Judah restored a poem. In six books. By Dr. Roberts ... In two volumes |
 | I, II. |
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| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. | BOOK IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
 | Judah restored |  |
1
BOOK IV.
3
ARGUMENT OF THE FOURTH BOOK.
Daniel, by command of Cyrus, relates the most material parts of the Jewish history, from the call of Abraham, to the taking of Jerusalem by Nebuchadnezzar, and the arrival of the captives at Babylon. After which, Cyrus gives them permission to return, and build a temple at Jerusalem; and orders all the ornaments of the former temple, which had been brought to Babylon by Nebuchadnezzar, to be restored to the Jews.
5
Silent, and still, as is the summer's noon,
When not a breeze bends the soft osier's twig,
The heroes sat; attention held them mute;
When Daniel thus began. ‘O mighty king,
‘Those questions make my sorrows stream anew.
‘Yet, if so great your love to hear the doom
‘Of once triumphant Judah, tho my soul
‘Still shrinks with horrour, still with grief recoils,
‘I will begin. But whence? should I at large
‘Unfold the wondrous story to thine ear,
‘The stars would fill their evening lamps with light,
‘Ere half my speech were clos'd: and thy demand
‘Were ill requited, should I disappoint
‘Thy keen impatience with imperfect tale.
‘Hear then the whole, but brief. I will record
‘Mysterious wonders, when perchance thy soul
‘Shall swell with heavenly rapture. I will tell
‘Of wars, seditions, dark idolatries,
‘Of captive Judah seeking, tho in vain,
‘His alienated God. And if, O king,
‘Thou hear'st his bitter sighs, and dost not weep,
‘Ne'er didst thou weep at human misery.
When not a breeze bends the soft osier's twig,
The heroes sat; attention held them mute;
When Daniel thus began. ‘O mighty king,
‘Those questions make my sorrows stream anew.
‘Yet, if so great your love to hear the doom
‘Of once triumphant Judah, tho my soul
‘Still shrinks with horrour, still with grief recoils,
‘I will begin. But whence? should I at large
‘Unfold the wondrous story to thine ear,
6
‘Ere half my speech were clos'd: and thy demand
‘Were ill requited, should I disappoint
‘Thy keen impatience with imperfect tale.
‘Hear then the whole, but brief. I will record
‘Mysterious wonders, when perchance thy soul
‘Shall swell with heavenly rapture. I will tell
‘Of wars, seditions, dark idolatries,
‘Of captive Judah seeking, tho in vain,
‘His alienated God. And if, O king,
‘Thou hear'st his bitter sighs, and dost not weep,
‘Ne'er didst thou weep at human misery.
‘Thou see'st us exil'd by the lot of war
‘In this detested land; and yet this land
‘Was once our home. From Ur , Chaldæan Ur
‘Abraham, the venerable patriarch, came.
‘Who has not heard of Abraham? Him, with all
‘His house, to Sichem, and to Moreh's plain,
‘Jehovah call'd; and from the Memphian stream
‘To where Euphrates bathes Chaldæa's banks,
‘To him, and to his seed for ever gave
‘That seat of mighty nations: there the sons
‘Of Canaan pitch'd their tents; the Kenite there
‘Pastur'd his flock; beneath their mantling vines
‘The Kadmonite and Hittite sat, and quaff'd
‘Nectareous beverage sweet. Ah! who shall drive
‘Those valiant warriors from their pleasant fields?
‘Shall Abraham? but unequal is his strength;
‘Nor yet is vengeance ripe. The Amorite,
‘A powerful name, whose race shall feel the edge
‘Of Israel's sword, confederates with his arms,
‘
Eschol, and Aner. Shall his son? shall he,
‘In this detested land; and yet this land
‘Was once our home. From Ur , Chaldæan Ur
‘Abraham, the venerable patriarch, came.
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‘His house, to Sichem, and to Moreh's plain,
‘Jehovah call'd; and from the Memphian stream
‘To where Euphrates bathes Chaldæa's banks,
‘To him, and to his seed for ever gave
‘That seat of mighty nations: there the sons
‘Of Canaan pitch'd their tents; the Kenite there
‘Pastur'd his flock; beneath their mantling vines
‘The Kadmonite and Hittite sat, and quaff'd
‘Nectareous beverage sweet. Ah! who shall drive
‘Those valiant warriors from their pleasant fields?
