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99

PALESTINA

101

The Battle of the Kings.

Chedorlaomer of Elam,
The eldest of conquering kings,
Established a mighty empire
In the grey beginning of things;
In the plain of the four great rivers
That come from fountains unknown,
In the paradise realm of Babel,
He set and established his throne.
Beside him thundered in battle,
And beside him reveled at feast,
Three monarchs who did him homage
For ancient domains in the east,
The king of the land of Shinar,
And the king of Ellasar's land,
And Tidal king of the tribesmen
Who wander the southern sand.
In the days of our father Abram
These four took counsel to smite
The citied vale of the Jordan
And the hills of the Amorite;
102

They gathered their tufted lances,
They gathered their crescent bows,
And quitted the templed valley
Where arrowy Hiddekel flows.
Athwart the mid-river desert
They spread their locust wings;
Devouring the green oases
And drinking a-dry the springs;
Devouring the shepherd nomads
And the smiths who dwell in caves;
Devouring the trains of merchants,
And leaving behind but graves.
The eastward border of Bashan
They harried with bow and spear;
They smote the giant Rephaim
And the Horite dwellers in Seir;
The Zuzim, sons of the giants,
And the Emim of Kiriathaim;
Yea, all the valley of Jordan
They reddened with blood and flame.
So warring bitterly onward
And filling the earth with wail,
They came to the Dead Sea cities,
The towns of the bitumen vale,
The cities Gomorrah and Sodom,
Renowned in cycles of old
For music and dance and revel,
And for treasure of silver and gold.
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Now Birsha, king of Gomorrah,
Held feast in his tower of pride
With Bera tyrant of Sodom
And many a chief beside;
The table sparkled with goblets
Wrought by the Canaanite,
And the goblets bubbled over
With wine of amber light.
The dancers and dancing women
With wantoning smile and glance,
Wound slowly adown the mazes
Of Ashteroth's wicked dance;
While harp and organ and cymbal
And dulcimer poured their glee,
For the sons of Jubal were cunning
In lands of the bitumen sea.
But right in the midst of the joyance
A whimpering reached the hall,
As though the city Gomorrah
Were wailing already its fall;
And heralds shouted to Birsha
That Kadesh was flaming high,
And that up from the southland desert
Chedorlaomer drew nigh.
Then leaped up Birsha and Bera
With faces like withered leaves,
Forsaking the brimming goblets,
The flesh of sheep and of beeves;
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They called for helmet and buckler,
For javelin, brand and bow,
And swiftly through scared Gomorrah
They hasted to meet the foe;
Commanding heralds to summon
Their allies, the king of Zoar,
And the kings of Zeboim and Admah,
Five kings to battle with four;
Commanding also to rally
And marshal their native powers,
And to set the phalanx of battle
In front of Gomorrah's towers.
Thereon, in the vale of Siddim;
In the vale of the marvellous mere,
Where now the apples are ashes
And the birds soar high in fear;
In the rich, hot Dead Sea valley
The clamor of war began,
The shock of nation with nation,
The wrestle of man with man.
Long wavered the balance even,
Four kings in battle with five;
For long did the brazen tempest
Both forward and backward drive;
For the men of the stranger peoples
Were valiant and trained to strife,
While the men of the Siddim cities
Were fighting for land and life.
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At last the chief of the spoilers,
Chedorlaomer the strong,
Smote Birsha, king of Gomorrah,
With an arrow weighty and long,
That clove his glittering harness
And pierced his wicked heart,
On one side trembling the feather,
On one side gleaming the dart.
Thereon the sheikhs of the city,
Beholding their chieftain fall,
Tottered and tumbled asunder
Like stones of a battered wall;
While, smitten with menial terror,
The common herd turned to fly,
None fearing to stain his manhood,
But only fearing to die.
Then Tidal, king of the Nomads,
Led on his mingled breeds,
And parted the ranks of Sodom
As a lion parts Jordan's reeds;
The rush of his swarthy archers
Was like a hurricane's breath,
And the serpent hiss of their arrows
Fulfilled the noontide with death.
Back reeled the Sodomite bucklers,
King Shinab fell in his gore,
Back trembled the spear of Admah,
The sword of Zeboim and Zoar,
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Till, smitten at every footstep,
The men of the valley fled,
With ear turned over the shoulder
To hear the pursuer's tread.
The bitumen pits of Siddim
Were choked with wounded and slain,
And the yellow ripples of Jordan
Bore many a crimson stain.
Right through the gates of the cities
The torrent of battle roared,
And tower and temple and palace
Re-echoed the clank of the sword.
The carven and molten idols
Saved not their worshippers then,
And the heathen altars were dabbled
With the blood of heathenish men,
While hither and yon the spoilers
Ran, gathering wealth untold
Of armor and goodly garments
And graven silver and gold.
Then perished the wise in counsel,
And perished the strong in war,
While the youths and maidens were herded
And driven to serve afar;
Yea, only a feeble remnant
A remnant goaded and pressed,
Escaped to the arid mountains
That shadowed the sunset west.
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Now Lot, the nephew of Abram,
With sheep and cattle in store,
Wide feeding from mount to river,
Abode in the Siddim Ghor;
In peace abode and in plenty
Till El should punish his sin
Of strife with our father Abram,
The chief of his clan and kin.
The patriarch's beard was lifted
In prayer and his knees were bent,
When the camel-riders of Tidal
Drew halter before his tent,
And leaned on their spears, awe-stricken,
Believing him half divine,
So august he seemed and holy,
And so did his countenance shine.
He knelt, but not to the foeman;
He rose, but drew not his sword.
His soul was bowed in contrition:—
How should he strive with the Lord?
Then Tidal, kissing his forehead,
Said, “Follow, O prophet and priest;
And thou shalt serve at the altars
Of Bel in the templed east.”
So gently the spoilers guided
The chief and his daughters twain,
His herders and flocks and cattle,
In honor along the plain;
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In honor and fear they led him,
Yet suffered him not to go,
For El had blinded their spirits
In order to work them woe.
Now messengers came to Abram,
Who held his pasture and fold
In the country of hoary Hebron,
By Hittites builded of old;
With garments rent and with weeping
They told how a stranger band
Was bearing Lot and his people
To Bel Merodach's land.
Then bowed the reverend ancient.
He bowed and prayed in grief,
“Now help us, El of the Hebrews;
Now guide us and be our chief.
Our foes are many and mighty;
They deafen the earth with boasts:
But thou canst give us the battle,
For thou art the Lord of Hosts.”
This said, his glittering falchion
He girded on, and then
Led eastward his valiant herders,
Three hundred and eighteen men,
With Aner and Eshcol and Mamre,
Three clans of the Amorite,
Who banded with him in vengeance
For kinsmen slain in fight.
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They passed the hilltop of Jebus,
Where Zion now lifts her wall;
They passed the mount of Gilboa
(Since red with the blood of Saul);
They entered the vale of Jordan
And forded the arrowy tide;
At last, in the skirts of Haran
The foeman's camp they spied.
Its countless fires of feasting
Flaunted an insolent glare,
And a clamor of drunken revel
Blasphemed through the twilit air,
The babble of heathen thousands
Who jeered at the captive's moan,
And scoffed at the God of Abram,
And vaunted their idols of stone.
Then said the chief of the Hebrews,
“God giveth them into our hand.
Divide ye quickly, my children,
Each ancient leading his band.
Lie close till the fires are feeble;
Then circle the Elamite horde.
Await my summoning trumpet;
Then strike in the might of the Lord.”
In the thickest of night the signal
Of Abram shattered the gloom;
It roared through the plain like a lion,
It scared like the trumpet of doom;
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While forward the ambushers bounded
Like hunters who close on the prey,
And sought the throats of the heathen,
And slew till the breaking of day.
Full many the sleepers who perished
Or ever they opened the eye,
Or wakened to gaze on the slayer
One terrible moment, and die.
Oh, mighty and swift was the slaughter;
It ran and consumed like a flame.
The corpses were piled upon corpses
Wherever the ambushers came.
And direr yet was the horror
When the rabble of pagans rose,
Drowsy and stumbling and groping,
To battle with unseen foes;
For comrade wrestled with comrade
And people with people strove,
While everywhither, at random,
The arrows of Tidal drove.
In vain the shouting of captains,
The scream of trumpets in vain;
In vain the kings of the nations
Clamored and beckoned amain;
For the very princes and nobles
Recked not of banner or crown,
And the soldiers, maddened with panic,
Went beating each other down.
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Yea, even the glow of morning
Redoubled the crazed affright;
No fugitive turned to chasten
The handful that gored the flight;
The stricken host of the aliens
Dissolved and vanished like dew,
While fiercely our father Abram
Pursued, made captive and slew.
Past snowy Hermon he chased them
To Hobah, beyond the plain
Where ancient Damascus glitters
'Mid olives and figs and grain.
He gathered the beeves and camels
That the archers of Tidal drave,
And dried the tears of the orphan,
And brake the bonds of the slave.
But, gladdest of all his triumphs,
He rescued his brother's son,
His daughters and herders and cattle,
Not lacking a single one.
How beautiful were the kinsmen,
How princely in mien and face,
When, weeping, they kissed each other,
And honored El for his grace!
So Abram returned in glory
The hero of Jordan's land,
While shoutings of grateful peoples
Resounded on every hand;
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Wherever he fared, the elders
Of cities brought corn and wine,
Bowing their heads and revering
The savior of Palestine.
And when to the hill of Hebron
His lordly journey drew nigh,
Melchizedec, monarch of Salem,
The priest of the Great Most High,
Came forth to meet him and greet him
With holy hands lifted in praise,
Came forth to caress him, and bless him
In the name of the Ancient of Days.

