Judah restored a poem. In six books. By Dr. Roberts ... In two volumes |
 | I, II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. | BOOK VI. |
 | Judah restored |  |
79
BOOK VI.
81
ARGUMENT OF THE SIXTH BOOK.
The Jews miss Zorobabel—their grief on that occasion —Ananiah visits the tomb of Misael—Zorobabel returns —They leave Haran—pass the Euphrates—pitch their tents —ascend a hill, whence they see Mesopotamia on one side, and Syria on the other—thro which they march—They pass thro the lot of Asher, and Zebulun, to mount Tabor—Their prospect from thence—they march on to mount Ephraim— their joy on the sight of mount Sion—They go on thro the portion of Benjamin to Jerusalem—they arrive there— Ananiah addresses them—They repair the houses—renew the feasts—lay the foundation of the temple—old men weep —Haggai prophesies—the work goes on.
83
But not Zorobabel. He unobserv'd
Staid lingering in the cave, and all night long
Kept vigils at the tomb. For tho his soul
Was prone to sudden rage, yet from his eye
Oft gush'd the tear of pity, and of love;
Which now o'er Misael flow'd in fullest tide,
His friend, his father. He with filial care
Had watch'd his hoary age, and every wish
Prevented, as it rose. To hear him talk
He left his gay companions. All the sports
Of jocund youth, the festive hours of play,
Or dalliance, pleas'd not him. The pious tale
Of Misael he devour'd with greedy ear,
And sat the summer's day, whene'er he spake
Of Sion, and Jehovah. Strong his grief,
As erst was his affection. O'er the tomb
With folded arms, and downcast eye he stands,
Like monumental mourner, whom the steel
Of dædal artist from the Parian rock
Hath hewn, and o'er the marble's mimic form
Spread the soft grace of sympathetic woe.
Staid lingering in the cave, and all night long
Kept vigils at the tomb. For tho his soul
Was prone to sudden rage, yet from his eye
Oft gush'd the tear of pity, and of love;
Which now o'er Misael flow'd in fullest tide,
His friend, his father. He with filial care
Had watch'd his hoary age, and every wish
Prevented, as it rose. To hear him talk
He left his gay companions. All the sports
Of jocund youth, the festive hours of play,
Or dalliance, pleas'd not him. The pious tale
Of Misael he devour'd with greedy ear,
84
Of Sion, and Jehovah. Strong his grief,
As erst was his affection. O'er the tomb
With folded arms, and downcast eye he stands,
Like monumental mourner, whom the steel
Of dædal artist from the Parian rock
Hath hewn, and o'er the marble's mimic form
Spread the soft grace of sympathetic woe.
The rising sun now bids them quit the plains
Of Haran. Flocks, and herds, and pastur'd steeds,
And camels, laden deep with all their stores,
With all their tents, are ready. By his troop,
Four thousand souls, stands each accoutred chief:
All but Zorobabel: he, only he
Is wanting. ‘But without him, who can dare
‘The perils of the way? If he be lost,
‘That gallant spirit, whom fear nor danger awes,
‘Ah! who shall lead the tribes? Even Solyma,
‘Dear Solyma, if he shall ne'er return,
‘To us will prove a land of banishment.
‘Go, search the vale; ascend the mountain's brow;
‘Scour the deep forest; let each trumpet sound
‘Even to his loudest note; and every voice
‘Proclaim him to the ecchoing vault of heaven.’
Of Haran. Flocks, and herds, and pastur'd steeds,
And camels, laden deep with all their stores,
With all their tents, are ready. By his troop,
Four thousand souls, stands each accoutred chief:
All but Zorobabel: he, only he
Is wanting. ‘But without him, who can dare
‘The perils of the way? If he be lost,
85
‘Ah! who shall lead the tribes? Even Solyma,
‘Dear Solyma, if he shall ne'er return,
‘To us will prove a land of banishment.
‘Go, search the vale; ascend the mountain's brow;
‘Scour the deep forest; let each trumpet sound
‘Even to his loudest note; and every voice
‘Proclaim him to the ecchoing vault of heaven.’
While thus the Jews in separate squadrons seek
Their lost Zorobabel, to Misael's tomb
Old Ananiah bends his silent path,
To pay the last sad visit to the spot
Where rests his friend, to kiss the sacred earth,
And vent in tears the sorrows of his soul,
The luxury of grief; for even from youth,
From earliest childhood, were they bound with cords
Of strictest amity: together both
Were driven from Salem to Chaldæan plains;
Together both defied Nebassar's rage,
Safe in the burning flames; and all the hours
Of gloomy banishment together cheer'd
By courteous friendship, and by mutual love.
Their lost Zorobabel, to Misael's tomb
Old Ananiah bends his silent path,
To pay the last sad visit to the spot
Where rests his friend, to kiss the sacred earth,
And vent in tears the sorrows of his soul,
The luxury of grief; for even from youth,
From earliest childhood, were they bound with cords
86
Were driven from Salem to Chaldæan plains;
Together both defied Nebassar's rage,
Safe in the burning flames; and all the hours
Of gloomy banishment together cheer'd
By courteous friendship, and by mutual love.