‘Shall Abraham? but unequal is his strength;
‘Nor yet is vengeance ripe. The Amorite,
‘A powerful name, whose race shall feel the edge
‘Of Israel's sword, confederates with his arms,
8
The base-born Ishmael, captive Hagar's hope,
‘Reign o'er the promis'd land? No other child
‘Yet calls him father; and his barren wife,
‘Sarah, the lovely Sarah, sinks in years,
‘Lamenting her sad lot. Yet mark, O king,
‘The power of Judah's God: when he commands,
‘Even nature deviates from her wonted course,
‘ And Sarah bears a son. With holy joy
‘The patriarch receives his promis'd heir,
‘And calls him Isaac. Nor with any maid
‘Of Canaan does he deign to match his son ;
‘But from the land, nam'd from two frontier streams
‘Which confine on its bounds, Rebecca came,
‘And, at one birth produced in happy hour
‘ Two pledges of her love. The first was rough
‘With hairy shag, like lion's brindled cub,
‘Or Indian tiger's whelp. All day he rang'd
‘The fields, a cunning hunter; and at eve
‘Bore on his shoulders huge the bleeding stag,
‘His aged sire's repast. His cattle rang'd
‘On Idumæan Seïr, and from him
‘Came Edom's warrior dukes. But Jacob, so
‘Was stiled the younger, was the chosen line
‘For which his God reserv'd the promis'd boon:
‘ Israel his other name. To him were born
‘Twelve sons, the founder of twelve powerful tribes,
‘Our great progenitors. Go to the shore,
‘And tell the sands, which the retiring tide
‘Hath left uncover'd; turn thine eye to heaven
‘And number all the twinkling stars of night,
‘Then shalt thou count their seed. Howbeit they pin'd
‘With famine, which o'er Canaan's ravag'd fields
‘Spread from Beet-sheba to the land of Nile,
‘And shed the blighting mildew, as it pass'd,
‘O'er herb, and fruit. But Egypt's provident lord
‘Foresaw the dearth, by two prophetic dreams
‘Reveal'd, and from seven years of plenty stored
‘ Exhaustless granaries. Thither Jacob went,
‘And in the richest soil, that soil, where late
‘The royal shepherds of Arabian race
‘Pastur'd their flocks, the sons of Israel spread
‘
Their tents. At first with hospitable voice
‘ The Egyptian bade them hail; but when their tribes
‘Increas'd, four hundred summers saw them toil
‘Beneath imperious masters. Many a town,
‘And many a goodly city did they raise,
‘ Pithom, and Rameses. When still they grew
‘Maugre their bitter toil, thro every nome,
‘ Were sent quick orders, that each Hebrew male
‘Fresh from the birth be plung'd beneath the stream,
‘If so the race of Israel might no more
‘Remain a separate name. Then wept the tribes;
‘Then trembled Reuben, and the tents of Dan
‘Were darken'd with dismay. Jehovah heard ,
‘And forthwith, arm'd with signs miraculous,
‘Sent Moses to their aid. Him in an ark
‘ Of rushes, on the river's sedgy brink,
‘Pouring his infant moans, Myrrhina heard,
‘Myrrhina, daughter of the Memphian crown.
‘She heard, and pitied; for full well she knew
‘Some Hebrew's hand had wove the verdant bed,
‘If chance his child might one short day survive
‘The tyrant's wrath. She rear'd him as her own,
‘ And taught him all the wise mysterious lore
‘Of Egypt, nurse of science. Aaron too,
‘From whose persuasive mouth flow'd eloquence
‘Sweeter than honey, which with Gilead's balm,
‘His vessel's precious freight, the Tyrian bore
‘From Canaan, in the wilderness receiv'd
‘His long lost brother. To the glittering court
‘
Of proud Busiris, captive Israel's scourge,
‘The sons of Amram speed; and in the name
‘Of great I AM, the Lord of Abraham, ask
‘Deliverance for his seed. “Hence, tell your God
“His people shall not go,” the tyrant cries;
‘When instant with his rod, the herald smites
‘Each river, pond, and fountain: where before
‘Flow'd water, limpid stream, huge lakes of blood
‘Stagnate o'er all the land. Seven days are pass'd,
‘And in his wonted channel once again
‘Rolls the pure element. But noisome frogs
‘Rise from the slimy soil, and even by night
‘Croak round their curtains in the hour of sleep,
‘Ill ominous. Next from the dust a swarm
‘Of creeping, and of winged insects rose,
‘Shadowing the face of noon. The pestilence
‘Consum'd their drooping herds, and beast, and man,
‘Were smitten sore. Heaven's adamantine gate
‘Flew open, and an hideous peal was heard
‘Of thunder mix'd with lightening, such as shook
‘The pillars of the world. Huge hail-stones smote
‘The verdant herb, and strip'd the mantling vine,
‘Laden with luscious grapes. The affrighted Prince
‘Relents; the heavens are calm'd. But soon his heart
‘Is sear'd; when all night long the east-wind blows
‘Impetuous, and to Egypt's ravag'd coasts
‘Wafts a black cloud of locusts: they, whate'er
‘The hail had spared, with blasting breath devour;
‘Nor on the trees, nor on the grass remains
‘Or leaf, or blade of green. Then Moses waves
‘His hand towards heaven, and o'er the afflicted land
‘Spreads darkness palpable. Three tedious days,
‘And three long nights in the same spot they sat,
‘Unseeing, and unseen. Yet, strange to tell,
‘Tho the proud king, and all his realm beside
‘Felt God's awaken'd ire, no ill assail'd
‘The sojourners of Goshen. And when soon
‘The Egyptians saw their first-born drench'd in gore,
‘The avenging angel pass'd o'er every house,
‘Where slept the tribes of Israel. Hence a feast
‘Sacrifical, memorial of that night,
‘Was yearly solemniz'd, while Judah yet
‘Was free; and shall again, if e'er they reach
‘The fields of promise. Terrour now subdues
‘The monarch's soul, and he who late forbad
‘His captives to depart, impatient speeds
‘Their march towards Canaan. Nathless he pursues
‘The fugitives. They on the red-sea coast
‘ By Pihahiroth old had pitch'd their tents,
‘When sudden from the west they heard the sound
‘Of chariots, and of horsemen. O'er the flood
‘Their gallant leader waves his wand, and lo!