Joseph.

Superb in viceregal habiliments,
With Pharaoh's ring on his hand,
He stood in the chamber of porphyry,
The chief of the land.
Sedate, like a king, and yet tenderly
He gazed in the wanderers' eyes,
While meekly they bended and timidly
Looked up in surprise.
His father, the pastures of Palestine,
The gladness of infancy's years,
Arose on his vision, and suddenly
He melted in tears.
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“Behold me, the darling of Israel!”
He cried. “Doth my father yet live?
Mourn not that ye sold me in slavery,
God rules. I forgive.”

Delilah.

The lady of Sorek, Delilah,
Was winsome and gladsome as day;
She smiled on the son of Manoah
And lured him to tread in her way;
Her kisses were sweeter than honey,
And she could betray.
She flattered the hero; she pleaded,
“Now tell me where lieth thy might.”
He told her. She lulled him to slumber,
And shredded his hair in the night.
She opened the gate to her kinsmen,
And murmured, “Now smite!”
O daughter of aliens and strangers,
What child of Jehovah may stand
Who joys in the light of your glances
And loveth the touch of your hand!
His glory and gladness shall tumble
Like houses on sand.
114

Gilboa.

When Saul was king of Hebrews—
Alas, the heedless king!—
Our land was full of sorrows,
Our strength a feeble thing;
For Saul, the false and fickle,
Forgot the Lord's command
To hold in hate the heathen
And drive them from the land.
He spared the life of Agag,
Who ravaged Israel's coasts;
The sons of cruel Edom
Were captains in his hosts;
The bands of thievish Amalek
Bare Ephraim's lance and shield;
Yea, many were the aliens
Who marched with him afield.
Because of this his kingdom
Was rent with grievous ills;
The hordes of gentiles ravaged
Our fruitful vales and hills;
They stripped us and disarmed us
From Jordan to the mere;
Yea, scarce a man in Canaan
Had buckler, brand, or spear.
In all those days of battle
The fiercest of our foes
Were they who held the seacoast
That south to Egypt goes,
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The pale and tall Philistim
Who came from Japheth's isles,
The men of brazen armor
Who charged in ordered files.
O princes of Philistia,
How often have ye shed
The lifeblood of our warriors
And robbed our babes of bread!
How often have ye herded
Our gracious youths for slaves,
And sold our tender maidens
Beyond the sunset waves!
And now again ye gather
To slaughter us like sheep;
Your tents are pitched in Shunem
Before Gilboa's steep;
Ye lift your gleaming bucklers
Against a naked swarm;
And Israel sees, affrighted,
Your serried phalanx form.
Yea, mighty was the terror
That shook our brothers' souls;
They lurked within Gilboa
Like foxes in their holes;
The hireling braves of Amalek
And Edom ceased to boast,
And even war-worn Abner
Was whiter than a ghost.
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In vain our noble princes,
The warrior sons of Saul,
Went forth with smiling faces
And cheerly spake to all;
In vain the valiant Jonathan,
The kingliest of the three,
Said, “God hath often helped us;
So wherefore should we flee?”
No man of those who listened
Could muster heart of hope;
All eyes were set in anguish
On Shunem's brazen slope;
We heard across the valley
The foe's defiant cheer;
We saw, we heard, nor ever stirred
The livelong day for fear.
Yea, none would leave the mountain
Except the light-armed men;
And they set on but shyly,
And quickly turned agen.
Our slingers lurked in coverts
And cast with feeble throw,
While boldly shot the archers
Who drew the Cretan bow.
So passed a day of waiting
While each surveyed the field,
The foe secure of triumph,
Our hearts prepared to yield;
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So passed a day of skirmish,
And when the sun went down,
No heart, I think, was sadder
Than his who wore the crown.
He sought a lonely thicket;
He bowed his head to earth.
“O El!” he prayed, “O Yahveh,
Who gave the Hebrews birth!
O Mighty One of Jacob
Who brought us from Misraim!
Adoniáh of battles,
I call upon Thy name!
“Thou heedest not our altars,
Though rich with fat and gore;
Thine oracles are silent,
Thy prophets speak no more;
And now thou helpest aliens
To drive us from our place.
O Yahveh of the Hebrews,
Why hidest thou thy face?
“Once more upon thy people
Let all thy mercies shine;
Send down some helping angel,
Accord some gracious sign;
Fulfill our hearts with valiance,
Strike dumb the heathens' boasts;
And when we smite for Israel,
Be there, O Lord of Hosts!”
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He prayed; but naught responded;
No seraph flew anear;
No brightness shone of Urim;
No prophet brought him cheer;
And when he sank in slumber
God sent him dreams abhorred:
He woke and cried in anguish,
“I cannot find the Lord.”
He rose; he changed his vesture;
He laid his crown aside;
He called his heathen henchmen,
And through the night he hied.
“I go to seek the wizards,”
He muttered, mad with grief;
“There was a God in Shiloh,
But he is dead or deaf.”
He rode; he came to Endor,
Where dwelt a withered crone
Who ruled familiar demons
And showed the things unknown,—
An evil crone who worshipped
The gods of olden days
When giants reared the temples
Ye find in desert ways.
The sky was hung with blackness,
No aster pierced the night;
Yet far away her cabin
Revealed a spectral light,—
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A light like that which glimmers
From wood of mouldered trees,
A light like that which chases
The galley through the seas.
He won the door and entered,
Yet found no taper there,
Nor ever knew what lustre
It was that rayed the air.
He stood with covered visage:
The beldame rose in dread.
“Why comest thou?” she queried.
“On thee be peace!” he said.
“Fear not, O cunning woman.
No man shall do thee harm.
I come to seek the spirits
Thou knowest how to charm.
Now use thy divinations,
However weird they be,
And summon him from Sheol
Whom I shall name to thee.”
She answered, “Lo, thou kennest
What Saul the king hath done,
How he hath slain my brethren,
The wizards, every one.
Of all who loved the demons
No creature lives but I.
Now wherefore dost thou purpose
A snare to make me die?”
120

“As El of Israel liveth,”
Replied the woful king,
No hurt shall come upon thee
For this or anything.
Now therefore speak the syllables
That even death can hear,
And call the awful spirit
Of Samuel, the Seer.”
Her evil spells she muttered,
She wrought her magic might;
Then suddenly she uttered
A cry of great affright.
“Why seekest thou,” she clamored,
“To lure me to my fall?
No common mortal art thou.
I know thee; thou art Saul.”—
“Be not afraid,” he bade her;
“What thing beholdest thou?”—
“I see the gods ascending
From earth,” she said. “And now
I see behind them follow
An elder bent with years,
Whose mantle hides his visage,
As is the wont of seers.”
Then quickly bowed the monarch,
He bowed upon his face,
For well he knew the prophet,
And much he craved his grace.
121

Alas, the king of sorrows!
How bitter was his dole
When sternly said the awful dead,
“Why troublest thou my soul?”
“Forgive me, O my father!”
Returned the stricken chief.
“The grave's repose is sacred,
But sacred too is grief.
I dared to vex thy slumber
Because our need is sore,
For Israel's foes are mighty
And Yahveh helps no more.
“The legions of Philistim
Have gathered like a flood;
To-morrow morn the battle
Will roll its robes in blood;
Our breasts are bare of harness,
Our bravest are dismayed,
And Jacob's stem will perish
Unless the Lord shall aid.
“In vain I seek his visage,
In vain my altars rise;
He answers not by Urim,
Nor dreams, nor prophesies;
Wherefore, thou mighty phantom,
I dare to break thy sleep,
And ask how Ephraim's shepherd
May save his feeble sheep.”
122

Then said the seer of Sheol,
“Why comest thou to me?
If God refuse his guidance,
What guidance can there be?
Behold the Lord performeth
According to his word;
The armies of the heathen
Are but Jehovah's sword.
“Go forth to fight and perish!
Death calls the mighty ones;
Yea, where I am thou comest,
To-morrow, with thy sons,
Thy princes and thy captains
And all the Hebrew band;
For El will help Philistia,
And none can stay His hand.”
Thus spake the bodeful phantom,
And vanished into space,
While, crushed with grief, the fated chief
Fell fainting on his face.
What king had ever sorrow
So terrible as Saul,
Foredoomed to lose his people,
His crown, his sons, his all?
Alas! his swooning passes;
Its mercy may not stay;
He rises, mounts his courser
And swiftly rides away.
123

