Judah restored a poem. In six books. By Dr. Roberts ... In two volumes |
 | I, II. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. | BOOK III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
 | Judah restored |  |
75
BOOK III.
76
ARGUMENT OF THE THIRD BOOK.
Confusion in the city—check'd by Cyrus—Burial of the Babylonians—Council of the Jews—Characters, and names of the counsellors—Daniel opens the business of their meeting —Jeshua speaks—Othniel—Zorobabel—Misael—Daniel ends the debate, and they determine to apply to Cyrus, for leave to return to Jerusalem—Interview between Othniel, and his Babylonian mistress—He endeavours to sow sedition among the Jews—Cyrus receives the homage of the Babylonians —Daniel requests that the Jews may be permitted to rebuild the temple of Jerusalem—Cyrus desires to hear their history.
77
All night with hideous uproar, and dismay,
Screams, shrieks, and yells of death, (far other notes
Than those, which usher'd in the evening star,)
The ecchoing walls resound. For now the hour
In vision to prophetic eye reveal'd,
The fatal hour of Babylon is come,
And every barbed shaft, and every dart,
Flies heaven-directed. Thee, so wills thy God,
Ah! fall'n Jerusalem, thee, and thy tribes,
The valiant warriors of the north shall sate
With glorious vengeance: prostrate in the dust
Lie half thy foes; the rest shall bow their necks
Beneath a foreign yoke. Now morn appears,
Scattering her hoar frost o'er Chaldæa's plain,
And by degrees unfolds a horrid scene,
The carnage of the night. The Median, struck
With pity and remorse, down drops his sword;
And even Hyrcania's savage clans, long train'd
To deeds of blood, recoil. Beneath a pile
Of slain, some mangled chief, with eye half clos'd,
And long-protracted groan, still lingering, begs
A short, tho painful respite. Cyrus now
Bids raise the imperial ensign: at that sight
Chomatrians, Bactrians, and the valiant troops
Of Parthia, with what other powers encamp'd
By Babylon, come flocking, and surround
Their gallant chief. He with one silent look
Of admiration all their toil o'erpays:
Nor wish the valiant for a nobler meed.
Screams, shrieks, and yells of death, (far other notes
Than those, which usher'd in the evening star,)
The ecchoing walls resound. For now the hour
In vision to prophetic eye reveal'd,
The fatal hour of Babylon is come,
And every barbed shaft, and every dart,
Flies heaven-directed. Thee, so wills thy God,
Ah! fall'n Jerusalem, thee, and thy tribes,
The valiant warriors of the north shall sate
With glorious vengeance: prostrate in the dust
78
Beneath a foreign yoke. Now morn appears,
Scattering her hoar frost o'er Chaldæa's plain,
And by degrees unfolds a horrid scene,
The carnage of the night. The Median, struck
With pity and remorse, down drops his sword;
And even Hyrcania's savage clans, long train'd
To deeds of blood, recoil. Beneath a pile
Of slain, some mangled chief, with eye half clos'd,
And long-protracted groan, still lingering, begs
A short, tho painful respite. Cyrus now
Bids raise the imperial ensign: at that sight
Chomatrians, Bactrians, and the valiant troops
Of Parthia, with what other powers encamp'd
By Babylon, come flocking, and surround
Their gallant chief. He with one silent look
79
Nor wish the valiant for a nobler meed.
‘Well have ye fought, my friends,’ the hero cries,
‘But now the bloody rites of war are clos'd,
‘Remember ye are men. Unburied lie
‘The slain of Babylon. Hear ye those cries?
‘They are the shrieks of widows, whom this night
‘Has rob'd of all they love. Their sons, their lords,
‘Disfigur'd, and with many a ghastly wound
‘Transfix'd, from day's broad eye they fain would hide,
‘And rescue from opprobious insult rude.
‘Haste to their aid; by gentle acts relieve
‘Those miseries, which ye caus'd: against the dead
‘Ye war not; them to the earth consign, and drop
‘The tear of human pity o'er their graves:’
He spake, nor did his Persians not obey.
‘But now the bloody rites of war are clos'd,
‘Remember ye are men. Unburied lie
‘The slain of Babylon. Hear ye those cries?
‘They are the shrieks of widows, whom this night
‘Has rob'd of all they love. Their sons, their lords,
‘Disfigur'd, and with many a ghastly wound
‘Transfix'd, from day's broad eye they fain would hide,
‘And rescue from opprobious insult rude.
‘Haste to their aid; by gentle acts relieve
‘Those miseries, which ye caus'd: against the dead
‘Ye war not; them to the earth consign, and drop
‘The tear of human pity o'er their graves:’
He spake, nor did his Persians not obey.
Three days, three nights, the frequent corse was seen,
With limbs all mangled, and with entrails torn,
Stretch'd on an iron bier; these in the earth
With decent awe they laid, and at their side
Plac'd wine, and funeral cates; left the cold shade,
Still hovering round her native clay, should pine
For those gross elements she lov'd before.
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Stretch'd on an iron bier; these in the earth
With decent awe they laid, and at their side
Plac'd wine, and funeral cates; left the cold shade,
Still hovering round her native clay, should pine
For those gross elements she lov'd before.
Meantime the Jews, whom wisdom, rank, or age,
Exalts above their peers, in full debate
Assemble. Daniel first, the voice of heaven,
Directs their counsels. By him, Misael sits,
And Ananiah; Jeshua next, the son
Of Jozadeck; to him in right descent
From Aaron, and from Phineës, devolv'd
The hereditary priesthood; but the law
Of regal, or of sacerdotal power
No trace retain'd, by long captivity
Suspended. By him stands Zorobabel,
Who deems each hour an age, till Sion rears
Her lofty summit to his eye, and shews
Her stones, once worn by many a pious knee
Of Levite, and of people. Othniel
With sidelong glance reproves his violent zeal;
Othniel, descended from that race, who wont
In happier days to raise the festal hymn
Of triumph, and record in sacred song
The victories of their fathers. He enslav'd
By amorous ditties had resign'd his heart,
Won by a fair idolatress, and wish'd,
Forgetful of his faith, to rest his head
For ever on the base Assyrian's lap
Degenerate. Bilshan too, and Mispar comes,
And Nehemiah. In mute silence all
Stand fix'd awhile, when Daniel thus begins.