‘The obedient waters part, and on dry land.
‘Safe thro the sea the sons of Jacob pass;
‘The tyrant follows; but the Arabian gulph
‘Shuts close, and swallows him with all his host.
‘Reign o'er the promis'd land? No other child
‘Yet calls him father; and his barren wife,
‘Sarah, the lovely Sarah, sinks in years,
‘Lamenting her sad lot. Yet mark, O king,
‘The power of Judah's God: when he commands,
‘Even nature deviates from her wonted course,
‘ And Sarah bears a son. With holy joy
‘The patriarch receives his promis'd heir,
‘And calls him Isaac. Nor with any maid
‘Of Canaan does he deign to match his son ;
‘But from the land, nam'd from two frontier streams
‘Which confine on its bounds, Rebecca came,
9
‘ Two pledges of her love. The first was rough
‘With hairy shag, like lion's brindled cub,
‘Or Indian tiger's whelp. All day he rang'd
‘The fields, a cunning hunter; and at eve
‘Bore on his shoulders huge the bleeding stag,
‘His aged sire's repast. His cattle rang'd
‘On Idumæan Seïr, and from him
‘Came Edom's warrior dukes. But Jacob, so
‘Was stiled the younger, was the chosen line
‘For which his God reserv'd the promis'd boon:
‘ Israel his other name. To him were born
‘Twelve sons, the founder of twelve powerful tribes,
‘Our great progenitors. Go to the shore,
10
‘Hath left uncover'd; turn thine eye to heaven
‘And number all the twinkling stars of night,
‘Then shalt thou count their seed. Howbeit they pin'd
‘With famine, which o'er Canaan's ravag'd fields
‘Spread from Beet-sheba to the land of Nile,
‘And shed the blighting mildew, as it pass'd,
‘O'er herb, and fruit. But Egypt's provident lord
‘Foresaw the dearth, by two prophetic dreams
‘Reveal'd, and from seven years of plenty stored
‘ Exhaustless granaries. Thither Jacob went,
‘And in the richest soil, that soil, where late
‘The royal shepherds of Arabian race
‘Pastur'd their flocks, the sons of Israel spread
11
‘ The Egyptian bade them hail; but when their tribes
‘Increas'd, four hundred summers saw them toil
‘Beneath imperious masters. Many a town,
‘And many a goodly city did they raise,
‘ Pithom, and Rameses. When still they grew
‘Maugre their bitter toil, thro every nome,
‘ Were sent quick orders, that each Hebrew male
‘Fresh from the birth be plung'd beneath the stream,
‘If so the race of Israel might no more
‘Remain a separate name. Then wept the tribes;
‘Then trembled Reuben, and the tents of Dan
‘Were darken'd with dismay. Jehovah heard ,
‘And forthwith, arm'd with signs miraculous,
12
‘ Of rushes, on the river's sedgy brink,
‘Pouring his infant moans, Myrrhina heard,
‘Myrrhina, daughter of the Memphian crown.