He goes to death, yet hastens
Without a halt or moan;
He speeds to fall with Israel,
His children and his throne.
Gilboa glowed with sunrise
When battle climbed its height;
On spear and shield and corselet
Fell sweet the morning light.
How splendid were the warriors
Who charged the Hebrew hold!
Yea, glorious was Philistia
With brass and steel and gold.
From rock to thicket clamber
The lurking Cherethites;
Their feathered arrows whistle
In swift and deadly flights;
From covert on to covert
The cunning archers win,
And slowly drive before them
The slings of Benjamin.
Behind, the spearmen follow
In deep and steady ranks;
Their pikes are dense as thickets
Of reeds on Jordan's banks;
Their shields are locked together
In straight and burnished walls,
And all their feet keep even beat
To ringing trumpet-calls.
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What could the sons of Jacob,
What could their fragile darts,
Their feeble wicker bucklers,
Their naked limbs and hearts,
Against Philistia's cohorts,
Complete in brazen gear,
Who pushed with comrade shoulders
The long and weighty spear?
In vain they hurled the javelin,
In vain they swung the brand,
Or crept within the pike-points
To struggle hand to hand.
The shield repelled the missile,
The helmet turned the sword;
And all the while each thickened file
Of spearmen thrust and gored.
On throve the panting phalanx,
With slow and toilsome tread;
But every forward footstep
Bestrode the mangled dead.
Down went the best and foremost
Of Ephraim's mighty ones;
Right in the front of battle
Died Saul's great-hearted sons.
Still sounding high his battle-cry,
Still lifting glaive to strike,
The good and valiant Jonathan
Received the heathen pike;
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And striving hard to rescue
His body from the foe,
His youthful brothers perished,
Returning blow for blow.
Afar, their father knew not
That they had sunk to rest;
He led his lordly household
Against Philistia's best;
Except the ranks of foemen
He saw not anything;
His royal brazen trumpet
Made all the mountain ring:
“And if I die,” he shouted,
“At least I die a king!”
At last one sped and told him
His darling ones were slain.
“Now death,” he said, “is welcome.
O Hebrews, charge again!”
But vain his call for vengeance,
And vain his eager steel;
Down go his first and bravest,
And back their comrades reel.
Back, fighting, bleeding, dying,
The Hebrews reeled in rout,
While forward strove the heathen
With stern, exulting shout.
All over Mount Gilboa
The greaved Achaean slew;
All over Mount Gilboa
The Cretan arrow flew.
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Sore hampered by the tumult
Of bloody flight and chase,
The woful king of Israel
Drew back a little space;
Retired, yet often halted,
Unwilling yet to yield,
Though none remained to help him
But him who bare his shield.
Hard after him the archers
Pursued with twanging bow;
In vain he whirled his falchion
And laid the boldest low;
They rallied and they volleyed,
They beat upon him sore;
And soon his burnished armor
Was dimmed with trickling gore.
So, seeing that his battle
Was drawing to its end,
He called to him who followed,
“Come hither, faithful friend!
Prevent the heathens' boasting;
Prevent their bow and spear.
Strike quickly! Strike and slay me
Before they draw anear!”
“Nay,” wept the loyal servitor;
“I cannot smite my lord.”—
Then bared the king his bosom,
And fell upon his sword;
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Nor deigned the armor-bearer
To draw one further breath;
And there Philistia found them,
Secure and grand in death.
Ye mountains of Gilboa,
Let neither rain nor dew
Bedeck your lofty places
Nor tint your dells anew;
For there the blood of heroes
Was trampled into clay,
The buckler of the mighty
Was vilely cast away.
The beauteous ones of Israel
Are slain upon your heights.
How are the lofty fallen,
The chiefs of many fights!
Oh, tell it not in Askelon!
From Gath withold the voice!
Lest Dagon's prophets triumph
And Dagon's maids rejoice.
Weep, daughters of the Hebrews,
For Saul, the gracious king,
Who decked you fair with scarlet
And golden chain and ring!
For him and for his princes,
The eagles of our pride,
Who lived in lovely concord
And undivided died!
 

Dolmens, menhirs and stone circles still exist in Palestine, especially in Gilead and Bashan.

129

THE PASTOR

131

The Vision.

In thoughts of the visions of night,
When slumber possessed me,
My spirit was seized with affright
And horrors oppressed me.
A phantom appeared to my eyes,
A vapor of error;
I could not discover its guise,
I saw but a terror.
The darkness with silence was shod;
A voice queried lowly:
“Shall mortals be juster than God?
More pure than the Holy?
“In angels He putteth no trust,
They tremble before Him;
How then may the creatures of dust
Approach to implore Him?
“They vanish from morning to eve,
They perish like stubble;
And none who regardeth will grieve,
Or succor their trouble.
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“Their excellence fadeth to naught,
Their gladness to sorrow;
And even the wisdom they taught
Lasts not till the morrow.”

The Despondent.

My days are swifter than a steed;
They find no joy and flee away,
Like eagles hasting to the prey,
Or galleys winged with stormy speed.
I would that I had died in birth,
That I had fallen unto death,
Before I learned to love my breath,
Or tasted one delight of earth.
I should have been as one unborn;
I should have flyted to the tomb,
Unheeding of my early doom
As any moth of summer morn.
Are not my days a feeble few?
Cease then from troubling! Stand apart,
And let me take some little heart
Before I sink beyond the view;
Before I go to sombre lands
Where blindness sits; to lands of night,
Where darkness is the only light,
And Sheol lifts obscuring hands.
133

The Human.

His days are few and full of woe:
He springs and burgeons like a flower:
The sickle finds him ere an hour:
He goeth as the shadows go.
The flower may win a second birth:
But man is dead and vanisheth:
He sighs away his feeble breath,
And who can find him on the earth?
His children grow to power and fame;
They fall to grievous want and sin:
He sleeps his narrow grave within,
Nor cares for all their grace or shame.
He sinks to rest and will not rise:
The firmament shall pass away;
But still he sleeps in calm decay,
And none can make him lift his eyes.
Oh, that thou mightest hide me fast,
Conceal me, fold me safe in gloom,
Yea, draw the curtains of my tomb,
Until thy judgments hasten past!
134

The Redeemer.

Have pity on me, O my friends!
A mighty hand hath touched me sore.
Why should ye chasten more and more
A man whose sorrow never ends?
Ye sit upon the judgment seat;
As gods ye judge and persecute:
And I, shall I be meek and mute,
Like one whose pulse hath ceased to beat?
I would that all my words were writ
On graven rock or lettered page,
That they might last from age to age,
And men might read them every whit.
I know that my Redeemer bides;
I know that in the latter days
His feet shall stand in earthly ways
And search the glooms where sorrow hides.
Yea, though I sleep beneath the sod,
Though worms destroy this strength and bloom,
Yet I shall part the shrouding tomb,
And see my Savior, see my God;
Shall see him for myself alone,
And not with eyes of other men;
Shall look upon His glory when
He lifts me to His gracious throne.
135

The Fall of the Evil.

The evil grow to wealth and might;
Their kindred prosper in their sight;
Their sons inherit long delight.
Their tables groan with costly cheer;
Their hearts are fenced away from fear;
God toucheth not their plenteous gear.
They take the timbrel, pipe and lyre;
Their voices rise in gladsome choir;
The children dance before the sire.
They say to God, “Depart! away!
We hate thy way and flout thy sway.
What profits us to fast and pray?”
They love the law of carnal sense;
They spend their days in opulence;
Then eftersoon they vanish hence.
They cannot keep their faces hale,
Nor bear their wealth beyond the veil,
But fly like chaff before the gale.
In vain ye seek their dwelling place,
The lofty towers, the halls of grace,
The mansions of the princely race.
Long since they vanished from the spot;
Their very glory is forgot;
Men answer back, “We know them not.”
136

The Divine.

On dizzy altitudes he stands;
Dominions glitter in His hands;
His terrors march in awful bands.
Who knoweth how to count His hosts?
His mornings shine on all the coasts;
His glances pierce the realm of ghosts.
He looks upon the moon as dim;
In vain the starry oceans brim;
They seem but darkling voids to Him.
How then should man, the child of dust,
Lift Edenward a brow of trust
Or vaunt himself as pure and just?
His worth is vile, his strength infirm;
He carries death within the germ;
Behold, he seemeth but a worm.
137

THE BARD

139

The Gracious.

O Name all names excelling!
Jehovah! secret name!
Thou hast Thy wondrous dwelling
Above the midday flame.
When I behold Thy wonders,
The marvels of Thy hands,
The temple of Thy thunders,
The moon and starry bands,
Lo, what is man, the human,
That Thou dost grant him grace?
Yea, man the son of woman,
That Thou dost turn Thy face?
Yet Thou hast made him master
Of air and earth and sea,
And crowned his head with lustre,
Viceregal under Thee.
In honor and in station
Scarce less than seraphim,
He ruleth Thy creation
Because Thou lovest him.
O God all gods excelling,
How vast Thy mercies are!
Thy power is past all telling,
Thy grace is greater far.
140

The Deliverer.

How long wilt Thou forget me,
My Lord? Forever?
How long shall woes beset me,
And spare me never?
Alas, Thy face is hidden,
O King immortal!
I stand and knock, forbidden
To pass Thy portal.
My soul is clothed in sadness;
I perish daily;
My foes are crowned with gladness,
And jeer me gaily.
Behold, my footsteps totter
Without foundation;
I walk like one on water,
Nor find salvation.
Consider now and hear me,
O Mighty! Cherish
My fainting life, and cheer me,
Lest I should perish.
O gracious one, my Savior,
I will not quiver,
Nor swerve, nor change behavior,
But serve Thee ever.
141

The Protector.

God bring thee out of harm,
And God be Thy defender!
God show thee that His arm
Is strong and also tender!
He sees thine altar fire,
Thy gift, thine offered treasure,
And grants thee thy desire.
Fulfilled beyond thy measure.
Rejoice, O friends, in Him
Who breaks the bands of sadness;
Let all your banners swim
Above your mounts of gladness.
I know that God alone
Can rescue them that perish;
He bendeth from His throne
To seek, to save, to cherish.
Trust not in spear and glaive,
Nor courser shod with terror,
For steeds are vain to save,
And battles reel in error.
Our savior is the Lord
Who rides upon the thunder;
And when He lifts his sword
The nations fall asunder.
142

The Avenger.

