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141
THE GAZELLE OF THE MENAGERIE.
Alas! poor Gazelle, from thy loved native mountain,
A captive they 've borne thee across the wide sea!
No more shall the gush of its cool silver fountain,
Or spice-wafting breeze, spring with freshness for thee.
A captive they 've borne thee across the wide sea!
No more shall the gush of its cool silver fountain,
Or spice-wafting breeze, spring with freshness for thee.
Thy spirit is crushed; and its mild glory, streaming,
So pure, from the depth of thy tender black eye,
But seems like a lamp from a sepulchre beaming,
In sadness to waste,—amid silence to die.
So pure, from the depth of thy tender black eye,
But seems like a lamp from a sepulchre beaming,
In sadness to waste,—amid silence to die.
Yet thou in our dear Palestina hast wandered,—
Where still thy lost kindred at freedom may roam,—
Mid scenes that with hopes of salvation are pondered,
When man to his soul reads her Guide-Book for home.
Where still thy lost kindred at freedom may roam,—
Mid scenes that with hopes of salvation are pondered,
When man to his soul reads her Guide-Book for home.
That caged exile foot may have passed, in its fleetness,
Where God once in light on his mercy-seat shone;
Or paused, where the lone desert rose shed her sweetness
O'er ground erst of armies encumbered, and mown.
Where God once in light on his mercy-seat shone;
Or paused, where the lone desert rose shed her sweetness
O'er ground erst of armies encumbered, and mown.
Perhaps thou hast traversed those ancient high-places,
Where idols were broken, and altars were razed,
Of Paynim devotion to show but the traces,
When pure to Jehovah the sacrifice blazed.
Where idols were broken, and altars were razed,
Of Paynim devotion to show but the traces,
When pure to Jehovah the sacrifice blazed.
On Gerizim's crags thou in sport mayst have bounded,
And thence looked below, over Jacob's old well;
Or slept where the war-trump of Gilboa sounded,
And fed where the beauty of Israel fell.
And thence looked below, over Jacob's old well;
Or slept where the war-trump of Gilboa sounded,
And fed where the beauty of Israel fell.
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May be, thou hast ranged where—the skies only o'er him,
With gloom of the wilderness compassed around—
The Saviour's bold herald came crying before him
The tidings to gladden all earth by their sound.
With gloom of the wilderness compassed around—
The Saviour's bold herald came crying before him
The tidings to gladden all earth by their sound.
More grateful the shade, than the broad tents of Kedar
To him who from scathed Idumea roams wide,
To thee may have spread in the patriarch cedar
That hoary Libanus wears, green, on his side.
To him who from scathed Idumea roams wide,
To thee may have spread in the patriarch cedar
That hoary Libanus wears, green, on his side.
Yet wilder in heart, in his wanderings vaguer,
Though endless in being, more brutal than thou,
Deformed to a Moslem, the swart son of Hagar
Hath lurked on thy path, but to make thee as now!
Though endless in being, more brutal than thou,
Deformed to a Moslem, the swart son of Hagar
Hath lurked on thy path, but to make thee as now!
To see thee companion of all I'm surveying,—
This strange congregation, base, fierce, and malign,—
To know how thine innocent heart is decaying,
Faint, home-sick, and lorn,—plants an arrow in mine!
This strange congregation, base, fierce, and malign,—
To know how thine innocent heart is decaying,
Faint, home-sick, and lorn,—plants an arrow in mine!
Thou, beautiful captive! hast none to befriend thee,
Till death come to darken that soul-touching eye:
For thee I invoke him,—to him I commend thee;
O, die, sweet Gazelle! thou art ready to die.
Till death come to darken that soul-touching eye:
For thee I invoke him,—to him I commend thee;
O, die, sweet Gazelle! thou art ready to die.
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