Now Shadrach bow'd his hoary head beneath
The rock's low-arched entrance. Soon he spied
By the faint light, which scarce the orient sun
Shot thro the murky cave, Zorobabel,
Desire of Judah's sons, in pensive mood
Immoveable. He saw him; but the youth
Mark'd not the reverend ancient. ‘Stand'st thou thus,
‘Stand'st thou, Zorobabel, thus weeping here,’
Exclaims the sage? ‘Nor do I blame thy tears;
‘Tears are the dews which soft compassion sheds,
‘The sweet milk of the soul. To man alone
‘Is given the glorious privilege to weep;
‘The beast enjoys it not. Soft are the drops
‘Which fall from widow's, and from orphan's eye,
‘Melting even hearts of stone; but graceful most,
‘When from the virtuous, and the brave they gush
‘In tender sympathy. They are a debt
‘Thou owest the dead; yet still the living claim
‘Thy first attention. Haste; thy drooping friends
‘Already deem thee lost; and should'st thou stay
‘Yet longer, thro the afflicted tents will spread
‘Despair, and wild dismay.’ The youth bows low,
Nor other answer gives, but towards the camp
With arms still folded, and with downcast eye,
Directs his measured steps. Bäanah first,
And Nehemiah, thro the interstice rare
Of oak, or branching palm, that o'er the tomb
Of Misael wav'd its leaves, observ'd him come,
Themselves unnotic'd. They with hasty step
Run forward, and proclaim their champion safe,
Whom now a numerous host receives with joy
Extravagant; and tho but one night lost,
Such transport swells their souls, as when a ship
With sails, and ensigns torn, bears safe to port
Some mariner, whom storms, and adverse winds
Had driven to desert isle, or continent,
For many a year deemed lost. Him his fond wife
In visions of the night full oft hath seen
Buoy'd by a rudder on the Indian waves,
Or clinging to some rock, whose barren brow
O'erchangs the vast Pacific. Him perchance
His sire hath honour'd with sepulchral stone,
With all his gallant acts recorded round,
Memorial of his fame. Around him stand
His friends, and eagerly devour the tale
Of unfrequented shores, and savage dens,
Rocks, seas, winds, wrecks, and every form of death.
The rock's low-arched entrance. Soon he spied
By the faint light, which scarce the orient sun
Shot thro the murky cave, Zorobabel,
Desire of Judah's sons, in pensive mood
Immoveable. He saw him; but the youth
Mark'd not the reverend ancient. ‘Stand'st thou thus,
‘Stand'st thou, Zorobabel, thus weeping here,’
Exclaims the sage? ‘Nor do I blame thy tears;
‘Tears are the dews which soft compassion sheds,
87
‘Is given the glorious privilege to weep;
‘The beast enjoys it not. Soft are the drops
‘Which fall from widow's, and from orphan's eye,
‘Melting even hearts of stone; but graceful most,
‘When from the virtuous, and the brave they gush
‘In tender sympathy. They are a debt
‘Thou owest the dead; yet still the living claim
‘Thy first attention. Haste; thy drooping friends
‘Already deem thee lost; and should'st thou stay
‘Yet longer, thro the afflicted tents will spread
‘Despair, and wild dismay.’ The youth bows low,
Nor other answer gives, but towards the camp
With arms still folded, and with downcast eye,
Directs his measured steps. Bäanah first,
And Nehemiah, thro the interstice rare
88
Of Misael wav'd its leaves, observ'd him come,
Themselves unnotic'd. They with hasty step
Run forward, and proclaim their champion safe,
Whom now a numerous host receives with joy
Extravagant; and tho but one night lost,
Such transport swells their souls, as when a ship
With sails, and ensigns torn, bears safe to port
Some mariner, whom storms, and adverse winds
Had driven to desert isle, or continent,
For many a year deemed lost. Him his fond wife
In visions of the night full oft hath seen
Buoy'd by a rudder on the Indian waves,
Or clinging to some rock, whose barren brow
O'erchangs the vast Pacific. Him perchance
His sire hath honour'd with sepulchral stone,
89
Memorial of his fame. Around him stand
His friends, and eagerly devour the tale
Of unfrequented shores, and savage dens,
Rocks, seas, winds, wrecks, and every form of death.
And now they quit the solitary fields
Of ancient Bethel, and again behold
The western sun reposing in thy bed,
Euphrates, where thy frontier stream divides
Fair Syria's palmy vales, and vine-clad hills,
From Padan-aram. Here the Jews erect
Their white pavilions on a mountain's brow,
Whose broad base from the marshy bank retires
Five hundred paces. For the impetuous rain
Has pour'd in cataracts, and the swoln stream
Has delug'd all the plain. Here halt the tribes,
Till the deep channel hath again receiv'd
His refluent waves. Nor do they cease meanwhile
To fell the pine, to lop the leafless branch,
And deep within the riven trunk to drive
The forcing wedge. Then with close-twisted cords
They join the solid planks, and bridge the stream
Unfordable. And first the camels pass
Deep laden; next the steeds; then flocks, and herds,
And all their stores; last came the numerous host
In slow succession. Scarce had morning dawn'd
When they 'gan move, and Hesper long had rais'd
His evening torch, or e'er the rear had trod
Syria's flat shore. One night, fatigued with toil,
On the soft bank they rest, and with huge fires,
As ever they were wont, if hill or vale
Supplied fresh fuel, soften'd the rude rage
Of winter, and all his frosts. Yet oft they bore
The parching wind, the pelting hail, expos'd
On some bleak woodless champain. Oft they heard
The famish'd lion roaring for his food,
As on his marshy bed he crouch'd by night
Screen'd by the waving reeds, nor yet reproach'd
The leaders of their way: for fervent zeal
Inflam'd their souls, and every step they trod
Was one step more from Babylonian land.