Make haste, my King, to deliver;
Make haste to aid me, my Lord;
Confound and scatter and shiver
All those who hold me abhorred;
All those who weary my soul,
Who chase me with bow and quiver;
Confound their evil endeavor
And bring them to dole.
Yea, those who grin and who chatter,
Who follow with scoffing and leer,
Disperse them, O Helper, and scatter,
Confound and fill them with fear!
But those who seek Thee in sadness,
Who wait for thy coming, in grief,
Make haste, O Giver of gladness,
To grant them relief.
Be swift to aid me, my Lord;
Be swift, O Strong, to deliver;
I hold, I cling, to thy word,
And trust Thee forever.

The Splendor of Jehovah.

Jehovah! reigns!
O earth, bloom forth in smiles;
Be glad, ye rivers, hills and plains;
Rejoice, O multitude of isles!
143

He reigns alone,
Around Him folding clouds and night;
The dwelling-places of His throne
Are justice and eternal right.
Before Him runs a fire
That burneth up his foes;
His lightning through creation goes,
And earth recoils before his ire;
Yea, hills and mountains melt apace
Beneath the splendor of His face.
The heavens declare His holiness;
The nations see His glory shine;
The heathen bow in humbleness;
The gods of every alien shrine
Acknowledge Him divine.
Jerusalem makes mirth;
Her daughters sing in sweet accord
Because Thou comest, Lord,
To judge the earth.
For high above the world art Thou,
Yea, high above the skies
And greater than the graven lies
Whereto the heathen bow.
O ye who love His name,
I pray you hate all sinfulness;
So shall He guard when foemen press,
And save your souls from flame.
144

The righteous walk in fields of light,
In pastures lit by dazzling suns;
Yea, wondrous beams of glory smite
The ways of upright ones.
O spirits pure and lowly,
Rejoice! make jubilee!
For Yahveh giveth you to see
How great He is and holy.

The Unchangeable.

My heart is smitten very sore,
My soul is withered like the grass,
My days like driven vapor pass,
Or bubbles breaking 'gainst the shore.
I wander with the desert birds,
I bide among the owls of night,
While sons of evil brave the light
And deafen earth with haughty words.
Because of Thee my drink is tears,
And ashes are my daily bread—
Because Thine anger flameth red
Against the sins that mark my years.
But Thou wilt turn again to save
The children of Thy holy hill;
And all the cruel Sires of ill
Shall cringe before thy shining glaive.
145

Thy glances pierce the morning's breath;
Thou bendest from Thine azure throne
To hear the captive's whispered moan
And free the spirits led to death.
Of old, beyond our feeble thought,
Before the ages came to be,
Thy fingers made the earth and sea,
Thy hand the astral spaces wrought.
Lo these, the wonders of thy power,
Shall fall like garments to decay;
Their stateliness shall pass away,
And Thou shalt change them in an hour.
But Thou, O Father, art the same;
Thy wondrous, dazzling years endure;
And they shall stand rejoiced, secure,
Who love the beauty of Thy Name.

The Merciful.

I will extol Thee, O my King,
Forever with uplifted face;
Forever magnify Thy grace,
While harp can sound or voice can sing.
Thy works adore Thee, stars and suns,
The stable earth, the flying storms,
The broods unborn, the living swarms,
The multitude of sainted ones.
146

We fall; we grovel in the dust;
Because of sin we cannot stand;
Yet dost Thou reach a loving hand,
As though our sorrow made us just.
The eyes of all look up to Thee:
Because we hunger we are fed:
And if Thou gavest not Thy bread,
How soon our life would cease to be!
But chiefly those who seek Thy throne
Discover that Thy love is sweet:
They never walk with stumbling feet;
They never walk, O Lord, alone.

Adoration.

Ye broods of deserts, isles and wildernesses,
Ye monsters of the den,
Ye gentle flocks and herds whose tribute blesses
The toil of men;
Ye finny habitants of rills and fountains,
Ye songsters of the breeze,
Ye vales, ye oaken hills, ye cedarn mountains,
Ye fruitage trees;
I bid ye praise the Maker who upbuilded
Creation's wondrous frame,
Who jewelled night with galaxies, and gilded
The sun with flame.
147

Ye also, sons of Adam, all ye nations
Of regions far and nigh,
Exalt your antiphon of adorations
To God most high.
Let all adore, the monarch robed in splendor,
The sage with hoary hair,
The mighty man of war, the stripling tender,
The maiden fair;
Ungovernable tempests, fierce commotions,
Of fire and sleet and foam;
Abysses, awful deeps, mysterious oceans
Where dragons roam;
O azure-tinted firmament of waters,
Of thunder, wind and fire;
O sun and moon, O starry sons and daughters
Of God's desire;
O seraphim and angels, bowing lowly
Around the blinding throne;
I bid you praise the Maker, great and holy,
And Him alone.
149

THE BURDEN OF SAMARIA

151

Jeroboam.

O Israel, hearken to me!
Said Jeroboam, the king;
Go not to Zion to bend the knee!
Said the son of Nebat, the king.
A golden Apis I make in Dan,
An Apis of gold in Beth-El;
So bear your offerings, every man,
To them, and all will be well.
Gods are they who brought your sires
From Egypt in days agone;
So gather about their altar fires
And worship from eve to dawn.
I burn the incense, I am the priest,
Said Jeroboam, the king;
O Ephraim, come to my holy feast,
Said the son of Nebat, the king.

Ahijah's Curse.

The blinded seer, the Shilonite,
Ahijah, worshipped Yahveh's name;
And when the queen of Israel came,
An angel brought him second-sight.
152

“Approach!” he bade, “and bow the knee!
I know thee, wife of Ephraim's king;
I know the query thou dost bring.
Go, bear thy husband God's decree.
“‘Because thou floutest Me,’ He saith;
‘Because thou madest gods of gold,
And leddest Jacob from my fold,
I summon Nebat's sons to death;
“‘The dog shall tear them in the street,
The vulture tear them in the field;
Their bones shall whiten, unconcealed,
Beneath the scorn of alien feet.’
“And thou, O weeping mother, fly
To find thy stricken one alive;
Yet even while thy steps arrive
Beneath thy portal, he shall die.”

Elijah's Curse.

O son of Omri, Ahab, king
In Jacob! evil hast thou done
Above the kings before thee. None
Have served like thee the Cursed Thing.
O son of Omri, was it well
To worship molten calves, but thou
Must also diadem the brow
Of Sidon's heathen Jezebel?
153

Moreover, thou hast let her rave
Against Jehovah's faithful seers
Till I alone, a child of tears,
Have 'scaped the slayer's bloody glaive.
Yea, lofty stones of Ashtar, and
A fane to Sidon's brazen Boast,
And altars to the starry host
Beside thine ivory palace stand.
Wherefore, O king, Jehovah saith,
I send thee neither rain nor dew
For years, till Israel shall rue
His wanton ways, and long for death.

Carmel.

The Holy One of Shiloh bade:
“Elijah, speak to Ephraim's king,
And I, the merciful, will bring
My rain anew on hill and glade.”
And Ahab railed: “Art thou the man
Who troubles thirsting Israel?”—
“Not I, but Sidon's Jezebel;
Not I, but Omri's heathen clan.”
“Why should the Highest bless a fold
That turns from Him to ways of death,
Adoring Baal and Ashtoreth
And Jeroboam's beasts of gold?
154

“Why should He pour His fruitful rain
Upon the realm of her who drave
His faithful seers from cave to cave,
And spilled their blood on mount and plain?
“Now gather thou on Carmel all
The prophets of the starry horde
And Arbel's queen and Sidon's lord;
Yea, whoso scoffs at Yahveh's call.
“And they shall cry to gods of stone,
And I to El's eternal name;
And whoso sends consuming flame,
The earth shall hail him God alone.”
O fire of Heaven! Sinai's breath!
Elijah's altar blazes high!
The priests of Baal and Ashtar lie
By Kishon's river, dumb in death.
Then wailed the Canaanitish queen:
“O gods infernal! Death and Fear!
Avenge me on this bloody seer!
Or slay me also, gods unseen!”

The Death of Ahab.

To Yahveh's prophet Ahab cried:
“Shall Ephraim's host to battle go,
And Judah lift the spear and bow
Against Benhadad's armored pride?”
155

“Yea, go and prosper,” scoffed the seer.
“Have not the oracles of Baal
Assured thee triumph over all?
Why seekest thou the future here?
“But canst thou bear Jehovah's word?
I saw thy people scattered far,
Like sheep upon a mountain scar:
And, ‘These are masterless!’ I heard.”
So Ahab changed his broidered cloak,
And laid his golden armor by;
Then raised his lordly battle-cry,
And through the ranks of Syria broke.
A nameless Aramean drew
A random arrow, aimed by chance;
But Yahveh winged the fragile lance,
And smote the jointed harness through.
Thereon the king: “O charioteer,
Turn thou aside, for I must die;
But let no soldier come anigh,
Lest Ephraim yield in panic fear.”
At even, when the chariot fled,
The king alone knew not defeat.
His warder stayed him in his seat,
Erect and proud. The king was dead.
156

Jezebel at the Window.