Exalts above their peers, in full debate
Assemble. Daniel first, the voice of heaven,
Directs their counsels. By him, Misael sits,
And Ananiah; Jeshua next, the son
Of Jozadeck; to him in right descent
From Aaron, and from Phineës, devolv'd
The hereditary priesthood; but the law
Of regal, or of sacerdotal power
No trace retain'd, by long captivity
Suspended. By him stands Zorobabel,
81
Her lofty summit to his eye, and shews
Her stones, once worn by many a pious knee
Of Levite, and of people. Othniel
With sidelong glance reproves his violent zeal;
Othniel, descended from that race, who wont
In happier days to raise the festal hymn
Of triumph, and record in sacred song
The victories of their fathers. He enslav'd
By amorous ditties had resign'd his heart,
Won by a fair idolatress, and wish'd,
Forgetful of his faith, to rest his head
For ever on the base Assyrian's lap
Degenerate. Bilshan too, and Mispar comes,
And Nehemiah. In mute silence all
Stand fix'd awhile, when Daniel thus begins.
82
‘Look round; behold the vengeance of your God:
‘The tyrant is no more: dried are the streams
‘On which the queen of waters sat secure;
‘And Babylon, detested, dreaded name,
‘Proud Babylon is fall'n. The day is come,
‘When rescued Judah in the promis'd land
‘Shall rest his wearied foot. And yet who knows
‘But, reconcil'd by habit, ye may choose
‘The yoke of bondage; or, too indolent
‘To tempt the perils of a tedious way,
‘Forget Jerusalem? Say, shall we bend
‘Before the victor's throne, and from his voice
‘Implore the imperial edict of return,
‘Or thro successive ages linger on
‘Apostate, till no trace, no mark be left
‘Of God's peculiar people? Speak, my friends:
‘Tis freedom's privilege that each should speak
‘What each thinks just, and right.’ He paus'd; and next
Rose Jeshua, green in years, in counsel sage;
‘Show me,’ said he, ‘thro all the faithful tribes
‘A soul so dastard, and as thus I tear
‘This scroll in twain, even so from Abraham's stock
‘My hand shall sever him. But it may not be;
‘Few days have pass'd, since in that ruin'd fane
‘Of Belus, we defied Belshazzar's rage,
‘And scorn'd his giant god: and shall we now
‘Stand doubting, whether we will yet be slaves,
‘When freedom calls us? O Jerusalem,
‘Pride of our fathers, object thrice ador'd
‘Of Judah's tenderest love, ne'er did I see
‘Thy walls, thy sacred hill, thy towering shrine:
‘But often did my father to mine eye,
‘To fancy's eye, display the glorious scene
‘Magnificent: oft did the good old man
‘Draw back the holy veil, which he alone
‘Might pass, and shew'd me the mysterious rites,
‘The imperial oil, the garments rich with gems,
‘The cups sacrifical, and altars stain'd
‘With many a victim. “These, said he, my child,
“If thou shalt live till Judah be restor'd,
“It will be thine with reverence to preserve
“From hands unhallow'd: twill be thine, if e'er
“Ungrateful Benjamin forget his God,
“With fervent prayer, and evening sacrifice
“To stop the pointed thunderbolt. But first,
“O first erect a temple on that hill
“Which great Jehovah loves. Twas there he dwelt,
“Twas there he spake in
visions to his saints,
“There heard the vow propitious, and receiv'd
“The fragrant incense.” Thus my father spake;
‘Deep in my mind are all his counsels laid;
‘And I shall count each moment for an age,
‘While Babylon detains me. What advice
‘Cold hearts, and timid caution may propose
‘I reck not: were the danger twice tenfold,
‘Tis impious even to doubt, when heaven invites.’
‘The tyrant is no more: dried are the streams
‘On which the queen of waters sat secure;
‘And Babylon, detested, dreaded name,
‘Proud Babylon is fall'n. The day is come,
‘When rescued Judah in the promis'd land
‘Shall rest his wearied foot. And yet who knows
‘But, reconcil'd by habit, ye may choose
‘The yoke of bondage; or, too indolent
‘To tempt the perils of a tedious way,
‘Forget Jerusalem? Say, shall we bend
‘Before the victor's throne, and from his voice
‘Implore the imperial edict of return,
‘Or thro successive ages linger on
‘Apostate, till no trace, no mark be left
‘Of God's peculiar people? Speak, my friends:
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‘What each thinks just, and right.’ He paus'd; and next
Rose Jeshua, green in years, in counsel sage;
‘Show me,’ said he, ‘thro all the faithful tribes
‘A soul so dastard, and as thus I tear
‘This scroll in twain, even so from Abraham's stock
‘My hand shall sever him. But it may not be;
‘Few days have pass'd, since in that ruin'd fane
‘Of Belus, we defied Belshazzar's rage,
‘And scorn'd his giant god: and shall we now
‘Stand doubting, whether we will yet be slaves,
‘When freedom calls us? O Jerusalem,
‘Pride of our fathers, object thrice ador'd
‘Of Judah's tenderest love, ne'er did I see
‘Thy walls, thy sacred hill, thy towering shrine:
84
‘To fancy's eye, display the glorious scene
‘Magnificent: oft did the good old man
‘Draw back the holy veil, which he alone
‘Might pass, and shew'd me the mysterious rites,
‘The imperial oil, the garments rich with gems,
‘The cups sacrifical, and altars stain'd
‘With many a victim. “These, said he, my child,
“If thou shalt live till Judah be restor'd,
“It will be thine with reverence to preserve
“From hands unhallow'd: twill be thine, if e'er
“Ungrateful Benjamin forget his God,
“With fervent prayer, and evening sacrifice
“To stop the pointed thunderbolt. But first,
“O first erect a temple on that hill
“Which great Jehovah loves. Twas there he dwelt,
85
“There heard the vow propitious, and receiv'd
“The fragrant incense.” Thus my father spake;
‘Deep in my mind are all his counsels laid;
‘And I shall count each moment for an age,
‘While Babylon detains me. What advice
‘Cold hearts, and timid caution may propose
‘I reck not: were the danger twice tenfold,
‘Tis impious even to doubt, when heaven invites.’
He ended, when uprose the form uncouth
Of Othniel. With a mark indelible,
Like the first murtherer's, God had stamp'd his face,
That all might know him. Yet with flattering words
Oft did he lure the tender virgin's heart
To sportive dalliance: nor unvers'd to hide
Seditious stratagems with specious boast
Of public love, he drew the gazing croud
To hail him as their universal friend,
The champion of their rights. For Sion's hill,
Or Sion's God he car'd not. By his crew
Of midnight revellers encompass'd round,
Oft would he mock Jehovah's dreaded name,
And with opprobrious Alleluiah's mix
His songs impure. He rose, and thus began.