Of ancient Bethel, and again behold
The western sun reposing in thy bed,
Euphrates, where thy frontier stream divides
Fair Syria's palmy vales, and vine-clad hills,
From Padan-aram. Here the Jews erect
Their white pavilions on a mountain's brow,
Whose broad base from the marshy bank retires
Five hundred paces. For the impetuous rain
Has pour'd in cataracts, and the swoln stream
Has delug'd all the plain. Here halt the tribes,
90
His refluent waves. Nor do they cease meanwhile
To fell the pine, to lop the leafless branch,
And deep within the riven trunk to drive
The forcing wedge. Then with close-twisted cords
They join the solid planks, and bridge the stream
Unfordable. And first the camels pass
Deep laden; next the steeds; then flocks, and herds,
And all their stores; last came the numerous host
In slow succession. Scarce had morning dawn'd
When they 'gan move, and Hesper long had rais'd
His evening torch, or e'er the rear had trod
Syria's flat shore. One night, fatigued with toil,
On the soft bank they rest, and with huge fires,
As ever they were wont, if hill or vale
Supplied fresh fuel, soften'd the rude rage
91
The parching wind, the pelting hail, expos'd
On some bleak woodless champain. Oft they heard
The famish'd lion roaring for his food,
As on his marshy bed he crouch'd by night
Screen'd by the waving reeds, nor yet reproach'd
The leaders of their way: for fervent zeal
Inflam'd their souls, and every step they trod
Was one step more from Babylonian land.
A soft grey light, which ting'd the distant rocks,
Foretold the sun's approach. They rise, they eat;
Then on the patient camels place their tents,
Their implements, their stores. There was a hill,
On whose rough bushy brow the pendant sheep
Nibbled their scanty food; round the steep sides
A stony pathway wound his narrow maze
Mæandring: not one print of foot was seen,
Save of the solitary hind, who stood
Propt on his rustic staff, from the first peep
Of dawn, to when the evening star appear'd,
And bade him haste to drive his little flock
Back to their wattled fold. Zorobabel
March'd first; then one by one the tribes advanc'd
With slow, and cautious step: for to the right
A craggy precipice, abrupt and vast,
Frowns o'er the vale beneath. The van had reach'd
The top, ere yet the rear prepar'd to move.
Nor cease they to unfold their tents; for now
The moon shines bright, and lights the wary troops
Up the rude cliff. Sleep, hard-earn'd sleep, repairs
The labours of the day, till morn displays
The extended landscape to their ravish'd sight.
Here at their feet Euphrates draws his train;
There, far as eye can ken, the orient sun
Gleams on the distant Tigris. Pleas'd they trace
The vales, the woods, the plains, which late they pass'd,
And see, or think they see, that arched rock
Where Misael rests his head. But soon they turn,
And bid a last adieu to that clear stream,
Beneath whose willows oft they sat, and wept.
Westward o'er Syria's palmy vales they stretch
Their eager eyes, to where Orontes leads
His silver flood, and oft at summer's eve
Sees the glad peasant to his cot repair
Laden with clusters, which the lavish vine
Throws o'er the vale luxuriant. Down the hill
They march with easy steps; for broad the path,
And gradual is the slope, unlike the side
Up which they toil'd before, whose mouldering cliffs
The rising sun smites with his hottest rays.
Foretold the sun's approach. They rise, they eat;
Then on the patient camels place their tents,
Their implements, their stores. There was a hill,
On whose rough bushy brow the pendant sheep
Nibbled their scanty food; round the steep sides
A stony pathway wound his narrow maze
92
Save of the solitary hind, who stood
Propt on his rustic staff, from the first peep
Of dawn, to when the evening star appear'd,
And bade him haste to drive his little flock
Back to their wattled fold. Zorobabel
March'd first; then one by one the tribes advanc'd
With slow, and cautious step: for to the right
A craggy precipice, abrupt and vast,
Frowns o'er the vale beneath. The van had reach'd
The top, ere yet the rear prepar'd to move.
Nor cease they to unfold their tents; for now
The moon shines bright, and lights the wary troops
Up the rude cliff. Sleep, hard-earn'd sleep, repairs
The labours of the day, till morn displays
The extended landscape to their ravish'd sight.
93
There, far as eye can ken, the orient sun
Gleams on the distant Tigris. Pleas'd they trace
The vales, the woods, the plains, which late they pass'd,
And see, or think they see, that arched rock
Where Misael rests his head. But soon they turn,
And bid a last adieu to that clear stream,
Beneath whose willows oft they sat, and wept.
Westward o'er Syria's palmy vales they stretch
Their eager eyes, to where Orontes leads
His silver flood, and oft at summer's eve
Sees the glad peasant to his cot repair
Laden with clusters, which the lavish vine
Throws o'er the vale luxuriant. Down the hill
They march with easy steps; for broad the path,
And gradual is the slope, unlike the side
94
The rising sun smites with his hottest rays.