She decked herself with chain and ring,
She rouged her cheek and tyred her fleece,
Yet ever shrilled, “Had Zimri peace?
Had Zimri peace who slew his king?”
She trembled not at treason's horde,
She fronted Jehu's lion eye,
Nor ceased to shriek that boding cry,
“Had Zimri peace who slew his lord?”
“Ho there, above! who stands for me?”
The slayer clamored: “Fling her down!” * * *
O Sidon's lineage! Ephraim's crown!
O what a fall was there to see!
Her royal blood besprinkled horse
And wheel and wall and trampling foot;
Her gracious beauty gorged the brute
That snarled above her queenly corse.

Hosea's Curse.

Ephraim forgetteth Sinai's El,
And buildeth fanes to calves of gold;
His Baalim-stones are manifold,
His altars burden hill and dell.
Yet shall he tremble with affright
Because of the shame of Beth Aven,
Where batten the vulture and raven,
And smoke of offering dims the sight.
157

Beth Aven, sin of Israel, cry!
Thy shafts of Ashteroth shall fall,
And thorn and thistle cover all
The altars where thy Baalim lie.
Behold, thy glory disappears!
The idols of Jacob are shattered,
The hosts of Samaria scattered,
And none shall dry the captive's tears.
The Ninevite shall tread your land
Your palaces shall hear his mirth,
And you shall bring your children forth,
And give them to the slayer's hand.
159

THE STORY OF JERUSALEM

161

The Messenger.

I saw the Mighty on His throne,
Uplifted, awful, beautiful,
His angels round him thronging full
The temple to its topmost stone.
Above Him soared the seraphim
With pinions folded o'er the face
Because the brightness of the place
Might make immortal senses swim.
Then one invisible to me
(So dazzled was I by the flame),
Cried, “Holy, holy is his name!
His glory covers earth and sea.”
Meanwhile the brazen gateways reeled
And all the temple rocked in smoke,
So mighty was the voice that spoke,
So fearful was the sight revealed.
Then said I, “Woe is me! undone!
Because I am a man unclean;
And yet my sinful eyes have seen
The Lord of hosts, the Holy One.”
Thereon a seraph flew anear
And laid upon my lips a coal:
162

“Lo this hath purified thy soul
And made thee worthy to be here.”
Then where the glory folded high
A heavenly voice responded low:
“Who is my herald? Who will go?”—
I answered: “Send me! Here am I.”

The Message.

O land of carven imageries,
Where every man doth hew his god,
And every forehead beats the sod
Before the dumb and sightless lies!
The peasant worships in his cot,
The lordling in his pictured hall;
They turn from Thee, both great and small;
Therefore, my God, forgive them not.
The anger of the Lord is rolled
On all the arrogant and proud,
The steeds and chariots clanking loud,
The stores of silver and of gold;
The groves of terebinth and oak
Where Baal delights in dance and song,
And Moloch scowls upon his throng
Of worshippers through flame and smoke;
The beetling towers and battlements,
The marble courts and palaces,
The ships of Tarshish cleaving seas
From isles of gum and frankincense.
163

In that affrighted day shall men
Cast out their idols to the moles,
And hide within the mountain holes,
And fight with monsters for a den.
For terribly shall God descend
Upon the wicked, wicked earth
To sweep it like a besomed hearth
Till Judah's strong delusions end.

The Curse.

The righteous dieth day by day,
The merciful is borne apart;
And none receiveth it to heart,
Or saith, “Behold they 'scape away.”
They 'scape from cruelty and stress;
They enter into perfect calm;
They sleep upon their beds of balm,
Each folded sweet in holiness.
But you, the sons of pagan shame,
Vile heritors of breeds perverse,
Draw near and hearken to the curse
That God hath bidden me proclaim.
O brood unholy, evil born,
Ye mock the voice that angels fear,
Ye thrust the tongue in wicked leer,
Ye open wide a mouth of scorn.
164

On every hill ye worship lies,
In every grove ye mutter spells,
And slay your sons in bloody dells
To gods who cannot hear their cries.
In rivulets of glen and cave
Ye pour your offerings of wine,
And call the senseless flints divine
That glimmer through the senseless wave.
Shall I rejoice, Jehovah saith,
In rites and blasphemies like these,
In dances underneath the trees,
And chants upon the mountain heath?
Behold, when foemen mount your wall,
And ye discern your temples blaze;
When slaughter reddens all your ways,
And spoilers run from hall to hall;
When judgment overtakes your crime,
And ye beseech me from the dust;
Let those deliver whom ye trust,
The tempest-driven sons of time!
165

The Judgment.

Thus sayeth Jehovah, the Lord:
Go speak to the mountains of Zion,
Yea, cry to the valleys and waters:
Behold, I arrive with a sword,
Behold, I come up like a lion;
I come to destroy your high places,
To spoil and defile them with slaughters.
Your idols shall fall on their faces,
Your altars shall totter and crumble,
Your soothsaying prophets shall die,
And there, where your graven gods tumble,
The slain of your people shall lie.
The hand of my fury shall blight
And wither and utterly humble
The oaks of your heathen delight,
The beautiful groves that ye cherish.
The breath of my anger shall waste
Your armies with sudden affright
And fill your strongholds with amaze.
Your populous cities shall perish,
The warders shall fall in their haste,
Shall stumble and die in their flight
And cumber with corpses the ways.
Yea, mingled with imageries shattered
In temples and groves and by waters;
Yea, piled around altars bespattered
By victims of Baalim abhorred;
The bones of your sons and your daughters
Shall whiten unburied and scattered,
To witness that I am the Lord.
166

The Fast.

“Behold,” the sons of Judah say,
“How many solemn fasts we hold!
How many contrite psalms are rolled!
And yet He turns his face away.”
Alas! ye fast for hate and strife,
To smite with cruel fist the poor,
And drive the beggar from the door
That guards your light and pampered life.
Is this the fast that God decrees,
A day for man to scourge his soul
And bow in counterfeited dole
Like rushes smitten by the breeze?
What boots it though ye crawl and weep,
In sackcloth hiding garments fair,
And sprinkle cinders on the hair,
All day upon the ashen heap?
Behold the fast that God ordains:
To break the yoke of wickedness;
To ease the burden of distress;
To loose the slave's and debtor's chains;
To lead the houseless one within;
To cheer his fainting soul with bread;
To clothe him, warm him, in thy stead;
To be a brother to thy kin.
167

Then, when thou askest any boon,
Thy God will answer, “Here am I!”
His sun will rise upon thy sky,
And all thy darkness turn to noon.

The City of Destruction.

Woe, woe to the city imperial,
The delicate city!
There cometh a shadow funereal,
A doom without pity.
Thy daughters walk pertly and haughtily;
They mince as in dances;
They bridle the neck; they turn naughtily
With wantoning glances.
Thine ancients are misers, usurious;
Thy judges are knavish;
Thine opulent ones are luxurious;
Thy mean ones are slavish.
Thy magistrates creep in senility;
Thy prophets dissemble;
Thy counsellors babble sterility;
Thy men of war tremble.
Thou wast altogether victorious
When God was thy pleasure;
Thy visage was shining and glorious,
Thy joy had no measure.
168

But now art thou wayward, undutiful
To Him, thy salvation;
And so art thou blemished, unbeautiful,
A doom-stricken nation.
Because thou hast borne thee exultingly
And trampled the lowly;
Because thou hast chattered insultingly
Of things that are holy;
Because thou despiseth admonishment
And holdest to error;
Thy judgment shall be an astonishment,
Thy scourging a terror.

The Chambers of Imagery.

I saw the image of the Name.
The loins and robe were amber bright,
The waist was girt about with light,
And all above was dazzling flame.
It reached the likeness of a hand,
And bore me 'twixt the earth and sky
To where an idol brazens nigh
The holy fane of Judah's land;
And showed me all the evil ways
Of Zion, lost in unbelief,
And wandering from grief to grief,
From guilt to guilt, in blinded maze.
169

I saw the under courts of sin,
The hidden shrines of carven lies,
The darkling vaults of imageries,
And Judah worshipping therein;
The chosen ancients of our race,
The hallowed seventy, kneeling there,
With solemn eyes and silver hair,
While incense clouded all the place;
Judean maids with humbled head
And ashen locks and rended vest,
Who cut the arm and beat the breast
In wicked wail for Tammuz dead;
Yea, men within the holy gate,
Who reverenced the star of day,
And turned their senseless gaze away
From Yahveh's choir and templed state.
Then said the Holy One, “Behold!
Thou seest what my people do:
Therefore I will not spare nor rue,
But smite them fiercely, young and old.”

The Warning.

Storm out, ye trumpeters of death!
Along my holy mountain, blow!
Awaken larums wild with woe!
Blow, cruel trumpets! spare no breath!
170

For lo, Jehovah's day of might
Is nigh: a day of bitter doom:
A day of darkness and of gloom:
Of thickened clouds and heavy night.
Like morning mists, that overspread
The mountains, comes a northern swarm,
A people great and fierce, whose form
The living knew not, nor the dead.
Before their swiftness rolls a smoke;
Behind them angry flamings rise;
Before, the land is Paradise;
Behind, a waste devoid of folk.
Their guise is like to steeds who stride
And foam along the front of wars;
Their clamor, like to leaping cars
That thunder down the mountain side.
As mighty ones they run apace,
As chosen ones they mount and climb;
Each keeps his even rank and time,
Nor ever falters from his place.
They scale the battlemented walls,
They speed along the city streets;
Behold them in your fair retreats!
Behold them in your lordly halls!
The earth recoils before their tread,
The sun and moon withdraw their light,
The starry armies faint in night,
The hollow welkins reel in dread.
171

Wherefore, renounce your ways of ill,
O house of Judah! Turn! Repent
With eager fasting and lament!
Perhaps your God will pardon still.