Of Othniel. With a mark indelible,
Like the first murtherer's, God had stamp'd his face,
That all might know him. Yet with flattering words
Oft did he lure the tender virgin's heart
To sportive dalliance: nor unvers'd to hide
86
Of public love, he drew the gazing croud
To hail him as their universal friend,
The champion of their rights. For Sion's hill,
Or Sion's God he car'd not. By his crew
Of midnight revellers encompass'd round,
Oft would he mock Jehovah's dreaded name,
And with opprobrious Alleluiah's mix
His songs impure. He rose, and thus began.
‘Well hast thou spoken, Jeshua; well thy words
‘Become thy sacred station; nor, I trust,
‘Are others less impatient to be free.
‘For me, tho linen girdle ne'er shall bind
‘My waist, nor golden mitre grace mine head,
‘For me be witness all the host of heaven
‘How oft at midnight's latest hour mine eyes
‘Have burst the bonds of sleep, how oft my voice
‘Has cried to heaven, that Judah may return.
‘Nor should Chaldæa's wealth, nor all the gems
‘Which the sun ripens in his eastern beds,
‘Nor should the weight of gold, which Solomon
‘Coffer'd in Lebanon's umbrageous house,
‘Spoils of rich merchants and Arabian kings,
‘Induce me for a moment to protract
‘These hours of bondage. But let zeal be check'd
‘By wisdom; never yet did safety spring
‘From rash impetuous counsels. Shall we then
‘Surround the victor, on his new-earn'd throne
‘Scarce seated, and with inauspicious suit
‘Disturb his opening reign? rather by slow
‘Degrees, and soft insinuation, win
‘His favour, if so he may send us home
‘Safe convoy'd by a bold and numerous host
‘Of ssingsmen, and of archers. Long the way,
‘And perilous, which from Chaldæa leads
‘To Salem's ruin'd walls. Remember what
‘Our fathers suffer'd, when in haste they fled
‘From Rameses, and forty tedious years
‘Travers'd the pathless desart. Did a man,
‘Say did one man in all that number'd host,
‘Save Joshua , and Caleb, press the grapes,
‘Or drink the milk of Canaan? Famine , thirst ,
‘And fiery serpents hissing in their tents,
‘And pestilence destroy'd their minish'd tribes.
‘Besides what enemies by force, or wile,
‘In center, or in rear, attack'd their troops
‘Fatigued with toil, and vigils; Basan's king,
‘And Sihon , whom from Arnon's watry banks
‘To Hermon, which Sidonians Syrion call,
‘The Ammorite obey'd; and that dread name
‘Huge Amalek; and what other powers their march
‘Infested, from the day when first they pitch'd
‘In Succoth, to that hour when from the hills
‘Of Abarim , they saw the extended plain
‘Of Moab, and the walls of Jericho,
‘By Jordan, pleasant stream. Ills great as theirs,
‘Or greater may assail us. Sweet the name
‘Of Sion, and to every Jewish ear
‘There is a magic in the sound, which charms
‘More than a thousand Babylonian spells.
‘But shall we ever reach this happy land,
‘Unaided, and encumber'd on our march
‘With all our stores? Our wives, our helpless babes,
‘Can they protect us from the lawless rage
‘Of all the assassins, who perchance infest
‘The way, and like a torrent from the hills
‘In savage clans come pouring o'er the plain?
‘Can they secure us from the parching drought
‘Of unslak'd thirst, or 'mid the famine stop
‘Our cries for bread? Then shall we curse in vain
‘Our hasty counsels, and with anxious eye,
‘Such as our fathers cast towards Palæstine,
‘Look back for lost Euphrates. Let us go,
‘When freedom calls, nor wisdom disapproves.’
‘Become thy sacred station; nor, I trust,
‘Are others less impatient to be free.
‘For me, tho linen girdle ne'er shall bind
‘My waist, nor golden mitre grace mine head,
‘For me be witness all the host of heaven
‘How oft at midnight's latest hour mine eyes
87
‘Has cried to heaven, that Judah may return.
‘Nor should Chaldæa's wealth, nor all the gems
‘Which the sun ripens in his eastern beds,
‘Nor should the weight of gold, which Solomon
‘Coffer'd in Lebanon's umbrageous house,
‘Spoils of rich merchants and Arabian kings,
‘Induce me for a moment to protract
‘These hours of bondage. But let zeal be check'd
‘By wisdom; never yet did safety spring
‘From rash impetuous counsels. Shall we then
‘Surround the victor, on his new-earn'd throne
‘Scarce seated, and with inauspicious suit
‘Disturb his opening reign? rather by slow
‘Degrees, and soft insinuation, win
88
‘Safe convoy'd by a bold and numerous host
‘Of ssingsmen, and of archers. Long the way,
‘And perilous, which from Chaldæa leads
‘To Salem's ruin'd walls. Remember what
‘Our fathers suffer'd, when in haste they fled
‘From Rameses, and forty tedious years
‘Travers'd the pathless desart. Did a man,
‘Say did one man in all that number'd host,
‘Save Joshua , and Caleb, press the grapes,
‘Or drink the milk of Canaan? Famine , thirst ,
‘And fiery serpents hissing in their tents,
‘And pestilence destroy'd their minish'd tribes.
‘Besides what enemies by force, or wile,
89
‘Fatigued with toil, and vigils; Basan's king,
‘And Sihon , whom from Arnon's watry banks
‘To Hermon, which Sidonians Syrion call,
‘The Ammorite obey'd; and that dread name
‘Huge Amalek; and what other powers their march
‘Infested, from the day when first they pitch'd
‘In Succoth, to that hour when from the hills
‘Of Abarim , they saw the extended plain
‘Of Moab, and the walls of Jericho,
‘By Jordan, pleasant stream. Ills great as theirs,
‘Or greater may assail us. Sweet the name
‘Of Sion, and to every Jewish ear
‘There is a magic in the sound, which charms
90
‘But shall we ever reach this happy land,
‘Unaided, and encumber'd on our march
‘With all our stores? Our wives, our helpless babes,
‘Can they protect us from the lawless rage
‘Of all the assassins, who perchance infest
‘The way, and like a torrent from the hills
‘In savage clans come pouring o'er the plain?