At length a wood receives them, where the fir,
And cypress join their melancholy boughs,
Fit haunt of superstition; dark as eve,
When lingering twilight hovers o'er the hill,
And intersected with a thousand paths
Ambiguous. Here they stop, and from the depth
Of that sequester'd spot, hear hideous shrieks
Of female lamentation, which the trees
Re-ecchoe thro the glade. Now wonder holds
The sons of Solyma, when lo! they see
The Syrian damsels with unsandal'd feet,
And hair all waving, brandish to the wind
Their torches, and with frantic gestures howl
Funereal ditties. They their annual dirge
Were singing in full concert to the shade
Of lost Adonis; while with pious hand
They spread sepulchral branches on the hier,
Where lay his pictur'd image, couch'd on gold,
And finest tapestry. Soon as was heard
The sound of strangers, they with nimble speed
Ran screaming thro the wood, as tho the ground
By sacrilegious footsteps were profan'd,
And all their hidden mysteries expos'd
To eyes unholy. To the vale they flew,
Swift as a routed band, on whose thin'd rear
The insulting conqueror hangs, and wings their feet
With terrour, and dismay. The Jewish host
Wait not their chief's command, but pause awhile
In blank astonishment. Meantime the nymphs
Had spread alarm thro all the neighbouring folds,
And rous'd the peasant clans. But whether fear
Check'd the rude villagers, or Sion's God
Dispos'd their souls to peace, they stood, and saw
Thy sons, O Judah, pass in silence by,
Who now had left the skirts of that brown wood,
And cover'd all the vale. Even when they pass'd,
As soon they did, beneath Gerizim's hill,
Their ancient rivals hail'd them, as they march'd,
With amity, tho feign'd. Yet here not long
They stay; for Lebanon, the northern bound
Of Canaan's portion'd land, uprears his woods,
Those woods, thro which is seen the stately lodge
Of Solomon, on whose gilt roof the sun
Plays with his evening beams. They on the left
Catch the sweet odours, which Hesperian gales
Waft from the scented cedars: on the right
They leave the fertile vale, and luscious fruits
Of fair Damascus, and thro Hoba bend
Their onward way. There Abraham's valiant arm
Smote four confederate kings, that o'er thy vale,
O Siddim, pour'd their troops, and like a band
Of lawless ruffians plunder'd all the stores
Of Sodom, and Gomorrah. Here they pause
And from their feet shake off the unhallow'd dust,
Lest ought from heathen heritage pollute
Judæa's holy soil. And now they pass
The landmark, which divides the promis'd land
From Syria, and in Asher's lot encamp
By Bäal-gad. Rich Asher spread his tents
To Amad, and Alamnelech, and thence
To Carmel westward: towards the rising sun
Beth-dagon was his bound: in Achahaph
He dwelt, and twice twelve cities own'd his sway,
With all their villages. O'er Mizpah's field,
Thro Hammon, and thro Rekob, to the walls
Of ancient Hebron, thence to Cabul's plain,
Where Hannathon o'erlooks the heritage
Of Zebulun, they came. Thro the low vale
Of Jipthah-el they wind their narrow way,
By Galilæan Cana, to the heights
Of Tabor, where the gentile chiefs of old
Zeba, and fierce Zalmunna, slew the tribes.
They in dark dens, and caverns, hid their heads
Inglorious: but the sword of Gideon soon
Aveng'd his slaughter'd friends, hot with the blood
Of Midian's Kings. Downward they turn their eyes,
And all around them view the pleasant plains
Of Esdräèlon; to the east appears
Tiberias; to the west the Tyrian main.
Hence too they see the walls of Nazareth,
Then mean, obscure; since honour'd by the name
Of him, whom there the spotless virgin bore,
Oershadowed by the highest. Here will I pause,
And while I look with holy rapture down
From this high mountain on those favour'd fields,
Where erst thy feet in childhood stray'd, implore
Thine interceding grace for me, for all,
O Saviour of the world! There, till the Spirit
Descended, as a dove, and the loud voice
From open'd heaven proclaim'd thee son of God,
What time the Baptist of the wilderness
Plung'd thee in Jordan's stream, thy days were spent
In innocence, and peace. Within those walls
The virgin saw thee with maternal pride
Increase in stature, as in wisdom's lore;
Those walls, which now, as down his side they march,
The vast opaque of Tabor intercepts
From Judah's host, who pass the shallow ford
Of ancient Kishon, on whose southern bank
Beneath his burthens in a pleasant land
Crouch'd Issachar. Twas there Abinoam's son
Drove Canaan's routed legions, in his creeks
Tho Asher skulk'd, tho Dan unfurl'd his sails,
Tho Reuben heard the bleating of his fold
Inglorious. Jezreel next receiv'd their steps,
Whose walls, whose streets, were sprinkled with the blood
Of Ahab's painted queen. The vineyard still
Remain'd, where Naboth by the tyrant's gate
Possess'd his fatal heritage. Thro half
Manasseh's portion, and thro Ephraim's lot,
By Shechem, and by Jacob's antient well,
With hearts elate, with winged feet they march
To that high mount, where Jeroboam carv'd
His golden idols, where the line divides
Israel from Judah. Far as eye can reach
They see fair Sion's hill, the mount of God,
Object of all their wishes, all their toil,
Turn his broad shoulders to the western sun
Above the horizon's arch. ‘Jerusalem!’
Cries Phanuel, and at once the shouting host
‘Jerusalem! Jerusalem!’ replies,
With heart, with voice united. Not such sound
Is heard, when prison'd in a mountain's side
The impetuous winds burst forth; or from the top
Of some steep precipice the torrent pours
Loud-roaring cataracts: the sailor furls
His shrouds, tho distant many a league, and fears
His shatter'd bark will ill sustain the rage
Of heaven's artillery. Thro thy pleasant fields,
O Benjamin, they move, by Ramah, seat
Of Samuel, and by Beer, where Jotham fled
The fierce ambition of Abimelech
Drench'd in fraternal blood. Thro olive groves,
Thro vineyards, and soft pastures, on they march,
And catch delicious odours, as they pass,
Sweet-scented balm, and honey's fragrant dew.