The Spoiler.

I bring destruction—hear, O land!—
I bring destruction on your race,
Because ye turn away the face,
Because ye scoff at my command.
What care I for your honeyed cane,
Your smoke of Sheba's frankincense?
Go, take your sacrifices hence!
Your loaded altars burn in vain.
Behold, I lay a stumbling stone
Before you; all shall perish, all;
The fathers and the sons shall fall;
The friend, the comrade; every one.
A people hastens from afar
To desolate your might and mirth;
It journeys from the sides of earth
To seek and overtake and mar.
Their hearts are merciless to slay;
They clamor like the ocean storm;
They brandish bow and lance; they swarm
On horses ranked in war array.
172

Be fearful; hold within the gate;
Avoid the harvests of your field;
They hide the foeman's sword and shield;
On every side the slayers wait.
O daughter of my people, cry!
Cry out with ashes on your head,
Like one bewailing o'er the dead,
For lo, the spoiler draweth nigh!

The Siege.

I seek the fields, the gardens fair,
And stumble o'er the bloody slain;
I creep within the gates again,
And lo, they die of famine there.
The prophet wanders in amaze,
As one who gropeth with the hand;
He knoweth not his native land,
He findeth not the ancient ways.
Why hast Thou scorned Jerusalem,
And hated all Thy holy hill?
Why hast Thou smitten us, until
No hand may heal the broken stem?
We know our wickedness, O Lord,
The wickedness of son and sire;
Yet veil Thy countenance of ire,
Nor hold us evermore abhorred.
173

Because of Thy majestic name,
Because Thy throne is glorious,
Break not Thy covenant with us,
Thy prostrate people, clothed in shame.

Overthrow.

I looked upon the earth; and lo
A hollow void where life was spent;
I looked upon the firmament,
And saw nor sun nor aster glow.
The hills were stricken to their fall,
The mountains reeled like driven waves;
Mankind had vanished into graves,
And silence brooded over all.
The melodists of morn had failed,
The fragrant gardens lay a-waste;
The haughty cities were abased
To ruins, where the owlet wailed.
Because of rushing steeds, and din
Of archers, they arose in flight
To fen and wold and rocky height,
Nor any man remained therein.
Yea, scattered were they; hurled before
The coming of the Lord of hosts;
His anger quelled their swelling boasts
And swept them like a besomed floor.
174

“Because I purposed it,” he saith,
“Because I promised in my wrath,
I will not turn upon my path,
Nor sorrow when they sink to death.
“Because I prophesied their doom,
The land shall lie a wilderness,
The earth shall mourn in sore distress,
The firmament be veiled in gloom.”

Unsepulchred.

The glory of the land hath ceased
And scornful hands bring forth the bones
Of those who sate on Judah's thrones,
The bones of noble, seer and priest;
To scatter them before the host
Of shining heaven, the sun of noon,
The multitude of stars, the moon,
The senseless gods they worshipped most;
And none shall see with pity; none
Shall hide them from the prowling brute;
But they shall lie beneath the foot
Without a covering or stone;
While those who lurk in mountain caves,
The remnant of an evil tribe,
Lean forth with bitter scowl and gibe,
Curse God and men, and pray for graves.
175

The Sorrowful City.

How doth the city bide alone
That lately rang with multitudes,
A queen among the gentile broods,
A princess glorious on her throne!
She weepeth sorely through the night,
Her tears disguise her smitten face;
She wins no comforting nor grace
From those who called her their delight.
Her foes pursued her flying tread
And caught her 'mid the narrow ways;
She bowed her head in pale amaze;
In alien lands she bows her head.
The hallowed streets of Zion moan
Because her solemn feasts are spent;
Her gates are void, her towers rent,
Her virgins weep, her prophets groan.
Because her sins were manifold
Her children bear the heathen's chain,
Her adversaries thrive amain,
Her spoilers riot uncontrolled.

The Lament.

Remember, Jehovah, our strait,
Remember our noyance.
The elders have failed from the gate,
The youths from their joyance.
176

Our fathers have sinned, and are not,
We bear their offences;
The stranger inherits our lot,
The foe our defences.
Our princes are tortured and slain,
Our daughters win scorning;
Our triumph hath ended in pain,
Our dances in mourning.
The temple of God is defaced,
The temple of Zion;
Our beautiful hill is a waste
For foxes to lie on.
Thy kingdom remaineth, O Lord,
Forever and ever;
Why needest Thou hold us abhorred
And pardon us never?
Behold us, O God, we implore.
Behold us in pity;
Restore thy sad people; restore
Thy sorrowing city.

By the Rivers of Babylon.

Beside Babylonian waters
We halted; we rested unsleeping;
We hushed; we remembered the slaughters
Of Zion; remembered them weeping.
177

We covered our sorrowing faces,
Remembering Zion the splendid,
Her grandeurs, her delicate graces,
Now smitten and trampled and ended.
With sobbing and tears we remembered,
And hung up our harps on the willows
For beautiful Canaan dismembered,
For Judah gone down in the billows.
And they who destroyed us, whose fury
Had ravined and torn like a lion,
Said, “Sport ye, O captives of Jewry;
Now sing us the anthems of Zion.”
Ye cruel! our anthems are praises
To God; they are joyous as bridals.
How may we attune the sweet phrases
To chains, amid aliens and idols?
Jerusalem, should I forget thee,
Thou ruin that Babel disdaineth,
Or fail but a moment to set thee
Above every joy that remaineth;
Then perish the hand that hath holden
The harp while our choruses thundered!
And perish the cadences golden
That billowed till Israel wondered!
178

The Vision of the Glory.

I

I sate with those who sighed
In bonds abhorred
Beside the Chebar's alien tide,
And saw the heavens cloven wide,
And saw the vision of the Lord.

II

Behold a northern hurricane
Whereon a monstrous cloud did sit.
Infolding whirls of fiery rain
With amber in the midst of it,
While brightness girdled all again.

III

From out the flying storm
Of circling flame
And luminous amber color, came
Four wondrous living creatures,
Alike to Adam's sons in form
But other far in features;
For each beheld with fourfold eyes
And showed a fourfold face,
One countenance of human grace,
The others lordly beasts in guise,
Expressing things beyond surmise.
179

IV

On fourfold wings they sped
Straight forward, never turning,
Suffused with gleams from foot to head
Like coals of altars glowing red,
Or golden lamps a-burning,
While issued from the spangled splendor
Incessant lightnings keen and slender.

V

Above their foreheads shone,
And trembled as they went,
A plumage woven of the firmament,
In color like a dreadful crystal stone.
The clamor of their wings surpassed
The noise of waters vast,
The roar of rivers downward driven,
The shout of billows tempest-riven.

VI

I saw them fly
Athwart the earth's dominions,
Till suddenly, above the sky,
A mighty voice resounded;
Whereon they drooped their pinions
And stood with faces turned on high
Like creatures all confounded
Because of some great glory nigh.
180

VII

Then, far beyond unaided ken,
Appeared a blinding sapphire throne,
Whereon sate One, sublime, alone,
In fashion like the sons of men.

The Scroll of Retribution.

I saw the great and holy One,
In fashion like a man divine,
Devised of amber wondrous fine,
And filled with flamings like the sun.
Around him bright apparel blew,
Of mingled color, stain on stain,
Like to the bow that follows rain
Because Jehovah's word is true.
Then falling on my face, I heard
A thunder far above my head,
A voice of thunderings that said,
“Arise and listen to my word.
“Arise and listen, son of man!
I send thee to an evil race
That scorns and ever scorned my grace,
Since first its little life began.
“Their utterance is full of stings,
Their looks are sharper than a spear;
Yet, even though they will not hear,
Proclaim the burden of these things.”
181

Then, reaching through the cloven skies,
A hand, resplendent, swiftly stole,
That held the seeming of a roll
And opened it before my eyes.
I looked upon the roll, and lo
'Twas written close on either side;
Yet naught was written there beside
Lamenting, mourning, wail and woe.

The Burden of Tyre.

O island city, throning high
Beside the gate of many seas,
Your tribute comes on every breeze
From lands beyond the circled sky.
It comes in many a galleon
Whose rowers toil on ivory seats,
While blue and purple broidered sheets
Curve out from masts of Lebanon.
For you the Persians bend the bow,
The Gammadim uplift the spear,
The helms of Lybia sparkle clear,
The shields of Lud and Arvad glow.
Your markets echo back the fume
Of merchants come from many a land
Beyond the wilderness of sand,
Beyond the wilderness of spume.
182

Your stalls abound in precious wares:
Judea's olives, balm and grain;
The robes that Syrian maidens stain;
The gleaming ore that Tarshish bears;
The wool of Kedar's sable tents;
Togarmah's steeds and Javan's swords;
The bars of Ophir's aureate hoards;
The spice of Sheba and the scents.
The merchants of a hundred isles
Have made you perfect, full of grace;
The earth is dazed before your face,
The sea entangled by your wiles.
“But you shall perish,” saith the Lord;
“Your glories wither like to flowers:—
Behold I bring against your towers
The King of Kings, the orient horde.
“The king of Babylon shall raise
His mound against your high estate;
His cars shall clash beneath your gate,
His horsemen slay along your ways.
“The isles shall tremble at your fall,
Your sailors stand afar and cry,
And fishers spread their nets to dry
Where beetled once your lordly wall.”
183

The Burden of Babylon.