‘Can they secure us from the parching drought
‘Of unslak'd thirst, or 'mid the famine stop
‘Our cries for bread? Then shall we curse in vain
‘Our hasty counsels, and with anxious eye,
‘Such as our fathers cast towards Palæstine,
‘Look back for lost Euphrates. Let us go,
‘When freedom calls, nor wisdom disapproves.’
91
He ended, and Zorobabel began.
Who speaks not what he thinks, even as the gates
‘Of hell my soul detests him. Foul designs
‘Varnish'd with specious words, are doubly foul.
‘Dar'st thou rehearse the miseries of our sires
‘Laden with Egypt's spoils, and yet forget
‘The hand that led them thro the wilderness,
‘Far from the house of bondage? “Yoke my cars,
“Prepare my chivalry,” the Memphian cried;
‘In vain; the waves, that like two mountains rear'd
‘Their humid walls, while Israel pass'd between,
‘Clos'd on his routed host. What tho' unknown
‘And intricate the path? hast thou not heard
‘Of that bright cloud which marshal'd them by day?
‘And when dark night hid all her choir of stars,
‘Rose not the fiery pillar? What tho thirst,
‘Tho famine press'd them sore; gush'd not a stream
‘Of freshest beverage from the riven rock?
‘And when the barren earth witheld her stores,
‘Fell not sweet bread from heaven? Did Amalek,
‘Did Og, did Sihon, triumph o'er the tribes
‘Of way-worn Israël? To all the males,
‘Save two, which Moses number'd by the foot
‘Of Sinai, sacred mount, I grant, the fields
‘Of promise were denied: But say, whence sprung
‘The fatal prohibition? thro their camp
‘Spread not the sound of murmur, and distrust?
‘Forsook they not their living strength, seduc'd
‘By gross idolatries? Hence, as a cloud
‘Eclipses the bright sun, what time his orb
‘Flames in the chambers of the southern sky,
‘His countenance grew dark; the sons of Dan
‘Were stricken, Simeon wept, and Ashur shook
‘Thro all his tents. But when to him they mourn'd,
‘Ne'er did they mourn in vain. Crimes, rank as theirs,
‘Have fix'd us here awhile, till exile purge
‘Our sins away. That hour is come; and now
‘Why stand we loitering thus in dull debate?
‘Hath not his prophet said? shall we distrust
‘His power? or kindle his fierce wrath again
‘By murmurs, by sedition? Shall we leave
‘The holy one of Israel, and fall down
‘To Belus, or to Mithras? Go, enquire
‘Of Cushan, or of Kedar; ask the isles,
‘Will ye forsake your Gods? Tell, mighty king,
‘God of our fathers, tell, why thou alone
‘Hast seen thy shrine forsaken, while a cloud
‘Of never-ceasing incense wafts perfume
‘To Moloch, and to Dagon? Never more,
‘Ah! never may thy chosen servants rouse
‘Thy slumbering vengeance! For thee, Othniel, go,
‘Go, false dissembler; spread thro all the tribes
‘Affliction, and dismay; bid them remain
‘In Babylon; record, as thou art wont,
‘The dangers of the way; but should they hear
‘Thy voice, should even this venerable ring
‘Of sages, and of elders, shrink with fear,
‘Unguarded, and alone, myself will go.’
Who speaks not what he thinks, even as the gates
‘Of hell my soul detests him. Foul designs
‘Varnish'd with specious words, are doubly foul.
‘Dar'st thou rehearse the miseries of our sires
‘Laden with Egypt's spoils, and yet forget
‘The hand that led them thro the wilderness,
‘Far from the house of bondage? “Yoke my cars,
“Prepare my chivalry,” the Memphian cried;
‘In vain; the waves, that like two mountains rear'd
‘Their humid walls, while Israel pass'd between,
‘Clos'd on his routed host. What tho' unknown
‘And intricate the path? hast thou not heard
‘Of that bright cloud which marshal'd them by day?
92
‘Rose not the fiery pillar? What tho thirst,
‘Tho famine press'd them sore; gush'd not a stream
‘Of freshest beverage from the riven rock?
‘And when the barren earth witheld her stores,
‘Fell not sweet bread from heaven? Did Amalek,
‘Did Og, did Sihon, triumph o'er the tribes
‘Of way-worn Israël? To all the males,
‘Save two, which Moses number'd by the foot
‘Of Sinai, sacred mount, I grant, the fields
‘Of promise were denied: But say, whence sprung
‘The fatal prohibition? thro their camp
‘Spread not the sound of murmur, and distrust?
‘Forsook they not their living strength, seduc'd
‘By gross idolatries? Hence, as a cloud
‘Eclipses the bright sun, what time his orb
93
‘His countenance grew dark; the sons of Dan
‘Were stricken, Simeon wept, and Ashur shook
‘Thro all his tents. But when to him they mourn'd,
‘Ne'er did they mourn in vain. Crimes, rank as theirs,
‘Have fix'd us here awhile, till exile purge
‘Our sins away. That hour is come; and now
‘Why stand we loitering thus in dull debate?
‘Hath not his prophet said? shall we distrust
‘His power? or kindle his fierce wrath again
‘By murmurs, by sedition? Shall we leave
‘The holy one of Israel, and fall down
‘To Belus, or to Mithras? Go, enquire
‘Of Cushan, or of Kedar; ask the isles,
‘Will ye forsake your Gods? Tell, mighty king,
94
‘Hast seen thy shrine forsaken, while a cloud
‘Of never-ceasing incense wafts perfume
‘To Moloch, and to Dagon? Never more,
‘Ah! never may thy chosen servants rouse
‘Thy slumbering vengeance! For thee, Othniel, go,
‘Go, false dissembler; spread thro all the tribes
‘Affliction, and dismay; bid them remain
‘In Babylon; record, as thou art wont,
‘The dangers of the way; but should they hear
‘Thy voice, should even this venerable ring
‘Of sages, and of elders, shrink with fear,
‘Unguarded, and alone, myself will go.’
‘No, not alone,’ said Misael; ‘take at least
‘An old man with thee: zeal will speed my steps,
‘Tho time hath drawn his furrows o'er my brow.
‘My wife, my children gone, behold I stand
‘Like an old oak, whose branches all are scath'd
‘By heaven's red lightening, but whose knotty trunk,
‘By tortuous roots bound to the solid earth,
‘Remains immoveable. Tho bow'd by age,
‘Tho lost to every other human joy,
‘Sion is dear as ever to my soul.
