bleat, the bark, the housing-bell,
Send melancholy to a drooping soul.

Tam.
But how delicious are the pensive dreams
That steal upon the fancy at their call!

360

Had.
Delicious to behold the world at rest.
Meek labor wipes his brow, and intermits
The curse, to clasp the younglings of his cot;
Herdsmen, and shepherds, fold their flocks—and hark!
What merry strains they send from Olivet!
The jar of life is still; the city speaks
In gentle murmurs; voices chime with lutes
Waked in the streets and gardens; loving pairs
Eye the red west in one another's arms;
And nature, breathing dew and fragrance, yields
A glimpse of happiness, which He, who form'd
Earth and the stars, had power to make eternal.

Tam.
Ah! Hadad, mean'st thou to reproach the Friend
Who gave so much, because he gave not all?

Had.
Perfect benevolence, methinks, had will'd
Unceasing happiness, and peace, and joy;
Fill'd the whole universe of human hearts
With pleasure, like a flowing spring of life.

Tam.
Our Prophet teaches so, till man rebell'd.

Had.
Mighty rebellion! Had he 'leaguer'd Heaven
With beings powerful, numberless, and dreadful,
Strong as the enginery that rocks the world
When all its pillars tremble; mix'd the fires
Of onset with annihilating bolts
Defensive volleyed from the throne; this, this
Had been rebellion worthy of the name,
Worthy of punishment. But what did man?
Tasted an apple! and the fragile scene,
Eden, and innocence, and human bliss,
The nectar-flowing streams, life-giving fruits,
Celestial shades, and amaranthine flowers,
Vanish; and sorrow, toil, and pain, and death,
Cleave to him by an everlasting curse.

Tam.
Ah! talk not thus.

Had.
Is this benevolence?—
Nay, loveliest, these things sometimes trouble me;
For I was tutor'd in a brighter faith.
Our Syrians deem each lucid fount, and stream,
Forest, and mountain, glade, and bosky dell,
Peopled with kind divinities, the friends
Of man, a spiritual race allied
To him by many sympathies, who seek
His happiness, inspire him with gay thoughts,
Cool with their waves, and fan him with their airs
O'er them, the Spirit of the Universe,
Or Soul of Nature, circumfuses all

361

With mild, benevolent, and sun-like radiance;
Pervading, warming, vivifying earth,
As spirit does the body, till green herbs,
And beauteous flowers, and branchy cedars rise;
And shooting stellar influence through her caves,
Whence minerals and gems imbibe their lustre.

Tam.
Dreams, Hadad, empty dreams.

Had.
These Deities
They invocate with cheerful gentle rites,
Hang garlands on their altars, heap their shrines
With Nature's bounties, fruits, and fragrant flowers.
Not like yon gory mount that ever reeks—

Tam.
Cast not reproach upon the holy altar.

Had.
Nay, sweet.—Having enjoyed all pleasures here
That Nature prompts, but chiefly blissful love,
At death, the happy Syrian maiden deems
Her immaterial flies into the fields,
Or circumambient clouds, or crystal brooks,
And dwells, a Deity, with those she worshipp'd;
Till time, or fate, return her in its course
To quaff, once more, the cup of human joy.

Tam.
But thou believ'st not this.

Had.
I almost wish
Thou didst; for I have fear'd, my gentle Tamar,
Thy spirit is too tender for a Law
Announced in terrors, coupled with the threats
Of an inflexible and dreadful Being,
Whose word annihilates, whose awful voice
Thunders the doom of nations, who can check
The sun in heaven, and shake the loosen'd stars,
Like wind-toss'd fruit, to earth, whose fiery step
The earthquake follows, whose tempestuous breath
Divides the sea, whose anger never dies,
Never remits, but everlasting burns,
Burns unextinguish'd in the deeps of Hell.
Jealous, implacable—

Tam.
Peace! impious! peace!

Had.
Ha! says not Moses so?
The Lord is jealous.

Tam.
Jealous of our faith,
Our love, our true obedience, justly his;
And a poor recompense for all his favors.
Implacable he is not; contrite man
Ne'er found him so.

Had.
But others have,
If oracles be true.

362

Tam.
Little we know
Of them; and nothing of their dire offence.

Had.
I meant not to displease, love; but my soul
Sometimes revolts, because I think thy nature
Shudders at him and yonder bloody rites.
How dreadful! when the world awakes to light,
And life, and gladness, and the jocund tide
Bounds in the veins of every happy creature,
Morning is usher'd by a murder'd victim,
Whose wasting members reek upon the air,
Polluting the pure firmament; the shades
Of evening scent of death; almost, the shrine
O'ershadowed by the holy Cherubim;
And where the clotted current from the altar
Mixes with Kedron, all its waves are gore.
Nay, nay, I grieve thee—'t is not for myself,
But that I fear these gloomy things oppress
Thy soul, and cloud its native sunshine.