And cypress join their melancholy boughs,
Fit haunt of superstition; dark as eve,
When lingering twilight hovers o'er the hill,
And intersected with a thousand paths
Ambiguous. Here they stop, and from the depth
Of that sequester'd spot, hear hideous shrieks
Of female lamentation, which the trees
Re-ecchoe thro the glade. Now wonder holds
The sons of Solyma, when lo! they see
The Syrian damsels with unsandal'd feet,
And hair all waving, brandish to the wind
Their torches, and with frantic gestures howl
Funereal ditties. They their annual dirge
95
Of lost Adonis; while with pious hand
They spread sepulchral branches on the hier,
Where lay his pictur'd image, couch'd on gold,
And finest tapestry. Soon as was heard
The sound of strangers, they with nimble speed
Ran screaming thro the wood, as tho the ground
By sacrilegious footsteps were profan'd,
And all their hidden mysteries expos'd
To eyes unholy. To the vale they flew,
Swift as a routed band, on whose thin'd rear
The insulting conqueror hangs, and wings their feet
With terrour, and dismay. The Jewish host
Wait not their chief's command, but pause awhile
In blank astonishment. Meantime the nymphs
Had spread alarm thro all the neighbouring folds,
96
Check'd the rude villagers, or Sion's God
Dispos'd their souls to peace, they stood, and saw
Thy sons, O Judah, pass in silence by,
Who now had left the skirts of that brown wood,
And cover'd all the vale. Even when they pass'd,
As soon they did, beneath Gerizim's hill,
Their ancient rivals hail'd them, as they march'd,
With amity, tho feign'd. Yet here not long
They stay; for Lebanon, the northern bound
Of Canaan's portion'd land, uprears his woods,
Those woods, thro which is seen the stately lodge
Of Solomon, on whose gilt roof the sun
Plays with his evening beams. They on the left
Catch the sweet odours, which Hesperian gales
Waft from the scented cedars: on the right
97
Of fair Damascus, and thro Hoba bend
Their onward way. There Abraham's valiant arm
Smote four confederate kings, that o'er thy vale,
O Siddim, pour'd their troops, and like a band
Of lawless ruffians plunder'd all the stores
Of Sodom, and Gomorrah. Here they pause
And from their feet shake off the unhallow'd dust,
Lest ought from heathen heritage pollute
Judæa's holy soil. And now they pass
The landmark, which divides the promis'd land
From Syria, and in Asher's lot encamp
By Bäal-gad. Rich Asher spread his tents
To Amad, and Alamnelech, and thence
To Carmel westward: towards the rising sun
98
He dwelt, and twice twelve cities own'd his sway,
With all their villages. O'er Mizpah's field,
Thro Hammon, and thro Rekob, to the walls
Of ancient Hebron, thence to Cabul's plain,
Where Hannathon o'erlooks the heritage
Of Zebulun, they came. Thro the low vale
Of Jipthah-el they wind their narrow way,
By Galilæan Cana, to the heights
Of Tabor, where the gentile chiefs of old
Zeba, and fierce Zalmunna, slew the tribes.
They in dark dens, and caverns, hid their heads
Inglorious: but the sword of Gideon soon
Aveng'd his slaughter'd friends, hot with the blood
Of Midian's Kings. Downward they turn their eyes,
99
Of Esdräèlon; to the east appears
Tiberias; to the west the Tyrian main.
Hence too they see the walls of Nazareth,
Then mean, obscure; since honour'd by the name
Of him, whom there the spotless virgin bore,
Oershadowed by the highest. Here will I pause,
And while I look with holy rapture down
From this high mountain on those favour'd fields,
Where erst thy feet in childhood stray'd, implore
Thine interceding grace for me, for all,
O Saviour of the world! There, till the Spirit
Descended, as a dove, and the loud voice
From open'd heaven proclaim'd thee son of God,
What time the Baptist of the wilderness
100
In innocence, and peace. Within those walls
The virgin saw thee with maternal pride
Increase in stature, as in wisdom's lore;
Those walls, which now, as down his side they march,
The vast opaque of Tabor intercepts
From Judah's host, who pass the shallow ford
Of ancient Kishon, on whose southern bank
Beneath his burthens in a pleasant land
Crouch'd Issachar. Twas there Abinoam's son
Drove Canaan's routed legions, in his creeks
Tho Asher skulk'd, tho Dan unfurl'd his sails,
Tho Reuben heard the bleating of his fold
Inglorious. Jezreel next receiv'd their steps,
101
Of Ahab's painted queen. The vineyard still
Remain'd, where Naboth by the tyrant's gate
Possess'd his fatal heritage. Thro half
Manasseh's portion, and thro Ephraim's lot,
By Shechem, and by Jacob's antient well,
With hearts elate, with winged feet they march
To that high mount, where Jeroboam carv'd
His golden idols, where the line divides
Israel from Judah. Far as eye can reach
They see fair Sion's hill, the mount of God,
Object of all their wishes, all their toil,
Turn his broad shoulders to the western sun
Above the horizon's arch. ‘Jerusalem!’
Cries Phanuel, and at once the shouting host
102
With heart, with voice united. Not such sound
Is heard, when prison'd in a mountain's side
The impetuous winds burst forth; or from the top
Of some steep precipice the torrent pours
Loud-roaring cataracts: the sailor furls
His shrouds, tho distant many a league, and fears
His shatter'd bark will ill sustain the rage
Of heaven's artillery. Thro thy pleasant fields,
O Benjamin, they move, by Ramah, seat
Of Samuel, and by Beer, where Jotham fled
The fierce ambition of Abimelech
Drench'd in fraternal blood. Thro olive groves,
Thro vineyards, and soft pastures, on they march,
And catch delicious odours, as they pass,
103
And now appears the ruin'd fane. The tribes
Unbidden on the venerable earth
Fall, and awhile in silent extasy
Lie prostrate. Eager to survey the scene
Of desolation, and with pious lips
To kiss the holy ground, again they rise,
And with uncovered head, and naked foot,
Approach Jehovah's hill. It was a sight
Of horrour; arches, towers, and battlements,
Lay undistinguish'd: here and there appear'd
A beam half burnt, whose shape, whose use, they strove
To trace in vain. Yet on the ruin'd heap
The tribes in rapture gaze; some the firm stones,
Some the loose cement, some the mouldering wood
Embrace, thrice precious relics. With more awe
Their fathers bow'd not in that holy house
Towering in all its pride, and fill'd with light,
Untemper'd radiance of the eternal God.