‘O Othniel, hadst thou heard the fatal crash,
‘When God's own house fell from its rocky base;
‘O hadst thou seen the tears, and mark'd the sighs
‘Of the first captives, driven from all they lov'd,
‘Thou wouldst not brook delay; nor even the warmth
‘Of young Zorobabel would equal thine.
‘For me, could I but once again behold
‘Thy brook, O Cedron; could I see the stones,
‘Tho now perchance with moss o'ergrown; or trace
‘The remnant of one cedar beam, that join'd
‘Its firm support to prop that holy pile,
‘Among the ruins would I rest mine head,
‘And sleep in peace. Who knows but yet again,
‘As in the days of Solomon, the tribes
‘May all unite, and rescued Judah throw
‘His fond fraternal arms round Israel's neck,
‘And welcome him to Salem? Then, oh then,
‘From Ascalon to Gilead, from the mount
‘Of northern Lebanon to the Asphaltic lake,
‘The land shall all be ours: our herds shall range
‘On Basan, and on Carmel; Ephraim's brow
‘Shall whiten with the fleece of new-wash'd sheep;
‘The daughter of Jerusalem shall drink
‘From Jacob's fountain, and Samaria's nymph
‘Recline on Rachel's tomb. Soft is the dew,
‘Which evening
sheds on Hermon; sweet the oil
‘Which drip'd down Aaron's sacerdotal vest,
‘Even to his skirts; but sweeter far, my friends,
‘To live in unity, and mutual love.
‘Twas thus your fathers cheer'd the gloomy hours
‘Of exile; all was peace. One heart was theirs;
‘One interest, to restore the captive tribes;
‘One wish, to see Jerusalem again.’
‘An old man with thee: zeal will speed my steps,
‘Tho time hath drawn his furrows o'er my brow.
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‘Like an old oak, whose branches all are scath'd
‘By heaven's red lightening, but whose knotty trunk,
‘By tortuous roots bound to the solid earth,
‘Remains immoveable. Tho bow'd by age,
‘Tho lost to every other human joy,
‘Sion is dear as ever to my soul.
‘O Othniel, hadst thou heard the fatal crash,
‘When God's own house fell from its rocky base;
‘O hadst thou seen the tears, and mark'd the sighs
‘Of the first captives, driven from all they lov'd,
‘Thou wouldst not brook delay; nor even the warmth
‘Of young Zorobabel would equal thine.
‘For me, could I but once again behold
‘Thy brook, O Cedron; could I see the stones,
‘Tho now perchance with moss o'ergrown; or trace
96
‘Its firm support to prop that holy pile,
‘Among the ruins would I rest mine head,
‘And sleep in peace. Who knows but yet again,
‘As in the days of Solomon, the tribes
‘May all unite, and rescued Judah throw
‘His fond fraternal arms round Israel's neck,
‘And welcome him to Salem? Then, oh then,
‘From Ascalon to Gilead, from the mount
‘Of northern Lebanon to the Asphaltic lake,
‘The land shall all be ours: our herds shall range
‘On Basan, and on Carmel; Ephraim's brow
‘Shall whiten with the fleece of new-wash'd sheep;
‘The daughter of Jerusalem shall drink
‘From Jacob's fountain, and Samaria's nymph
‘Recline on Rachel's tomb. Soft is the dew,
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‘Which drip'd down Aaron's sacerdotal vest,
‘Even to his skirts; but sweeter far, my friends,
‘To live in unity, and mutual love.
‘Twas thus your fathers cheer'd the gloomy hours
‘Of exile; all was peace. One heart was theirs;
‘One interest, to restore the captive tribes;
‘One wish, to see Jerusalem again.’
‘Just,’ said Zorobabel, ‘O reverend seer,
‘Just are thy words. But this man prostitutes
‘The name of public-love, and by fair speech
‘Conceals his base designs. O how I hate,
‘When low-born cunning sits in wisdom's seat,
‘To see the gazing multitude admire,
‘As wisdom's self were there! Coward, and slave,
‘Hence to thy Dalilah; hang on her breast,
‘Play with the silken ringlets of her hair,
‘And as she trolls her wanton madrigal,
‘Swear that no virgin of Jerusalem
‘Is half so lovely; swear thou ne'er wilt leave
‘Her Babylon, to seek, thou know'st not what,
‘The country of thy fathers. But beware;
‘For if, as thou wert wont in other days,
‘Thou sow'st sedition 'mid the wavering tribes,
‘Judah has yet a spirit to resent,
‘An arm to punish.’
‘Just are thy words. But this man prostitutes
‘The name of public-love, and by fair speech
‘Conceals his base designs. O how I hate,
‘When low-born cunning sits in wisdom's seat,
‘To see the gazing multitude admire,
‘As wisdom's self were there! Coward, and slave,
98
‘Play with the silken ringlets of her hair,
‘And as she trolls her wanton madrigal,
‘Swear that no virgin of Jerusalem
‘Is half so lovely; swear thou ne'er wilt leave
‘Her Babylon, to seek, thou know'st not what,
‘The country of thy fathers. But beware;
‘For if, as thou wert wont in other days,
‘Thou sow'st sedition 'mid the wavering tribes,
‘Judah has yet a spirit to resent,
‘An arm to punish.’
‘Go, vain railer, go,’
Said Othniel, in a tone where fear was mix'd
With hatred, and disdain, ‘go round by night
‘And rouse the drooping tribes; return'd perchance
‘They'll hail thee as their king, and at thy throne
‘Renew their ancient fealty. Too much,
‘Too much already hath Jerusalem
‘Bewail'd her royal line. It was the sin
‘Of that accursed race which cried to heaven,
‘And drew down vengeance on their people's head.
‘That race by long captivity is sunk
‘Even to plebeian baseness. Shall we then
‘At once forget the source of all our woes,
‘And place Judæa's sceptre in the hand
‘Of Jechoniah's heir? Let the tame fools,
‘Gull'd by these specious arts, embrace thy chain;
‘For me, rather than cringe, and bend my knee
‘Obsequious, to a vile usurper's throne,
‘In Babylon I'll live, and never waste
‘One single thought on Salem, or on thee.’
Said Othniel, in a tone where fear was mix'd
With hatred, and disdain, ‘go round by night
‘And rouse the drooping tribes; return'd perchance
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‘Renew their ancient fealty. Too much,
‘Too much already hath Jerusalem
‘Bewail'd her royal line. It was the sin
‘Of that accursed race which cried to heaven,
‘And drew down vengeance on their people's head.