A noise of steeds and battle-cars!
The Lord of battles calls his bands;
They come from far and foreign lands,
From kingdoms known to alien stars.
The mountains echo back the tread
And shout of nations drawing nigh;
A dust of peoples palls the sky,
As though the sun and moon were dead.
The wicked perish in their wrong,
The arrogance of nobles pales,
The valiant utter woman wails,
The arrow smiteth through the strong.
And glorious, queenly Babylon,
The beauty of Chaldean pride,
Shall be as when Gomorrah died
By Sodom's side in ages gone.
While God remembereth her sin
No people there may build and breed,
Nor Arab tether there his steed,
Nor shepherd fold his flock within;
But all the desert creatures there
Shall habit; bodeful monsters call;
The vulture flap from hall to hall;
The satyr dance in temples bare.
184

In ruined palaces and towers
Shall wail the daughters of the owl,
And slimy dragons crawl and howl
Where lofty gardens hung their bowers.
Her doom is near. O judgment day!
O day of vengeance, when the Lord
Shall lift the bow of Media's horde
And Marduk fall to long decay!

The Feast of Bel.

The golden king Belshazzar
Was full of joy and boast
Because his walls and warriors
Withstood the Persian host.
“Behold,” he cried, “my people,
Your God hath served you well;
So keep ye fair and debonair
The feast of Marduk Bel.”
Then all the Chaldees triumphed
With pipe and dance and song;
From golden wine to golden shrine
They reeled in bacchant throng;
The captains o'er the turrets
Were daft with drink and mirth;
The warders 'neath the portals
Lay prone along the earth.
185

Belshazzar also reveled
Within his marble hall;
He gathered there his damozels,
His queen, his sons and all.
A hundred score of nobles
Caroused before his face,
While dancers wheeled and cornets pealed
And incense filled the place.
And when his heart was merry
With song and jest and tale,
And when his magians anthemed
“O Lord Merodach, hail!”
He bade to bring each holy thing
That Zion used of old,
The candlesticks and vessels
Of argent, bronze and gold.
He bade to fill the goblets
In honor of the fanes
Where Babel's myriads worshipped
And Judah served in chains.
They brought the sacred beakers,
They brimmed them and they quaffed
While priest and knave and lord and slave
Exalted Bel and laughed.
But even while they jested
The king beheld a hand
Against the stone above his throne
Where ghost alone might stand;—
186

A hand! no other presence!
An awful hand! alone!
That scored the alabaster
With writing all unknown.
He saw it bright and blinding,
He saw the fingers gleam;
They traced their mystic message
And vanished like a dream;
But there, distinct, unfading,
Remained the occult words
Above the king's pavilion-rings,
Where none might reach but birds.
Then changed Belshazzar's visage;
It shook from chin to hair.
His lips were dry and ashen,
His eyes were all a-stare.
And like to him his nobles
Uplifted brows of gloom,
For well they spied those lines abide,
And guessed a coming doom.
“Ye priests, ye seers, ye sages!”
The monarch shrieked at last;
“Ye dolts who search the welkins,
Why sit ye there aghast?
Whatever man may open
This secret thing, shall hold
The third high place of royal grace
And wear the chain of gold.”
187

Yet none divined the writing,
They stared with stifled breath;
And there was such a silence
As chills the caves of death,
Until the queen stood forward
Where crouched the king in fear,
And calmly said, “Be comforted!
The man ye need is here.”
“Hast thou forgotten Daniel,
The seer of ancient fame
Who sate before thy father's door
And sentenced in his name?
His God hath made him cunning
In omen, dream and sign;
So let thy heralds call him
To read the mystic line.”
Thereon the holy prophet
Was brought, and thus the king:
“The gods are with thee, Daniel,
To teach thee everything;
They give thee magian wisdom
To render dreams and seize
The hidden light of second sight
And show the dark decrees.
“And now behold this message
Which came, I know not whence.
If thou hast power to solve it
And tell its fearful sense,
188

Then shalt thou wear the scarlet
In Marduk's wide domain
And ride in state from gate to gate
And bear the golden chain.”
“O king,” replied the Hebrew,
“To others be thy meed.
Yet will I read the riddle
And show the things decreed.
O king! the king, the mighty king,
Thy father, ruled the earth
Until he turned from Yahveh
Who gave him birth and worth.
“Then Yahveh veiled his glory,
And drave him forth from men
To herd with humble cattle
And share their food and pen,
Until he knew his error
In lowliness and tears
And worshipped One who rules alone,
Enthroned upon the years.
“But thou hast scoffed at warning
And walked in froward ways;
To Him who gave thee empire
Thou hast not given praise;
And now, behold, thou bringest
The spoils of Zion's shrine
To pour therein for Baals of sin
Thine offerings of wine.
189

“Therefore the Lord appointed
This hand to write thy fate;
The words are words of number,
Of measure and of weight.
Thy sceptred years are counted,
Thy merit strikes the beam,
Thy fair domain is torn in twain,
The Persian comes supreme.”
Then said the king, “O princes,
This Hebrew bodeth ill;
But lo, my word is given,
And kings their word fulfill.
Put on the golden girdle,
Put on the scarlet gown,
Proclaim him third in Babel's herd
And lead him through the town.”
Now if he spake in earnest,
Or wrath, or mirthful scorn,
What man could tell who liveth,
Or ever yet was born?
For even while he mumbled
The bacchant words ye know,
He slept the sleep that bibbers keep,
Nor ever babbled moe.
For El deboshed our tyrants,
The king and all his sons,
The princes, lords and magians,
The chiefs, the mighty ones;
190

He gave them wine of slumber
That they might drowse and die;
That none might rise, or ope his eyes
Till shouting death were nigh.
No warder hears a larum,
No captain lifts his head,
The while a Persian army
Descends the river bed;
And when they wake, their vision
Is dim with trickling gore,
And through the maze of Babel's ways
Dart foemen smiting sore.
Hot herald runs to herald,
Post panteth on to post,
To wake the fated monarch
Who dreams amid his host;
Through many streets their panic fleets,
Through spacious courts they wend
To tell him that his city
Is taken at one end;
To tell him that his warriors
Are palsied with affright,
And all the postern outlets
Are stopped against his flight;
To bid him break from slumber
And rise in lion mood
To crush the foe, or fighting go
To death, as monarchs should.
191

But vainly rode the heralds;
The chasers followed nigh,
And king Belshazzar started
From dreaming but to die.
Great Babylon was hurtled
Like Lucifer to Hell;
Her Nebo bowed in ruin loud
Beside her fallen Bel.
The spoilers were upon her,
They breached her mountain walls,
They brake her brazen portals,
They burned her ivory halls.
In vain her dwellers labored
To quench her funeral pyre;
Her anguish rose in tossing throes
Of all-including fire.
A scream of woman's terror,
A howl of man's despair,
Fulfilled the golden city
From blazing square to square;
The slain of many peoples
Ensanguined all her ways
And redly dyed her arrowy tide
For woful days and days.
Thus God repaid to Babel
The havoc she had hurled
Against our lovely Zion,
The jewel of His world;
192

And ever may His fury
Remain upon the spot
Till Babel's might is wrapped in night,
And Babel's name forgot.

Lucifer.

How hath the strong oppressor ceased
Who smote the lands with tireless stroke!
Yea, he who held the earth in yoke,
The golden city of the East.
Hell rose to meet thy coming tread;
It stirred the ghostly ones for thee;
They scoffed, Art thou become as we?
Behold, like us thou liest dead!
Thy pomp is humbled in the dust;
Thy viols hush their cheerful noise;
The worm is underneath thy joys
And overlays thine every lust.
O Lucifer! O son of morn!
How art thou fallen from thy state!
How art thou vanquished, desolate,
Who trode the sons of men in scorn!
For God remembereth thy boast:
Thou saidst, “I will ascend on high,
And build my throne amid the sky
Above Jehovah's starry host.”
193

Thy purpose was to overstride
The cloudy heights of seraphim,
And reign confederate with Him
Whose years eternally abide.
But thou art fallen unto night;
And they who look upon thee there
Shall scan thee with a narrow stare,
As doubting if they see aright;
And say, “Is this the mighty one
Who filled the nations with distress
And made the world a wilderness,
Nor ever let the captive run?”
Lo, many kings of many lands
Sleep grandiose in royal tombs,
Nor know amid their tranquil glooms
The cruel scorn of spoiling hands.
But thou art cast apart like those
Who lie unburied on the field
Where all their might and valor reeled
To death amid triumphant foes.

Appeal.

Oh that Thou mightest rend the skies,
Yea, part the welkin and descend,
While all the mountain summits bend
And melt before Thine awful eyes!
194

Behold, we are unclean within,
Our righteous deeds are rags and grime;
And like the leaves of winter time
We drive before the storms of sin.
Yea, none invokes Thy mighty name,
Or riseth up to crave thy grace;
And thou hast turned away thy face,
Or answered with consuming flame.
Yet Thou art father of us all,
And rulest man with perfect sway;
Thou art the maker, we the clay,
And thou canst bid us stand or fall.
Remember not our deeds of ill,
And be not angry very sore;
Though justice slay us evermore,
Behold, we are Thy children still.
Our hallowed city is destroyed,
Our fathers' land a desert land;
Yea, Zion's broken turrets stand
In regions desolate and void.
Our beautiful and holy fane,
Where Judah worshipped thee of old,
We saw its golden cloisters rolled
In flamings, while we wept in vain.
Wilt Thou forget our many tears?
Wilt Thou forego Thy chastenings?
Return, O Lord, on mercy's wings,
And bring again the gracious years!
195

Hope in Sorrow.