Unbidden on the venerable earth
Fall, and awhile in silent extasy
Lie prostrate. Eager to survey the scene
Of desolation, and with pious lips
To kiss the holy ground, again they rise,
And with uncovered head, and naked foot,
Approach Jehovah's hill. It was a sight
Of horrour; arches, towers, and battlements,
Lay undistinguish'd: here and there appear'd
A beam half burnt, whose shape, whose use, they strove
To trace in vain. Yet on the ruin'd heap
The tribes in rapture gaze; some the firm stones,
Some the loose cement, some the mouldering wood
Embrace, thrice precious relics. With more awe
104
Towering in all its pride, and fill'd with light,
Untemper'd radiance of the eternal God.
Now the dense vapours rise; now evening draws
Her exhalations from the lap of earth,
When Ananiah, son of ninety years,
Than whom, since Misael dead, no ancient claim'd
More unreserv'd obedience, thus accosts
The tribes. ‘Thrice welcome, ye redeem'd of God,
‘To this your heritage: I bid you hail
‘To Salem's holy walls. Nor do I blame
‘Your eager joy; the occasion well deserves
‘This transport, and the rivers of the soul
‘Will oft o'erflow their channel. But, my friends,
‘Tis not enough to clasp these sacred stones,
‘And chaunt triumphal hymns; tis not enough
‘To tread this hallow'd earth; to pour the blood
‘Sacrifical of goat, or paschal lamb;
‘To celebrate your harvests; to renew
‘The long-neglected sabbath: these, all these,
‘Demand your reverence: but the eternal laws
‘Immutable of justice, and of truth,
‘Of mercy, and of spotless purity,
‘Grave on your inmost souls. And O beware
‘Lest base idolatry seduce your faith
‘From Israel's living strength; twas hence your sires
‘Were driven from Canaan's fields; twas hence ye bore
‘A tedious exile in a stranger's land.
‘That sin repeated will call down from heaven
‘Repeated punishment. Your jealous God,
(‘His name is jealous,) will again avenge
‘His injur'd honour, nor will deign to share
‘His praise with ought created. What tho now
‘Proud Babylon be fallen; tho Persia's king
‘Hath torn the diadem from Belshazzar's brow,
‘And not a remnant of Nebassar's race,
‘Your scourge, be left; yet think not God's right hand
‘Is slacken'd, or disarm'd. His vengeance sleeps,
‘But sin will rouse it; and who knows the extreme
‘Of wrath omnipotent? Around his throne,
‘Waiting his sovran nod, his ministers
‘Ay stand, for speed succinct; the impetuous storm,
‘The roaring thunder, and the lightening wing'd,
‘His fierce companion; famine, pestilence,
‘And fire, and sword. All these in evil hour
‘Our sires have felt; and if we e'er forget
‘His everlasting laws, another host
‘Will rase our walls, another Babylon
‘Insult our sorrows: or perhaps despis'd
‘Even by the gentile nations, we may rove
‘From coast to coast, a vagrant crew, and bear
‘Thro many an age the marks indelible
‘Of God's predicted wrath. As when on some
‘High floor, the indented timber, o'er the sheaves
‘Drawn by slow oxen, parts the solid grain
‘From the light chaff, which on the mountain's top
‘The whistling wind bears with his wings away;
‘As when the joyful hind with naked foot
‘Treads on his purple vintage; so your God
‘Oer heaps of slain, o'er mountains of the dead,
‘Will ride triumphant; on the slaughter'd pile
‘His steeds will trample, and his flaming wheels
‘Drip with the blood of millions. But, my friends,
‘So nature wills, it is the time, when worn
‘By toil the wasted spirits seek recruit
‘From food, from sleep. Prepare your evening meal,
‘And spread your tents. These half-demolished walls
‘Untenanted, where springs the bladed grass,
‘Sad mark of desolation, ill can lodge
‘A band so numerous. When the morning dawns
‘Myself will lead you to each once-lov'd scene,
‘And shew what yet remains, if ought remains,
‘Of Judah's ancient glory. Not a spot
‘But what for pious act, or high exploit,
‘Stands registered. With reverential awe
‘O tread the holy ground; for in these walls
‘Each step ye take will lead ye to your God.’
Her exhalations from the lap of earth,
When Ananiah, son of ninety years,
Than whom, since Misael dead, no ancient claim'd
More unreserv'd obedience, thus accosts
The tribes. ‘Thrice welcome, ye redeem'd of God,
‘To this your heritage: I bid you hail
‘To Salem's holy walls. Nor do I blame
‘Your eager joy; the occasion well deserves
‘This transport, and the rivers of the soul
‘Will oft o'erflow their channel. But, my friends,
‘Tis not enough to clasp these sacred stones,
‘And chaunt triumphal hymns; tis not enough
105
‘Sacrifical of goat, or paschal lamb;
‘To celebrate your harvests; to renew
‘The long-neglected sabbath: these, all these,
‘Demand your reverence: but the eternal laws
‘Immutable of justice, and of truth,
‘Of mercy, and of spotless purity,
‘Grave on your inmost souls. And O beware
‘Lest base idolatry seduce your faith
‘From Israel's living strength; twas hence your sires
‘Were driven from Canaan's fields; twas hence ye bore
‘A tedious exile in a stranger's land.