‘That race by long captivity is sunk
‘Even to plebeian baseness. Shall we then
‘At once forget the source of all our woes,
‘And place Judæa's sceptre in the hand
‘Of Jechoniah's heir? Let the tame fools,
‘Gull'd by these specious arts, embrace thy chain;
‘For me, rather than cringe, and bend my knee
‘Obsequious, to a vile usurper's throne,
‘In Babylon I'll live, and never waste
‘One single thought on Salem, or on thee.’
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Thus while he spake, rage redden'd on the cheek
Of young Zorobabel. He started up,
Impatient to reply; but Daniel rose,
And fix'd attention held the council mute.
By reason, by persuasive truth he strove
To bend the stubborn heart of Othniel.
So to their fold, when evening streaks with red
The cloudless landscape, while the shepherd drives
His flock, if chance but one refuse to hear
The well-known call, he leaves the obedient sheep,
And o'er the plain with many a weary step
Persues the devious wanderer. But when truth,
Nor reason can prevail, ‘Shalt thou, vain boy,’
Exclaims the man of God, ‘shalt thou retard
‘Our blest deliverance? Shall the general weal
‘Yield to a private voice? Let Othniel stay;
‘For us, this instant let us all repair
‘To Cyrus; for while we sit loitering here,
‘Jerusalem lies prostrate in the dust.’
Of young Zorobabel. He started up,
Impatient to reply; but Daniel rose,
And fix'd attention held the council mute.
By reason, by persuasive truth he strove
To bend the stubborn heart of Othniel.
So to their fold, when evening streaks with red
The cloudless landscape, while the shepherd drives
His flock, if chance but one refuse to hear
The well-known call, he leaves the obedient sheep,
And o'er the plain with many a weary step
Persues the devious wanderer. But when truth,
Nor reason can prevail, ‘Shalt thou, vain boy,’
Exclaims the man of God, ‘shalt thou retard
‘Our blest deliverance? Shall the general weal
‘Yield to a private voice? Let Othniel stay;
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‘To Cyrus; for while we sit loitering here,
‘Jerusalem lies prostrate in the dust.’
The prophet ended, and at once uprose
The obsequious Sanhedrim. Toward that rich house,
Where late Belshazzar held his midnight rout,
Where now the Persian sits in regal state,
They bend their way. But Othniel turn'd his steps
Diverse. The fair Assyrian saw him come
With folded arms, and downcast eye: she saw,
And trembled; for she knew that Judah's chiefs
Were met; and worse than death she fear'd, lest fate
Should doom her to lament in solitude
The loss of whom she lov'd. ‘What means,’ she cried,
‘My Othniel? speak.’ He spake not. Silence seem'd
More horrible to her distracted soul,
Than words of bitterest wrath. She could not weep,
But look'd such anguish, that a sudden tear
Gush'd from her Othniel's eye. She, deeply vers'd
In female art, and all the wiles of love,
Watch'd the soft moment, on his yielding arm
Hung amorous, and with many a sigh began.
The obsequious Sanhedrim. Toward that rich house,
Where late Belshazzar held his midnight rout,
Where now the Persian sits in regal state,
They bend their way. But Othniel turn'd his steps
Diverse. The fair Assyrian saw him come
With folded arms, and downcast eye: she saw,
And trembled; for she knew that Judah's chiefs
Were met; and worse than death she fear'd, lest fate
Should doom her to lament in solitude
The loss of whom she lov'd. ‘What means,’ she cried,
‘My Othniel? speak.’ He spake not. Silence seem'd
More horrible to her distracted soul,
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But look'd such anguish, that a sudden tear
Gush'd from her Othniel's eye. She, deeply vers'd
In female art, and all the wiles of love,
Watch'd the soft moment, on his yielding arm
Hung amorous, and with many a sigh began.
‘Canst thou then leave me, Othniel? canst thou go,
‘Ne'er to return again? For thee my fame,
‘For thee my kindred, and for thee my gods
‘I left, and to the keen reproach of scorn
‘Yielded my virgin honour. Not a dame
‘Thro all Chaldæa, but with cruel jests
‘Will load my misery: “this is she,” will cry
‘Each envious rival, “this is she, who lov'd
“The stranger, who disgrac'd her father's house,
“Her country, and her gods.” O may I sink
‘In everlasting rest, or e'er I hear
‘The voice of slander murmuring o'er my name!
‘Think on the dangers of the way, which leads
‘Thro savage hordes, inhospitable soil,
‘From Babylon to Sion: think on these,
‘And if, asham'd to fear, thou still wilt go,
‘O take me with thee! on my faithful breast
‘Repose thy wearied head: the dews of night
‘From thy warm limbs I'll chase; and when the sun
‘With fire solstitial cleaves the gasping earth,
‘Fan thee with freshest gales: for thy repast
‘I'll cull the daintiest herbs; to slake thy thirst
‘I'll bring fresh water from the coolest spring.
‘Yet wherefore go? thou wilt not here remain
‘A single sojourner: such is the force
‘Of thy persuasive eloquence, the tribes
‘Will rather stay in Babylon with thee
‘Than march they knew not whither. Go; collect
‘Thy followers: rouse their fears; alarm their souls
‘With tales of sad disaster; paint such scenes
‘As fable never feign'd.—But O forgive,
‘Forgive the violence of a woman's love,
‘For never will I live beyond the day
‘Which tears my Othniel from me. Tis at least
‘The privilege of misery, to die:
‘And while or sword, or fire, has power to kill,
‘That privilege, O Othniel, shall be mine.’
‘Ne'er to return again? For thee my fame,
‘For thee my kindred, and for thee my gods
‘I left, and to the keen reproach of scorn
‘Yielded my virgin honour. Not a dame
‘Thro all Chaldæa, but with cruel jests
‘Will load my misery: “this is she,” will cry
‘Each envious rival, “this is she, who lov'd
“The stranger, who disgrac'd her father's house,
“Her country, and her gods.” O may I sink
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‘The voice of slander murmuring o'er my name!
‘Think on the dangers of the way, which leads
‘Thro savage hordes, inhospitable soil,
‘From Babylon to Sion: think on these,
‘And if, asham'd to fear, thou still wilt go,
‘O take me with thee! on my faithful breast
‘Repose thy wearied head: the dews of night
‘From thy warm limbs I'll chase; and when the sun
‘With fire solstitial cleaves the gasping earth,
‘Fan thee with freshest gales: for thy repast
‘I'll cull the daintiest herbs; to slake thy thirst
‘I'll bring fresh water from the coolest spring.