Behold me, the man who hath known
Affliction and scorning;
I wander in darkness alone
And find not the morning.
The hand of Jehovah is turned
Against me forever;
He heareth me not, he hath spurned
My prayer and endeavor.
And yet His compassions are sure
And new every morrow;
Or how should we ever endure
The arrows of sorrow?
Oh, well for a man that he grieve
While yet he is youthful;
Yea, well that he calmly believe
In Him who is ruthful.
He sitteth in silence profound,
Rememb'ring his punishment;
He boweth his mouth to the ground,
Accepting admonishment.
He giveth his cheek unto him
Who executes sentence;
His spirit is filled to the brim
With trustful repentance.
196

For God will redeem us at last,
Though sorely He chasten;
His anger will quickly be past,
His mercies will hasten.
He hates not the children of dust,
To cause them to perish;
And though his resentment be just,
He yearneth to cherish.

The Promise.

O elders of a wicked land,
O people born in evil coasts,
I weary, saith the Lord of Hosts,
Of incense waved by sinner's hand.
I weary of the blood of beasts,
The blackened altars crowned with flame,
The loud hosannas to my name,
The sabbaths, moons and stated feasts.
Your lifted hands I hold abhorred,
So full are they of blood and snares;
Yea, when ye make your many prayers,
I will not hear them, saith the Lord.
Behold, your land is desolate,
Your cities crumbled, wall and tower;
The stranger sits within your bower
And eats the fruit your fathers ate.
197

Go wash you; make you white as snow;
Forsake your refuges of lies;
Deal justly; hear the widow's cries;
Console the orphan in his woe.
Repent; tread softly; walk in fears;
Pray meekly in your secret place;
Seek naught beside your Maker's grace;
And seek that carefully with tears.
So shall your princes rule anew,
Your counsellors arise from death;
I promise it, Jehovah saith,
And all my promises are true.

The Revival.

The Mighty One put forth his hand
And bore me to the vale of bones,
Uncountable as mountain stones
And dry as burning desert sand.
“O son of man,” he said to me,
“Can these be ever made to rise
Anew in gracious human guise?”—
I answered, “It is known to thee.”
Then bade He, “Prophesy and say,
Arise, O skeletons, and live;
And I, the Maker, I will give
Again the life I took away.”
198

According to His word I cried,
Whereon a shaking filled the vale,
A tremor dry as rattling hail,
While murmurs ran from side to side.
From side to side the murmurs ran,
And lo, the bones together drew,
Together closed, together grew,
Till every heap became a man.
Yea, warriors lay in thousands there,
As warriors lie along the field,
The stiffened arm within the shield,
The visage white, the eyes a-stare.
Then said He, “Prophesy again;
Uplift the hand and prophesy;
Command the winds of every sky
To breathe upon these many slain.”
Thereon I summoned, “Come, O breath!
From all the sides of heaven, come!
Inspire the armies of the dumb!
Arouse the companies of death!”
They stirred; they lifted up the head;
In awful lines of war they stood,
A mighty, living multitude
Who knew not they were ever dead.
Then said He: “Thus will I revive
The vanished ones of Israel;
Yea, I will gather them from Hell
And make their very slain alive.”
199

The Return.

Thus saith the Gracious One: Behold,
I bring again my chosen race
To find the father's dwelling place
And rest within the ancient fold.
I gather them from every land,
The hoary sire, the valiant one,
The mother and her little son,
The lame, the blind, a mingled band.
With supplications, moans and tears,
A hallowed, meek array, they come;
And I will lead them to their home
In ways devoid of snares and fears.
My holy city shall arise
Upon the remnant of her wall,
And every turret, gate and hall
Exult anew where ruin lies.
Thanksgiving, praise and holy song
Will echo there; the dulcimer
And tabret set the heart astir;
The dancers wheel in happy throng.
Her multitude will live anew,
Her kings revive the perfect days,
Her temple ring again with praise,
Because my promises are true.
200

Reëstablishment.

Thus saith the Lord of mercies: Lo,
I bring again the captive host
Of Judah from the heathen coast
To build anew the long-ago.
I wash away their many sins,
I pardon every evil thought,
Although against my law they wrought
And pierced my love with keen chagrins.
The many tribes of earth shall fear
Because I lift my children up,
Because I fill their humble cup
So full of comforting and cheer.
Again, yet once again, this land
Of sunny mountain, fruitful vale,
Refreshed by humid western gale,
Yet barren now as desert sand;
This ravined land, devoid of life,
Will see the shepherd fold his sheep
And number them in holy sleep,
Secure from bloody sons of strife.
Again, yet once again, this place,
This Zion, stripped of man and brute,
These dwellings desolate and mute
This temple smitten to its base,
Shall hear the bridegroom and the bride
The gladsome noise of dance and game,
The psalm of those who praise my name,
Because my promises abide.
201

THE NEW GLORY

203

The Man of Sorrows.

He hath no form nor comeliness
Nor beauty in our sinful eyes;
We look upon him and despise
A visage marred by long distress.
A man of sorrows, known to grief,
We would not take him into grace;
We hid our faces from his face,
And when he pleaded we were deaf.
We thought him stricken of the Lord;
We judged him worthy taunt and blow;
Yet surely he had borne our woe
And been because of us abhorred.
For our transgression was He slain,
And bruised for our iniquity;
Because of Him we do not die,
Nor suffer any stripe of pain.
Like foolish sheep we went astray,
We wandered each his wayward path;
But He alone endured the wrath
Of Him who hates the sinner's way.
204

Afflicted, smitten, bleeding, torn,
He opened not his mouth to weep,
But patient suffered like the sheep
Who moaneth not when he is shorn.
Because He gave his soul to death,
Because he bare the sins of earth,
The world at last shall know his worth
And praise Him to its latest breath.

The Fathers.

The time would fail to tell of those
Who wrought the wondrous deeds of faith;
Who kept their crowns despite of skaith,
And ran their course through many woes;
Who quenched the violence of fire,
And 'scaped the sharpness of the sword;
Who turned to flight the alien horde,
And quelled the lion in his ire;
Of mothers who received their dead,
Through fervent prayer, to life again;
Of men who suffered mortal pain,
Nor ever for deliverance plead;
Or those who fronted scourge and scorn
And biting bonds without regret,
Because their holy thoughts were set
Upon the resurrection morn;
205

While others, hunted, destitute,
Sought refuges in mountain caves,
Or found their nameless, noble graves
Among the coverts of the brute;
Unspotted souls of whom the earth
Was undeserving, though they strove
To lift it on their mighty love
And give its dust some little worth.
All these, whose gracious names endure,
Saw not the Christ that we have seen,
But kept their hallowed hope serene
Because they held the promise sure.

The Heralds.

I saw the seraph seven who stand
Before the awful throne of light,
Each one arrayed in blinding white,
Each one a trumpet in the hand.
An eighth beside the altar came
And waved a golden censer high,
Whose incense sweetened all the sky,
As though the sun were fragrant flame.
Therewith he offered up the prayers
Of that innumerable throng
Who fought against the sires of wrong
And quelled the princes of the airs.
206

Next, taking from the altar hearth
A censer full of ruddy fire,
He lifted it in holy ire
And cast it o'er the trembling earth.
Then lightnings every whither went,
Incessant thunderings were hurled,
And earthquakes tottered round the world,
While answered voices of lament.
Thereon the herald seven arose
And blew their trumpets one by one,
Fulfilling earth and moon and sun
With desolations, dooms and woes;
Till presently, on sea and shore,
Another angel stood alone,
Who pointed to the judgment throne
And swore that time should be no more.

The Golden City.

The elder firmament and earth
Had passed away in awful flame;
Thereon another welkin came,
Another world received its birth.
Then, looking up, I saw descend
The Golden City, strong and high,
Yet clear as crystal to the eye,
Transparent gold from end to end.
207

Its walls were jasper, standing on
A plinth of onyx, chrysolite,
Of jacinth, beryl, sapphire bright,
Sard, amethyst and chalcedon.
From pearly portals argentine
Immeasurable streets unrolled,
With pavements wrought of solid gold,
Yet amber-clear like golden wine.
No temple was there in the place,
No heavenly luminary shone;
The fane thereof is God alone,
The sun thereof, Jehovah's face.
Then, far above all mortal ken,
I heard a mighty voice proclaim:
“Forever holy be His name!
God cometh down to dwell with men.
“He comes to wipe away their tears,
To give the stricken ones relief;
Yea, death shall be no more, nor grief,
Nor any mourning, pain, or fears.”
Then God upon His throne replied:
“Behold I make creation new!
These promises are faithful true;
So write, and let my words abide!”
208

The White Robed.

I saw in wonder-dreams of slumber
A mighty, mingled multitude
Of every region, tongue and brood,
Too infinite for man to number.
With waving palms, arrayed in brightness,
And sounding golden harps, they choired
Round One, in jasper bloom attired,
Who sate a throne of blinding whiteness.
Then spake an elder clothed in glory:
“What men are these in robes of snow?”
I answered: “How may sinner know?
Thou knowest, Lord, their hallowed story.”
He said: “Behold the sons of noyance
Who kept the faith in weary stress,
Nor ever trusted God the less
Because they found no earthly joyance;
“Wherefore the gracious One, the tender
Redeemer, wiped away their tears,
And lifted them to astral spheres
To share His perfect love and splendor.”
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