‘That sin repeated will call down from heaven
‘Repeated punishment. Your jealous God,
(‘His name is jealous,) will again avenge
‘His injur'd honour, nor will deign to share
106
‘Proud Babylon be fallen; tho Persia's king
‘Hath torn the diadem from Belshazzar's brow,
‘And not a remnant of Nebassar's race,
‘Your scourge, be left; yet think not God's right hand
‘Is slacken'd, or disarm'd. His vengeance sleeps,
‘But sin will rouse it; and who knows the extreme
‘Of wrath omnipotent? Around his throne,
‘Waiting his sovran nod, his ministers
‘Ay stand, for speed succinct; the impetuous storm,
‘The roaring thunder, and the lightening wing'd,
‘His fierce companion; famine, pestilence,
‘And fire, and sword. All these in evil hour
‘Our sires have felt; and if we e'er forget
‘His everlasting laws, another host
‘Will rase our walls, another Babylon
107
‘Even by the gentile nations, we may rove
‘From coast to coast, a vagrant crew, and bear
‘Thro many an age the marks indelible
‘Of God's predicted wrath. As when on some
‘High floor, the indented timber, o'er the sheaves
‘Drawn by slow oxen, parts the solid grain
‘From the light chaff, which on the mountain's top
‘The whistling wind bears with his wings away;
‘As when the joyful hind with naked foot
‘Treads on his purple vintage; so your God
‘Oer heaps of slain, o'er mountains of the dead,
‘Will ride triumphant; on the slaughter'd pile
‘His steeds will trample, and his flaming wheels
‘Drip with the blood of millions. But, my friends,
‘So nature wills, it is the time, when worn
108
‘From food, from sleep. Prepare your evening meal,
‘And spread your tents. These half-demolished walls
‘Untenanted, where springs the bladed grass,
‘Sad mark of desolation, ill can lodge
‘A band so numerous. When the morning dawns
‘Myself will lead you to each once-lov'd scene,
‘And shew what yet remains, if ought remains,
‘Of Judah's ancient glory. Not a spot
‘But what for pious act, or high exploit,
‘Stands registered. With reverential awe
‘O tread the holy ground; for in these walls
‘Each step ye take will lead ye to your God.’
Thus spake the reverend ancient. They with sighs
Of deep contrition, and with vows sincere
Of faith, of trust, obedience unreserv'd,
Stand fix'd in silence. Then with haste they dress
Their evening meal, and satiate their desire
Of wine, of food. Beneath their tents they lie
Steep'd in the dews of sleep, while airy dreams,
Celestial visions cheer the gloom of night.
Of deep contrition, and with vows sincere
Of faith, of trust, obedience unreserv'd,
109
Their evening meal, and satiate their desire
Of wine, of food. Beneath their tents they lie
Steep'd in the dews of sleep, while airy dreams,
Celestial visions cheer the gloom of night.
Now dawns the morn, and on mount Olivet
The hoar-frost melts before the rising sun,
Which summons to their daily toil the world
Of beasts, of men; and all that wings the air,
And all that swims the level of the lake,
Or creeps the ground, bid universal hail
To day's bright regent. But the tribes were rous'd,
Impatient even of rest, ere yet the stars
Withdrew their feeble light. Thro every street
They bend their way: some Ananiah leads,
Some Phanuel, or what elders else were driven
In early youth from Sion. Not a spot
Remains unvisited; each stone, each beam,
Seems sacred. As in legendary tale,
Led by magician's hand some hero treads
Enchanted ground, and hears, or thinks he hears,
Aerial voices, or with secret dread
Sees unembodied shades, by fancy form'd,
Flit thro the gloom; so rescued Judah walk'd
Amid the majesty of Salem's dust
With reverential awe. Howbeit they soon
Remove the mouldering ruins; soon they clear
The obstructed paths, and every mansion raise,
By force, or time, impair'd. Then Jeshua rose
With all his priests; nor thou, Zorobabel,
Soul of the tribes, wast absent. To the God
Of Jacob, oft as morn and eve returns,
A new-built altar smoaks. Nor do they not
Observe the feast, memorial of that age
When Israel dwelt in tents; the Sabbath too,
New moons, and every ritual ordinance,
First fruits, and paschal lamb, and rams, and goats,
Offerings of sin, and peace. Nor yet was laid
The temple's new foundation. Corn, and wine,
Sweet balm, and oil, they mete with liberal hand
To Tyrian, and Sidonian. To the sea
Of Joppa down they heave their stately trees
From Syrian Lebanon. And now they square
Huge blocks of marble, and with ancient rites
Anoint the corner stone. Around the priests,
The Levites, and the sons of Asaph stand
With trumpets, and with cymbals. Jeshua first,
Adorn'd in robes pontifical conducts
The sacred ceremony. An ephod rich
Purple, and blue, comes mantling o'er his arms,
Clasp'd with smooth studs; round whose mæandring hem
A girdle twines its folds: to this by chains
Of gold is link'd a breast-plate: costly gems,
Jasper, and diamond, sapphire, amethyst,
Unite their hues; twelve stones, memorial apt
Of Judah's ancient tribes. A mitre decks
His head, and on the top a golden crown
Graven, like a signet, by no vulgar hand,
Proclaims him priest of God. Symphonious hymns
Are mix'd with instrumental melody,
And Judah's joyful shouts. But down thy cheeks,
O Ananiah, from thine aged eye,
O Phanuel, drops a tear; for ye have seen
The house of Solomon in all its pride,
And ill can brook this change. Nor ye alone,
But every ancient wept. Loud shrieks of grief,
Mix'd with the voice of joy, are heard beyond
The hills of Salem. Even from Gibeon's walls
The astonish'd peasant turns a listening ear,
And Jordan's shepherds catch the distant sound.