‘She heard, and pitied; for full well she knew
‘Some Hebrew's hand had wove the verdant bed,
‘If chance his child might one short day survive
‘The tyrant's wrath. She rear'd him as her own,
‘ And taught him all the wise mysterious lore
‘Of Egypt, nurse of science. Aaron too,
‘From whose persuasive mouth flow'd eloquence
‘Sweeter than honey, which with Gilead's balm,
‘His vessel's precious freight, the Tyrian bore
‘From Canaan, in the wilderness receiv'd
‘His long lost brother. To the glittering court
13
‘The sons of Amram speed; and in the name
‘Of great I AM, the Lord of Abraham, ask
‘Deliverance for his seed. “Hence, tell your God
“His people shall not go,” the tyrant cries;
‘When instant with his rod, the herald smites
‘Each river, pond, and fountain: where before
‘Flow'd water, limpid stream, huge lakes of blood
‘Stagnate o'er all the land. Seven days are pass'd,
‘And in his wonted channel once again
‘Rolls the pure element. But noisome frogs
‘Rise from the slimy soil, and even by night
‘Croak round their curtains in the hour of sleep,
‘Ill ominous. Next from the dust a swarm
14
‘Shadowing the face of noon. The pestilence
‘Consum'd their drooping herds, and beast, and man,
‘Were smitten sore. Heaven's adamantine gate
‘Flew open, and an hideous peal was heard
‘Of thunder mix'd with lightening, such as shook
‘The pillars of the world. Huge hail-stones smote
‘The verdant herb, and strip'd the mantling vine,
‘Laden with luscious grapes. The affrighted Prince
‘Relents; the heavens are calm'd. But soon his heart
‘Is sear'd; when all night long the east-wind blows
‘Impetuous, and to Egypt's ravag'd coasts
‘Wafts a black cloud of locusts: they, whate'er
‘The hail had spared, with blasting breath devour;
15
‘Or leaf, or blade of green. Then Moses waves
‘His hand towards heaven, and o'er the afflicted land
‘Spreads darkness palpable. Three tedious days,
‘And three long nights in the same spot they sat,
‘Unseeing, and unseen. Yet, strange to tell,
‘Tho the proud king, and all his realm beside
‘Felt God's awaken'd ire, no ill assail'd
‘The sojourners of Goshen. And when soon
‘The Egyptians saw their first-born drench'd in gore,
‘The avenging angel pass'd o'er every house,
‘Where slept the tribes of Israel. Hence a feast
‘Sacrifical, memorial of that night,
‘Was yearly solemniz'd, while Judah yet
‘Was free; and shall again, if e'er they reach
16
‘The monarch's soul, and he who late forbad
‘His captives to depart, impatient speeds
‘Their march towards Canaan. Nathless he pursues
‘The fugitives. They on the red-sea coast
‘ By Pihahiroth old had pitch'd their tents,
‘When sudden from the west they heard the sound
‘Of chariots, and of horsemen. O'er the flood
‘Their gallant leader waves his wand, and lo!
‘The obedient waters part, and on dry land.
‘Safe thro the sea the sons of Jacob pass;
‘The tyrant follows; but the Arabian gulph
‘Shuts close, and swallows him with all his host.
‘And now o'er rock, o'er desart, vale, and plain,
‘By
Marah's bitter waters, by the wells
‘Of palmy Elim , and the wilds of Sin ,
‘ Three months they journied, till they saw the heights
‘Of Horeb, and of Sinai. There did God
‘Display a scene of dread magnificence ;
‘He bow'd the heavens, and in a flaming fire
‘Descended from on high. The mountain felt
‘Unusual weight, and with convulsive throes
‘Shook to his center. O'er the top was spread
‘A dark thick cloud, and streams of smoke arose,
‘Wreathing their dusky volumes. Then 'gan sound
‘The trump of God; that trump, which none can blow
‘Beneath arch-angel's strength. And now the voice
‘Is louder, and yet louder, while the tribes
‘With new-wash'd garments, and unsandal'd feet
‘Fall prostrate on the ground. Mean-time their guide
‘Even on the summit of the burning hill
‘Held converse with the highest, and from his hand
‘Receiv'd two plates of stone, whereon were graven,
‘On either side, those everlasting laws,
‘Which none may break, and live. Here too he gave
‘ The pattern of an ark, where ay he dwelt,
‘While Israel, yet unsettled, spread his tents
‘On mountain, or in vale. Twice wan'd the moon ,
‘Nor Moses yet return'd. The impatient tribes
‘Demand a God; when Aaron, strange to tell,
‘Rears a grim idol, carv'd of fusil gold,
‘Such idol, as in Egypt's hated land
‘Their enemies ador'd. With dance, and song,
‘And festive shouts his frantic votaries hail
‘Their new deliverer, and ‘a God, a God,’
‘Each voice proclaims, while Horeb's cliffs resound
‘‘A God, a God.’ Now Moses, from the mount
‘Descending, heard the shouts of dissonance,
‘And on the rock the holy tablets dash'd ,
‘Indignant: o'er the water next he strew'd,
‘Ground to vile dust, their molten deity,
‘And made them stoop their base necks to the draught
‘Inglorious. Then he bade his Levites arm,