Tam.
(in tears, clasping her hands.)
Witness, ye Heavens! Eternal Father, witness!
Blest God of Jacob! Maker! Friend! Preserver!
That with my heart, my undivided soul,
I love, adore, and praise thy glorious name,
Confess thee Lord of all, believe thy Laws
Wise, just, and merciful, as they are true.
O Hadad, Hadad! you misconstrue much
The sadness that usurps me—'t is for thee
I grieve—for hopes that fade—for your lost soul,
And my lost happiness.

Had.
O say not so,
Beloved Princess. Why distrust my faith?

Tam.
Thou know'st, alas, my weakness; but remember,
I never, never will be thine, although
The feast, the blessing, and the song were past,
Though Absalom and David call'd me bride,
Till sure thou own'st, with truth, and love sincere,
The Lord Jehovah.

Had.
Leave me not—Hear, hear—
I do believe—I know that Being lives
Whom you adore. Ah! stay—by proofs I know
Which Moses had not.

Tam.
Prince, unclasp my hand.

(Exit.)
Had.
Untwine thy fetters if thou canst.—How sweet
To watch the struggling softness! It allays
The beating tempest of my thoughts, and flows
Like the nepenthe of elysium through me.

363

How exquisite! Like subtlest essences,
She fills the spirit! How the girdle clips
Her taper waist with its resplendent clasp!
Her bosom's silvery-swelling network yields
Ravishing glimpses, like sweet shade and moonshine
Checkering Astarte's statue.

AN APOLOGUE.

In early days, when Fancy sheds
Illusive colors round our heads,
Her prism before my wondering eyes
Display'd the world in rainbow dyes,
Fruits like the emerald clusters found
In Arab tales, beneath the ground,
Woo'd me to pluck from every tree,
As, ere the dew-drops left the lea,
I climb'd the Hill of Hope that stood
Fast by my native solitude.
How fair a prospect met me here!
Of woods, and plains, and rivers clear—
Of neighbor mountains dark and high,
That mix'd, receding, with the sky;
Fields with the waving treasure stored,
Whence rustic plenty decks her board;
Valleys within whose sheltering breast
The sons of labor take their rest;—
But fairer far than aught in view
Beneath the cloudless cope of blue,
More tempting bright, appear'd to me
The smooth expanse of burnish'd sea;
The sea of life, where thousand sails
Spread their white bosoms to the gales.
How blest, methought, along that tide
Of waveless beauty still to glide,
Or 'mid those sea-green isles to stray
Where purer sunbeams seem to play!
Where, as the tales of Poets tell,
The lovely maids of ocean dwell!
What rapture, could I steal so near
As once their magic shells to hear!
Or on some coral rock behold
Them sit, and braid their locks of gold!

364

Others have wish'd, and wish'd in vain,
What I, more happy, may attain.

Impatient o'er life's sea to roam,
I lightly bade adieu to home.
Pleased with my bark and snowy sail,
I freely gave them to the gale,
And saw, with triumph, how I flew
Past many a timid, loitering crew.
Less bright, indeed, the ocean seem'd,
Than view'd at distance, I had deem'd,
And lovelier still, and lovelier grew
The softening landscape that withdrew.
When seaward far, I first perceive
The crested billows rougher heave,
And, while a cloud obscures the sun,
Feel the keen gust precursive run
Along the main. Alarm'd to find
Such trackless distance left behind,
I turn'd in terror toward the shore
My venturous prow, but, 'midst the roar
Of volleying thunder, hail, and rain,
That burst tempestuous, strove in vain.
While by the winds my slender bark
Was hurried o'er the waters dark,
Ah! then, how look'd my native dell!
How sweet to fancy, who can tell!

Dash'd on a lonely isle, at last,
I, haply, by the shock was cast,
Beyond the furious surges' reach,
Wounded and senseless, on the beach.
Who to relieve me now appears?
Some Nymph unruffled ocean hears,
On sunny days and silver nights,
Warble along his rocky heights?
Did those fair daughters of the wave
Transport me to their sparry cave,
And singing sweetly in my ear
Recall the spirit to her sphere?
Ah, no! those sirens never rise
But when soft azure clothes the skies,
And all their craggy islets sleep
Reflected in the glassy deep,
And gaudy barks with streamers gay
Are lingering to applaud their lay:
When seas are rough and tempests blow,
They keep their coral bowers below.

365

A hospitable matron bore
My drench'd, cold members from the shore,
Whose humble dwelling ever stood
Open to sufferers from the flood.
Each art reviving there she tries,
Till life again relumed my eyes.
When from the death-like swoon I woke,
She gently thus the silence broke.

“I need not, stranger, ask thy tale;
I saw thee court the fav'ring gale;
I know the picture fancy drew,
Cheating thy inexperienced view.
When, next, on Hope's fair hill you stand,
Take Wisdom's volume in your hand;
Compare the scene, at distance gay,
With what those sacred pages say:
They will reveal the hidden snare,
Life's shoals and quicksands all declare;
They tell of rocks and storms, in seas
That scarcely seem to know a breeze;
Of clouds that fatal tempests hold
Beneath their gorgeous skirts of gold;
When sun, nor star, displays its light,
They can direct your feet aright;
They will exalt your quickening eyes
From earth's poor pageant to the skies.”

Religion thus her thoughts express'd:
I lock'd the counsel in my breast.