The hoar-frost melts before the rising sun,
Which summons to their daily toil the world
Of beasts, of men; and all that wings the air,
And all that swims the level of the lake,
Or creeps the ground, bid universal hail
To day's bright regent. But the tribes were rous'd,
Impatient even of rest, ere yet the stars
Withdrew their feeble light. Thro every street
They bend their way: some Ananiah leads,
Some Phanuel, or what elders else were driven
110
Remains unvisited; each stone, each beam,
Seems sacred. As in legendary tale,
Led by magician's hand some hero treads
Enchanted ground, and hears, or thinks he hears,
Aerial voices, or with secret dread
Sees unembodied shades, by fancy form'd,
Flit thro the gloom; so rescued Judah walk'd
Amid the majesty of Salem's dust
With reverential awe. Howbeit they soon
Remove the mouldering ruins; soon they clear
The obstructed paths, and every mansion raise,
By force, or time, impair'd. Then Jeshua rose
With all his priests; nor thou, Zorobabel,
Soul of the tribes, wast absent. To the God
111
A new-built altar smoaks. Nor do they not
Observe the feast, memorial of that age
When Israel dwelt in tents; the Sabbath too,
New moons, and every ritual ordinance,
First fruits, and paschal lamb, and rams, and goats,
Offerings of sin, and peace. Nor yet was laid
The temple's new foundation. Corn, and wine,
Sweet balm, and oil, they mete with liberal hand
To Tyrian, and Sidonian. To the sea
Of Joppa down they heave their stately trees
From Syrian Lebanon. And now they square
Huge blocks of marble, and with ancient rites
Anoint the corner stone. Around the priests,
The Levites, and the sons of Asaph stand
With trumpets, and with cymbals. Jeshua first,
112
The sacred ceremony. An ephod rich
Purple, and blue, comes mantling o'er his arms,
Clasp'd with smooth studs; round whose mæandring hem
A girdle twines its folds: to this by chains
Of gold is link'd a breast-plate: costly gems,
Jasper, and diamond, sapphire, amethyst,
Unite their hues; twelve stones, memorial apt
Of Judah's ancient tribes. A mitre decks
His head, and on the top a golden crown
Graven, like a signet, by no vulgar hand,
Proclaims him priest of God. Symphonious hymns
Are mix'd with instrumental melody,
And Judah's joyful shouts. But down thy cheeks,
O Ananiah, from thine aged eye,
113
The house of Solomon in all its pride,
And ill can brook this change. Nor ye alone,
But every ancient wept. Loud shrieks of grief,
Mix'd with the voice of joy, are heard beyond
The hills of Salem. Even from Gibeon's walls
The astonish'd peasant turns a listening ear,
And Jordan's shepherds catch the distant sound.
Meanwhile with mantle rent, and streaming hair,
Enlarg'd in size, in features, with his eye
Uprear'd, as tho it pierc'd that azure veil,
Which parts the regions of this nether world
From heaven's angelic choir, Haggai advanc'd:
His voice, his colour chang'd. Such 'mid the cliffs
Of Delphi, or thy shrine, Ammonian Jove,
Feign'd inspiration; or in that dark cave,
Where dwelt the Sibyl of Campania's shore,
Groan'd with the pressure of the incumbent God.
Enlarg'd in size, in features, with his eye
Uprear'd, as tho it pierc'd that azure veil,
Which parts the regions of this nether world
From heaven's angelic choir, Haggai advanc'd:
His voice, his colour chang'd. Such 'mid the cliffs
Of Delphi, or thy shrine, Ammonian Jove,
Feign'd inspiration; or in that dark cave,
114
Groan'd with the pressure of the incumbent God.
‘Weep not, ye fathers of Jerusalem’
The prophet cries. ‘What tho that ark be lost,
‘ Where lay the law, where on the mercy-seat
‘Shone uncreated light; what tho this house
‘In proud magnificence shall never vye
‘With that, which by barbarian hands destroy'd
‘Ye mourn with bitter tears; the day shall come
‘When this, whose deep foundation now ye lay
‘With better auspicies, this shrine shall rise
‘ More glorious than the former. On this spot
‘Shall stand the hope of Israel. Here shall come
‘The messenger of God, the promis'd seed
‘Of Abraham, and of David. From his mouth
‘Shall flow celestial eloquence. Disease,
‘And Death, last-vanquish'd warrior, at his word
‘Shall flee; while even to earth's remotest bounds
‘His undivided empire shall extend,
‘Salvation, peace, and everlasting love.’
The prophet cries. ‘What tho that ark be lost,
‘ Where lay the law, where on the mercy-seat
‘Shone uncreated light; what tho this house
‘In proud magnificence shall never vye
‘With that, which by barbarian hands destroy'd
‘Ye mourn with bitter tears; the day shall come
‘When this, whose deep foundation now ye lay
‘With better auspicies, this shrine shall rise
‘ More glorious than the former. On this spot
‘Shall stand the hope of Israel. Here shall come
‘The messenger of God, the promis'd seed
‘Of Abraham, and of David. From his mouth
115
‘And Death, last-vanquish'd warrior, at his word
‘Shall flee; while even to earth's remotest bounds
‘His undivided empire shall extend,
‘Salvation, peace, and everlasting love.’
Thus while the prophet speaks, each bosom heaves
With rapture heaven-inspir'd; each ancient turns
His tears to joy. The labourers speed their toil
With tenfold zeal; and while the Levites strike
Their harps, their cymbals, to triumphal airs,
Sonorous trumpets join their martial sound.
With rapture heaven-inspir'd; each ancient turns
His tears to joy. The labourers speed their toil
With tenfold zeal; and while the Levites strike
Their harps, their cymbals, to triumphal airs,
Sonorous trumpets join their martial sound.
END OF THE SIXTH BOOK.
| Judah restored | |