The heir of the world, and lesser poems

“Rest, reverend patriarch! in thy last repose,
“And soft and holy be thy blessed sleep!
“O'er thy loved form the vaulted tomb we close—
“O'er thee we bend and feel it bliss to weep.
“Rest, Father, rest beyond the woes of earth!
“Seraphic spirits hail thy heavenly birth!

II.

“Great honoured chief! from Egypt's throne we come
“To render reverence to thy mighty son,
“And bear with homage to the sacred tomb
“His sire who stands by Pharaoh's godlike throne;
“Rest in the fulness of thy years and fame,
“O ancient chief! and honoured be thy name!

III.

“Sleep mid the fragrance of thy virtuous deeds,
“And may thy spirit breathe thy heart's perfume!
“While thus I kiss thy brow, my bosom bleeds—
“O that I could sleep with thee in the tomb!
“Rest, Father, rest among thine honoured race!
“Thy lost son bears thee to thy dwelling-place!”

IV.

Such were the sounds from Atad's tented plain,
That warned the nations Israel was no more;
Low murmuring Jordan listened to the strain,
And sighed the notes along his palmy shore,

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And Hebron heard and echoed down her vale
The long, the deep, the lingering funeral wail.

V.

The voice of death went forth o'er Edom's land,
And Seir bewailed in solemn unison;
E'en misbelievers round Machpelah stand,
And mourn the patriarch and the prophet gone,
While on her pillar Israel's earliest love
Stands, welcoming his spirit's flight above.

VI.

Lo! where they move in lengthening march and slow,
The choicest pride and pomp of Egypt's throne;
Their golden chariots in the bright sun glow—
Their chargers move in mournful grandeur on;
Rich purple robes, with grief's insignia bound,
Throw rainbow colours on the fresh air round.

VII.

The long dependent line, that comes and comes,
Still lengthening, as it moves, on either side;
The princely state, that all the scene illumes—
The eloquent still grief—the solemn pride—
All—all proclaim a great good man hath gone,
And left no peer to do as he hath done.

VIII.

Mark him, the foremost of the long array,
The mightiest prince that roams the banks of Nile!
His heart is sad—his soul is dark to-day—
His fixed and thoughtful eye betrays no smile;
Amid his pomp and majesty he seems
Lost in the mazes of dark memory's dreams.

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IX.

And well he may be—'tis the dreaming boy,
The son of Israel's age—the lovely one!
And here he breathes again his native sky,
The lord of Egypt's lords;—and one alone
In the wide world bears loftier rule than he,
The shepherd-boy—the slave of treachery!

X.

Again he sees the vales of Shechem spread
Their bright rich verdure, and the lovely plains
Of Dothan, dotted with white flocks—and red
The vintage opes around its swollen veins,
As when in youth he took his lonely way
To seek his brethren—and now where are they?

XI.

Around him rise familiar scenes, and well
Remembrance keeps his ancient love for them;
E'en to the erring wanderer he could tell
Each spot from Hebron's vale to Bethlehem;
There his mad brethren mocked his misery—
Here bound and sold him—and now where is he?

XII.

Again he hears the cruel taunt and jest—
Again he sees the turban'd Arab band;
His spirit shudders e'en to dream the rest—
The toilsome journey and the foreign land;
Dark o'er his thought the gathering shadows come,
Like wild, gaunt spectres from the haunted tomb.

XIII.

But in a pure and lofty mind the fell
Revenge of grovelling spirits may not rest;
As well might passions, born and nursed in hell,
Riot and rage in Gabriel's holy breast;

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Lo! as the past rolls o'er his thoughtful mind,
He turns and smiles on Israel's sons behind.

XIV.

The pardoning spirit conquers every wrong,
And from worst ill draws everlasting good;
In wo he lives and dies in shame, who long
O'er dark revenge and penal fate doth brood;
The almighty arm, the Almighty One hath said,
Alone must vengeance on the oppressor shed.

XV.

As onward rolled the solemn burial train
Through Hebron's vale, his childhood's home, how sweet
Seemed to the prince those bowers of love again
Where erst a father's smile he used to meet,
Whene'er he came at evening from the field,
And sadly deeds of dark import revealed!

XVI.

How fondly through decay he traced the scene
Of many a happy hour in Youth's fresh spring,
When, his heart gay and as the sky serene,
He went and came like song-birds on the wing,
Blest as a beam of light! and, oh, how fair
The far blue hills hung on the misty air!

XVII.

Then, as he looked and sighed o'er happier hours,
His musings caught a darker hue, and turned
To Israel wandering through his silent bowers
In lonely grief—yes, here he wept and mourned
For his lost son—for Rachel's lovely child,
Year after year till agony grew wild.

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XVIII.

None now were left the good old man could love
As virtuous fathers love their offspring—save
His youngest born, and he could never move
The heart that slumbered in his brother's grave,
Whene'er it ceased to bleed—except when heaven
Revealed a hope by earth no longer given.

XIX.

He put on sackcloth and denied the poor
And worn-out words of comfort all could give;
They could not to his heart his son restore,
And he in mourning for the lost would live,
Till, earth to earth and dust to dust, he laid
His hoary head to rest in Earth's cold shade.

XX.

How could the traitors to a father's heart
Meet the wild eye whose light dissolved in tears?
Or how their tale of tissued lies impart
To a soul darkened by the storms of years?
All but a father, who in love must dote,
Might have seen treachery on the bloody coat.

XXI.

But he, alas! too true to doubt the oath
Of them whose minds beneath his eye had grown,
Believed as virtue smooth vice ever doth,
And mourned in silence, friendless and alone;
While the twin-robbers led their brethren forth
To deeds that stained the young, the blooming earth.

XXII.

The prince wept bitterly as thus he drew
Affection's dusky picture of his wo,
And memory sketched in sorrow's sable hue
The blight of hope his sire was doomed to know,

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While he, the Hebrew boy, through trials bore
True faith and worship to a heathen shore.

XXIII.

The mighty lord of Egypt's garden-land
Could bear no more; upon the solemn bier
He fixed his eye and leaned upon his hand,
Like one whose soul seeks heaven's high holy sphere,
Till paused his chariot at the house of death,
Machpelah's cave—the burial-field of Heth.

XXIV.

There the great father of the faithful slept,
His youth's first love reposing by his side;
And there the sire of countless nations kept
Eternal watches o'er his beauteous bride;
There Laban's daughter slumbered with the dead,
And there doth Israel lay his reverend head.

XXV.

With solemn rite and ceremonial due
They lay the patriarch on his last cold bed,
And o'er him myrrh and balm and spicery strew,
And flowers, bright as his deeds, sweet perfume shed;
There let him sleep for ever undecayed!
The prince kneeled down and to Jehovah prayed.

XXVI.

He rose and gazed on Israel's pallid brow,
And sigh'd and turn'd—and turned and looked once more.
Then from the cave, with mournful step and slow,
Went forth and sealed the sacred temple's door.—
—Far on their way to Egypt's land the bright
And solemn train shed lengthening lines of light.

See Genesis, ch. L.

University of Virginia Library

THE BURIAL OF THE PATRIARCH.

I.

II.