‘And each man thro the camp from gate to gate
‘ Slew brother, friend, companion; in that day
‘Three thousand fell. But God allay'd his wrath,
‘His honour satisfied; yet still denounc'd
‘Severest vengeance, should they e'er again
‘Bow down to ought created, or unite
‘In league of amity, or nuptial bond,
‘With base idolaters. How long they rov'd
‘The pathless desart; how the wanton nymphs
‘Of Midian drew them to the obscene rites
‘Of Peör; how the wasting pestilence
‘Consum'd their tribes; or how the solid earth
‘Clave where they stood, and buried in her womb
‘The leaders of sedition, Eliab's sons,
‘Behoves not now to tell. The promis'd land,
‘The nearer they approach the frontier line,
‘Retires still farther. So when late at eve
‘The traveller on some distant hill descries
‘An hospitable lodge, he thinks full soon
‘To rest his weary limbs; but strait appears
‘A valley interpos'd, which the slope earth
‘Foreshorten'd on his eye, and bids him haste,
‘For lo! the twilight melts away, and night
‘With hasty strides pursues him. In that land
‘Even Amram's son, the leader of the way,
‘Ne'er plac'd his foot; tho from the summit high
‘Of Pisgah, he survey'd the stately palms
‘Of Palæstine, the fig-trees, and the vines,
‘Which shew'd their clusters to the mid-day fun,
‘Rich cedar-groves, and every fir that crown'd
‘The brow of Lebanon. He saw, and died:
‘ The vale of Moab, by the ancient shrine
‘Of Peor receiv'd his bones; but never man
‘Could trace his sepulchre, lest Israël
‘Might hail him as a god, and at his tomb
‘Perform abominations. Howbeit him,
‘Favour'd of heaven so highly, Judah held
‘In holiest awe: to him the prophets bow'd;
‘His laws, his civil polity, his rites
‘Religious bound the tribes, while yet they till'd
‘The fields of promise; and if once again
‘Thy grace restore them to that pleasant land,
‘Graven on their foreheads shall his words be seen,
‘And the broad scroll even to their garments edge
‘Shall hang for a memorial. Moses dead,
‘ Full thirty days the afflicted Hebrews weep
‘Their lost deliverer. Yet without a guide
‘He left them not: to Joshua with one voice
‘ They vow'd obedience. He thro Jordan's stream ,
‘Which parted as they pass'd, conducted safe
‘The shouting Israelites, while in the midst
‘Firm on dry ground the anointed Levites stood,
‘Bearing the mystic ark. If ever chance
‘Shall lead thee to that unfrequented spot,
‘ Twelve stones, a sign to future times, will mark
‘The place, where forty thousand warriors pass'd
‘To claim their heritage. Then shook the kings
‘Of Canaan, and the Amorite presag'd
‘Destruction to his gods; then fell the walls
‘Of Jericho . In vain conspir'd the strength
‘Of Hebron, and of Lachish; Eglon's lord
‘In vain with Piram join'd confederate arms;
‘Keen was the sword of Joshua; heaven's high host
‘Beneath his banner fought; the moon, the sun ,
‘Stood still to hail his victory. From their cliffs
‘He swept the giant Anakim; and all
‘The country of the south, hill, valley, plain,
‘From Halak even to Hermon's dewy brow,
‘Obey'd the new possessors. To each tribe
‘ A portion was assign'd, save Levi's sons;
‘They, honour'd more than all, receiv'd their lot,
‘ An everlasting priesthood, and the tenth
‘Of fruits, of flocks was theirs. Twas theirs to waft
‘The fragrant incense to the gates of heaven,
‘And pour the victim's blood. Still much remain'd
‘Unconquer'd; often with their foes they strove,
‘Now victors, now subdued. Again they bow'd
‘To idols, Ashtaroth, and Baälim ,
‘And all the vanities of Syria,
‘Of Moab, and of Sidon. Then, ah! then,
‘The Ammonite smote their inglorious backs ,
‘Harness'd for fight; and, omen dire! the ark,
‘Pledge of God's covenant with his chosen seed,
‘Siez'd by Philistia's troops, adorn'd the shrine
‘Of Dagon. But not long; the molten beast,
‘Aw'd by his presence, on whose seat he sat
‘Usurping power celestial, from the height
‘Down dropt; his sever'd head, and mangled palms
‘Lay prostrate on the ground. Then quaked the priests
‘Of Ashdod; and to Gath, and Ekron, first,
‘Thence to Bethshemesh
, where the landmark stands
‘Parting the fields of Dan from Judah's lot,
‘Convey'd the fatal prize. Now Samuel pray'd;
‘On the bright fire a spotless victim smoak'd ,
‘Whose odour, sweeter than the scented gale
‘From blest Arabia's groves, in eddying wreaths
‘Ascended. Soon he heard the thunder roar
‘O'er Philistæan tents, and saw them flee
‘Gor'd by the trenchant blade of Israel,
‘With hideous rout confounded. Him, while yet
‘A child, Jehovah call'd, and thrice pronounc'd
‘His name. Twas hence he learnt in earliest youth
‘The sacred ministry, and knew full well
‘The rites of sacrifice, and when the hour
‘To seeth the flesh, and when to burn the fat,
‘Or feed with oil the unextinguish'd lamps.