‘Yet wherefore go? thou wilt not here remain
‘A single sojourner: such is the force
‘Of thy persuasive eloquence, the tribes
104
‘Than march they knew not whither. Go; collect
‘Thy followers: rouse their fears; alarm their souls
‘With tales of sad disaster; paint such scenes
‘As fable never feign'd.—But O forgive,
‘Forgive the violence of a woman's love,
‘For never will I live beyond the day
‘Which tears my Othniel from me. Tis at least
‘The privilege of misery, to die:
‘And while or sword, or fire, has power to kill,
‘That privilege, O Othniel, shall be mine.’
She spake, and wept. He gently from her eye
Kiss'd the soft tear, and with impetuous speed
Departed. Forthwith to each Jewish slave
Whom fear, or love, or interest, urg'd to stay,
He hasten'd, and with specious argument
Beneath his banner listed half the tribes:
The women chief; they, like the reed, which veers
To every wind that blows, fickle of mind,
And impotent of purpose, yield assent
To every new deceiver. In the street
Before the gate with threatening eye they stand,
And look as tho' their deep resolves were all
Unchangeable; while Daniel, and his train
Salute their conqueror on his golden throne,
That throne, where conscious of superior worth
Cyrus exalted sits. Around him stand
His valiant spearmen tall, and strong, in war
His guard, his ornament in peace. With them
Are join'd those gallant souls, whom love of fame
Drew from their native fields, Carmanian chiefs,
And Arachosian, Ctesias, and the son
Of old Orontes, and that dreaded name
Tigranes. Near the throne on either side
Stands Gadatas, and Gobryas; while the lords
Of Babylon fall prostrate on the ground,
Their names, their rank, their virtues they record,
Their ancient feats in arms. To their new prince
They vow perpetual fealty, and swear
To add their annual tribute to his stores.
Kiss'd the soft tear, and with impetuous speed
Departed. Forthwith to each Jewish slave
Whom fear, or love, or interest, urg'd to stay,
He hasten'd, and with specious argument
105
The women chief; they, like the reed, which veers
To every wind that blows, fickle of mind,
And impotent of purpose, yield assent
To every new deceiver. In the street
Before the gate with threatening eye they stand,
And look as tho' their deep resolves were all
Unchangeable; while Daniel, and his train
Salute their conqueror on his golden throne,
That throne, where conscious of superior worth
Cyrus exalted sits. Around him stand
His valiant spearmen tall, and strong, in war
His guard, his ornament in peace. With them
Are join'd those gallant souls, whom love of fame
Drew from their native fields, Carmanian chiefs,
And Arachosian, Ctesias, and the son
106
Tigranes. Near the throne on either side
Stands Gadatas, and Gobryas; while the lords
Of Babylon fall prostrate on the ground,
Their names, their rank, their virtues they record,
Their ancient feats in arms. To their new prince
They vow perpetual fealty, and swear
To add their annual tribute to his stores.
Scarce was this homage ended, when appear'd,
Attended by his faithful counsellors,
The reverend form of Daniel. Cyrus saw,
And started; thrice his colour chang'd to pale,
And thrice to deepest red. As one, whom chance
Leads thro the church-way path, where many a stone
Marks out the separate mansions of the dead,
Or sees, or thinks he sees, some shrouded ghost,
Spirit of friend departed, thwart the night,
And trembles with a sacred awe, as tho
A messenger had hail'd him from that land,
Which lies beyond the grave: such heaven-struck awe
Felt Cyrus, and to Gobryas thus began.
Attended by his faithful counsellors,
The reverend form of Daniel. Cyrus saw,
And started; thrice his colour chang'd to pale,
And thrice to deepest red. As one, whom chance
Leads thro the church-way path, where many a stone
Marks out the separate mansions of the dead,
Or sees, or thinks he sees, some shrouded ghost,
107
And trembles with a sacred awe, as tho
A messenger had hail'd him from that land,
Which lies beyond the grave: such heaven-struck awe
Felt Cyrus, and to Gobryas thus began.
‘Gobryas, behold that venerable sage;
‘Whence, and what is he? Is he clad indeed
‘In flesh, and bones, as we; or is he but
‘Some airy form, that cheats the uncertain eye,
‘A shape, and not a substance? Tell me true;
‘For such a man, so mild, so hoary-hair'd,
‘Like him in dress, and features, when soft sleep
‘Had steep'd my senses in oblivion, stood
‘Beside my pillow. To a lofty hill
‘Where lay the ruins of an ancient shrine,
‘He pointed, and with voice prophetic, such
‘As wak'd me not, but pierc'd my slumbering ear,
‘Foretold strange things to come. Tell, if thou know'st,
‘His age, his rank, his office, and his name.’
‘Whence, and what is he? Is he clad indeed
‘In flesh, and bones, as we; or is he but
‘Some airy form, that cheats the uncertain eye,
‘A shape, and not a substance? Tell me true;
‘For such a man, so mild, so hoary-hair'd,
‘Like him in dress, and features, when soft sleep
‘Had steep'd my senses in oblivion, stood
‘Beside my pillow. To a lofty hill
‘Where lay the ruins of an ancient shrine,
‘He pointed, and with voice prophetic, such
108
‘Foretold strange things to come. Tell, if thou know'st,
‘His age, his rank, his office, and his name.’
He ended, and thus Gobryas. ‘Oft, great king,
‘Oft hast thou heard me speak of Judah's tribes,
‘That wondrous race, whom from the palmy vales
‘Of Palæstine to Babylonia's plain
‘Nebassar bore triumphant. Never yet,
‘Tho much invited, have they quaff'd the bowl ,
‘Or shared the banquet with Assyria's sons;
‘Save here and there some amorous youth, enslav'd
‘By fair Chaldæan. Him, his brethren stile
‘Degenerate, and accurs'd; for, tho a race
‘Of slaves, they scorn their conquerors. Nor to Bel,
‘Nor Nebo will they bend their stubborn knee;
‘In secret they adore some local God,
‘Mighty to save. That ancient, whom thou see'st,
‘Favour'd above the rest, hath oft reveal'd
‘The will of heaven. Twice , when Nebassar's soul,
‘Perplex'd with nightly visions, sought in vain
‘To all the sage magicians of his court,
‘He read the book of fate, and told him things,
‘Which time shall yet reveal. Hence in his gate
‘High-honour'd did he sit, provincial chief
‘Of spacious Babylon. Perchance he comes
‘To hail the monarch of the vanquish'd tribes.