‘Him Israel honour'd long; till prone to change,
‘ ‘ Give us some man of war, the murmurers cried,
‘ ‘Some king to fight our battles.’ Sore he sigh'd,
‘For in prophetic vision he foresaw
‘The miseries of his country. On the head
‘Of towering Saul he pour'd the imperial oil ,
‘While all the shouting tribes with loud acclaim
‘Hail their elected monarch. He, thus rais'd
‘By God's especial choice, forgot the hand
‘That rais'd him; happier, had he still remain'd
‘Amidst the humble tents of Benjamin
‘Unknowing, and unknown: for dark distrust,
‘Suspicion, melancholy, and black despair
‘Prey'd on his spirit; and his crown was wove
‘With sharper thorns, than tear the mangled flesh,
‘The tenters of the soul. With adverse fate
‘Long time he struggled, till on Gilboa's mount
‘With his three sons Philistia saw him fall,
‘Then nail'd to Bethshan's gate his streaming trunk,
‘And with his arms, her trophies, deck'd the shrine
‘Of horned Ashtaroth. The vacant throne
‘Was fill'd by Jesse's son, heaven's favour'd prince,
‘David. To him the promise was renew'd,
‘Long since to Abraham given, that in his seed
‘All nations should be blest. Twas he that slew
‘Proud Gath's gigantic champion, when his voice,
‘Loud as the roaring of a whirlwind's blast,
‘Defied the armies of the living God.
‘He too, when Amalek pour'd on the south,
,
‘Repell'd the bold invader. Forty years
‘He sway'd the sceptre, and his banner wav'd
‘O'er all the promis'd land. Sion to him
‘Her fortress yielded: there he plac'd the ark ,
‘That sojourn'd long in Gibeah, and with dance,
‘And song, and instrumental melody,
‘Proclaim'd a sacrifice. For who like him
‘Could touch the strings of viol, or of harp,
‘Whether in fuller strains he rous'd the soul
‘To gallant feats of war, or with soft airs
‘Drew from each eye the involuntary tear,
‘The tear of sympathy. But not to him
‘Was destin'd to erect a nobler shrine,
‘A mansion for his God. His sapient heir,
‘(Whose wisdom far excell'd whate'er the east,
‘Or Egypt, birth-place of ingenious arts,
‘Could boast; to whom the sons of Zerah bow'd,
‘Eman, and Darda; who could call each tree ,
‘Each beast, each insect by his name, and mark
‘Their separate properties;) this glorious work,
‘Model'd in heaven, and for his hands reserv'd,
‘ Rear'd on the mount of Moriah. There it stood,
‘And might have yet defied the rage of time,
‘The waste of centuries. From Lebanon
‘Ten thousand fellers hew'd the knotty trunk ,
‘Cedar, and fir; and when the new moon shot
‘Her feeble rays, ten thousand others came
‘In regular succession. On broad floats
‘The Tyrian monarch bound the polish'd beams,
‘Carv'd by Sidonian artists, and receiv'd
‘Each year rich stores of corn, and oil, and wine,
‘The merchandize of Canaan. Nor mean time
‘Did twice two thousand axes cease to cleave
‘The mountain's side, and from its center scoop
‘Huge blocks of marble, and of porphyry,
‘The temple's deep foundation. That secur'd,
‘ Seven summers roll'd away, when now the shrine
‘Uprear'd his awful head. Should I report
‘Each separate part, the pillars, palms, and flowers ,
‘The doors of olive, and the Cherubim
‘Which spread their wings of gold; should I unfold
‘The wealth, the glories of that stately pile,
‘The day would fail me, tho the sun not yet
‘Hath reach'd his middle course. But not for that,
‘Nor for ought else which earthly pride can boast,
‘Flow Judah's tears perennial; but that there
‘Jehovah dwelt, that there he deign'd appear
‘In visible effulgence. Could we raise
‘Another pile, tho Syria shall refuse
‘Her cedars, nor Sidonian artists carve
‘The dædal figures, tho nor solid bulk,
‘Nor space, dimension'd out in round and square,
‘Shall vye with what is lost; yet there, even there,
‘By fervent prayer, and frequent sacrifice
‘Invok'd, who knows but God may still reside,
‘And in compassion to our weaker sight
‘The unclouded blaze of his divinity
‘Temper with mildest rays? A solemn feast
‘Shall testify our joy, such as was held
‘Two weeks from Hamath to the Memphian stream,
‘When Solomon before the altar rais'd
‘His eyes to heaven, and in the oracle
‘Bade Zadock gently lay the vagrant ark,
‘The covenant of redemption. But his heart
‘Eftsoons by Gentile harlots was estrang'd
‘From him, to whom his altar smoak'd with clouds
‘Of never-ceasing incense: nor could all
‘His former wisdom, heaven-inspir'd, forbid
‘The doting monarch on the opprobrious hill
‘To build an high place for the rights impure
‘Of Moab, and of Sidon. Hence, when he
‘Slept with his fathers, God arose, and rent
‘The kingdom from his son. Ten tribes retired
,
‘And form'd a separate nation. Sion still
‘Remain'd to David's heir; and from that hour
‘Rais'd from one stock two sovereign thrones appear'd,
‘Israel, and Judah. With enchanted spells,
‘And magic divination, Israel rais'd
‘ A grove, and worship'd all the host of heaven.