‘Say, wilt thou hear him speak? Sweet is his voice,
‘And powerful are his words: no fear will mark
‘A dastard soul: he speaks as man to man;
‘And yet with decent reverence, such as fits
‘A subject to his sovran.’ Cyrus nods
Assent, and Daniel, bending low, begins.
‘Oft hast thou heard me speak of Judah's tribes,
‘That wondrous race, whom from the palmy vales
‘Of Palæstine to Babylonia's plain
‘Nebassar bore triumphant. Never yet,
‘Tho much invited, have they quaff'd the bowl ,
‘Or shared the banquet with Assyria's sons;
‘Save here and there some amorous youth, enslav'd
‘By fair Chaldæan. Him, his brethren stile
‘Degenerate, and accurs'd; for, tho a race
‘Of slaves, they scorn their conquerors. Nor to Bel,
‘Nor Nebo will they bend their stubborn knee;
109
‘Mighty to save. That ancient, whom thou see'st,
‘Favour'd above the rest, hath oft reveal'd
‘The will of heaven. Twice , when Nebassar's soul,
‘Perplex'd with nightly visions, sought in vain
‘To all the sage magicians of his court,
‘He read the book of fate, and told him things,
‘Which time shall yet reveal. Hence in his gate
‘High-honour'd did he sit, provincial chief
‘Of spacious Babylon. Perchance he comes
‘To hail the monarch of the vanquish'd tribes.
‘Say, wilt thou hear him speak? Sweet is his voice,
‘And powerful are his words: no fear will mark
‘A dastard soul: he speaks as man to man;
‘And yet with decent reverence, such as fits
110
Assent, and Daniel, bending low, begins.
‘My name is Daniel; in Chaldæa's land
‘Call'd Belteshazzar. Hither, as that chief
‘Reports, whom well I knew ere cruel pride
‘Had driven him for revenge to foreign tents,
‘In early youth I came. Tho grac'd with power,
‘Tho honour'd with Nebassar's noblest gifts,
‘Yet bondage still was bitter. Not a day
‘Has pass'd, but I have turn'd a longing eye
‘Towards lost Jerusalem. Tis hence I lead
‘My faithful friends to hail their mighty king,
‘And dare with humblest suit to interrupt
‘His recent victories. On thee, great, prince,
‘Depends their anxious hope. Back to that land,
‘Where once their fathers held imperial sway,
‘Fain would the tribes return. Speak but the word,
‘And every voice shall rend the vault of heaven,
‘Hymning thy praise. Posterity shall read
‘The imperial edict, and record thy name,
‘While sun, or moon endures. Nor deem our God,
‘As Gobryas thinks, a deity confin'd
‘By time, or circumscrib'd by local space:
‘The earth, the heaven, is his: in every clime,
‘Thro every age, his power, his truth remains,
‘Unalter'd, unimpair'd. Think'st thou that dream
‘Was casual, when thou saw'st a form like mine
‘Undraw thy curtains in the hour of sleep?
‘No; twas the God, whom Benjamin adores,
‘It was the God, who, tho thou know'st it not,
‘Guides all thy steps, that spread before thine eyes
‘The
vision, emblem of poor Judah's state
‘Imploring aid from thee. Behold this book ;
‘Two centuries have pass'd, since here thy name
‘Was written. Thee, while yet unborn, the seer
‘Observ'd, and with prophetic rapture stil'd
‘Cyrus, the Lord's anointed. Look again;
‘See where thy gallant acts predicted stand,
‘Thy name, thy pity to the captive tribes,
‘O Sion's blest deliverer! mark it well;
‘Stamp'd was this volume with the seal of God.’
‘Call'd Belteshazzar. Hither, as that chief
‘Reports, whom well I knew ere cruel pride
‘Had driven him for revenge to foreign tents,
‘In early youth I came. Tho grac'd with power,
‘Tho honour'd with Nebassar's noblest gifts,
‘Yet bondage still was bitter. Not a day
‘Has pass'd, but I have turn'd a longing eye
‘Towards lost Jerusalem. Tis hence I lead
‘My faithful friends to hail their mighty king,
‘And dare with humblest suit to interrupt
‘His recent victories. On thee, great, prince,
‘Depends their anxious hope. Back to that land,
111
‘Fain would the tribes return. Speak but the word,
‘And every voice shall rend the vault of heaven,
‘Hymning thy praise. Posterity shall read
‘The imperial edict, and record thy name,
‘While sun, or moon endures. Nor deem our God,
‘As Gobryas thinks, a deity confin'd
‘By time, or circumscrib'd by local space:
‘The earth, the heaven, is his: in every clime,
‘Thro every age, his power, his truth remains,
‘Unalter'd, unimpair'd. Think'st thou that dream
‘Was casual, when thou saw'st a form like mine
‘Undraw thy curtains in the hour of sleep?
‘No; twas the God, whom Benjamin adores,
‘It was the God, who, tho thou know'st it not,
‘Guides all thy steps, that spread before thine eyes
112
‘Imploring aid from thee. Behold this book ;
‘Two centuries have pass'd, since here thy name
‘Was written. Thee, while yet unborn, the seer
‘Observ'd, and with prophetic rapture stil'd
‘Cyrus, the Lord's anointed. Look again;
‘See where thy gallant acts predicted stand,
‘Thy name, thy pity to the captive tribes,
‘O Sion's blest deliverer! mark it well;
‘Stamp'd was this volume with the seal of God.’
Thus while he spake, all wrapt the conqueror sat
In wonder, and in reverence. Then, as one
Recovering from a trance, where every sense
Seem'd lost, ‘O tell me, Daniel, tell, ‘he cries,
‘The story of thy fathers; tell me who,
And whence ye are; your race, your name, your God,
O tell me all, even to the fatal time
When Babylon receiv'd you, where, they say,
The seventieth sun is rolling o'er your heads.
Mark every circumstance; still much of day
Remains; and I could steal from balmy sleep
The midnight hour, to hear a tale like thine.’
In wonder, and in reverence. Then, as one
Recovering from a trance, where every sense
Seem'd lost, ‘O tell me, Daniel, tell, ‘he cries,
‘The story of thy fathers; tell me who,
113
O tell me all, even to the fatal time
When Babylon receiv'd you, where, they say,
The seventieth sun is rolling o'er your heads.
Mark every circumstance; still much of day
Remains; and I could steal from balmy sleep
The midnight hour, to hear a tale like thine.’
END OF THE THIRD BOOK.
| Judah restored | |