‘ Hence soon their conqueror from Samaria, scene
‘Of all their horrid mysteries, remov'd
‘The wretched vagabonds; and in their stead
‘Planted a motley crew, the sons of Cuth,
‘Hamath, and Ava, with the worshippers
‘Of fierce Adramelech. Had Judah, warn'd
‘By Israel's doom, tho late, obey'd her God,
‘Thou hadst not seen us here, an exil'd race,
‘Imploring aid from thee. Yet some, who sat
‘On David's throne, averted for a while
‘Cælestial vengeance. Asa first, who tore
‘The crown imperial from his mother's brow ,
‘Idolatrous Maächah. Then, endued
‘With all the pious fervour of his sire ,
‘Jehosaphat: and Joas next, preserv'd
‘In infancy from Athalia's rage;
‘And Jotham . Nor unnotic'd be the name
‘ Of Hezekiah. He with lifted ax
‘Level'd the groves, where oft at night's still hour
‘With hideous noise their frantic votaries howl'd
‘To devils. He, when doom'd to death, by prayer
‘Suspended God's own mandate; and, a pledge
‘Of lengthen'd life, on the fix'd dial saw
‘The shade retire full ten degrees of heaven.
‘Josiah still remain'd, predicted heir
‘Of David's royal house. Him all the priests,
‘Prophets, and people, heard with awful voice
‘Renew the covenant. He from idols purg'd
‘Each valley, and each hill; and rear'd a pile,
‘Where blaz'd the crackling chariots of the sun ,
‘Offerings of Judah's kings. Could ever man
‘Have chang'd the immutable decrees of heaven,
‘Josiah had prevail'd. But vengeance now
‘Was ripe; in war the patriot monarch fell,
‘Slain at Megiddo by barbarian hands;
‘Nor did his sons escape the victor's rage,
‘Bound with inglorious chains. And now approach'd
‘The fatal hour, when hostile fire should wreath
‘Its dusky smoak o'er Sion's darken'd brow.
‘What tho her holy priests foretold the fate
‘Of lost Jerusalem; what tho her seers
‘In vision, or extatic trance, beheld
‘The appointed day; the perverse tribes despised
‘Their warning voice, and, from their God estrang'd,
‘Wallow'd in foul pollution. But his wrath,
‘Tho long defer'd, was terrible. Even now
‘I hear the shouts, and neighing of the steeds ,
‘When round her walls the fierce Chaldæan rang'd
‘His unresisted legions: yet I see
‘The madness of despair, the pale dismay
‘Which spread o'er every face. Can I forget,
‘Tho then a child, O can I e'er forget
‘The shrieks, the groans, and unavailing prayers,
‘Which God not deign'd to hear? Mean time the streets
‘Were fill'd with armed troops, thro every gate
‘Thick swarming: down they tear the marble towers,
‘Which crown the walls ; great David's first, where hang
‘A thousand bucklers, useless now, and vain,
‘Once shields of mighty men. Huge stones obstruct
‘Siloa's clear fount, and Cedron, rapid brook,
‘Tho swoln by sudden rains, forgets to flow.
17
‘Of palmy Elim , and the wilds of Sin ,
‘ Three months they journied, till they saw the heights
‘Of Horeb, and of Sinai. There did God
‘Display a scene of dread magnificence ;
‘He bow'd the heavens, and in a flaming fire
‘Descended from on high. The mountain felt
‘Unusual weight, and with convulsive throes
‘Shook to his center. O'er the top was spread
‘A dark thick cloud, and streams of smoke arose,
‘Wreathing their dusky volumes. Then 'gan sound
‘The trump of God; that trump, which none can blow
‘Beneath arch-angel's strength. And now the voice
‘Is louder, and yet louder, while the tribes
18
‘Fall prostrate on the ground. Mean-time their guide
‘Even on the summit of the burning hill
‘Held converse with the highest, and from his hand
‘Receiv'd two plates of stone, whereon were graven,
‘On either side, those everlasting laws,
‘Which none may break, and live. Here too he gave
‘ The pattern of an ark, where ay he dwelt,
‘While Israel, yet unsettled, spread his tents
‘On mountain, or in vale. Twice wan'd the moon ,
‘Nor Moses yet return'd. The impatient tribes
‘Demand a God; when Aaron, strange to tell,
‘Rears a grim idol, carv'd of fusil gold,
‘Such idol, as in Egypt's hated land
19
‘And festive shouts his frantic votaries hail
‘Their new deliverer, and ‘a God, a God,’
‘Each voice proclaims, while Horeb's cliffs resound
‘‘A God, a God.’ Now Moses, from the mount
‘Descending, heard the shouts of dissonance,
‘And on the rock the holy tablets dash'd ,
‘Indignant: o'er the water next he strew'd,
‘Ground to vile dust, their molten deity,
‘And made them stoop their base necks to the draught
‘Inglorious. Then he bade his Levites arm,
‘And each man thro the camp from gate to gate
‘ Slew brother, friend, companion; in that day
‘Three thousand fell. But God allay'd his wrath,
20
‘Severest vengeance, should they e'er again
‘Bow down to ought created, or unite
‘In league of amity, or nuptial bond,
‘With base idolaters. How long they rov'd
‘The pathless desart; how the wanton nymphs
‘Of Midian drew them to the obscene rites
‘Of Peör; how the wasting pestilence
‘Consum'd their tribes; or how the solid earth
‘Clave where they stood, and buried in her womb
‘The leaders of sedition, Eliab's sons,
‘Behoves not now to tell. The promis'd land,
‘The nearer they approach the frontier line,
‘Retires still farther. So when late at eve
21
‘An hospitable lodge, he thinks full soon
‘To rest his weary limbs; but strait appears
‘A valley interpos'd, which the slope earth
‘Foreshorten'd on his eye, and bids him haste,
‘For lo! the twilight melts away, and night
‘With hasty strides pursues him. In that land
‘Even Amram's son, the leader of the way,
‘Ne'er plac'd his foot; tho from the summit high
‘Of Pisgah, he survey'd the stately palms
‘Of Palæstine, the fig-trees, and the vines,
‘Which shew'd their clusters to the mid-day fun,
‘Rich cedar-groves, and every fir that crown'd
‘The brow of Lebanon. He saw, and died:
‘ The vale of Moab, by the ancient shrine
22
‘Could trace his sepulchre, lest Israël
‘Might hail him as a god, and at his tomb
‘Perform abominations. Howbeit him,
‘Favour'd of heaven so highly, Judah held
‘In holiest awe: to him the prophets bow'd;
‘His laws, his civil polity, his rites
‘Religious bound the tribes, while yet they till'd
‘The fields of promise; and if once again
‘Thy grace restore them to that pleasant land,
‘Graven on their foreheads shall his words be seen,
‘And the broad scroll even to their garments edge
‘Shall hang for a memorial. Moses dead,
‘ Full thirty days the afflicted Hebrews weep
‘Their lost deliverer. Yet without a guide
23
‘ They vow'd obedience. He thro Jordan's stream ,
‘Which parted as they pass'd, conducted safe
‘The shouting Israelites, while in the midst
‘Firm on dry ground the anointed Levites stood,
‘Bearing the mystic ark. If ever chance
‘Shall lead thee to that unfrequented spot,
‘ Twelve stones, a sign to future times, will mark
‘The place, where forty thousand warriors pass'd
‘To claim their heritage. Then shook the kings
‘Of Canaan, and the Amorite presag'd
‘Destruction to his gods; then fell the walls
‘Of Jericho . In vain conspir'd the strength
‘Of Hebron, and of Lachish; Eglon's lord
24
‘Keen was the sword of Joshua; heaven's high host
‘Beneath his banner fought; the moon, the sun ,
‘Stood still to hail his victory. From their cliffs
‘He swept the giant Anakim; and all
‘The country of the south, hill, valley, plain,
‘From Halak even to Hermon's dewy brow,
‘Obey'd the new possessors. To each tribe
‘ A portion was assign'd, save Levi's sons;
‘They, honour'd more than all, receiv'd their lot,
‘ An everlasting priesthood, and the tenth
‘Of fruits, of flocks was theirs. Twas theirs to waft
‘The fragrant incense to the gates of heaven,
‘And pour the victim's blood. Still much remain'd
25
‘Now victors, now subdued. Again they bow'd
‘To idols, Ashtaroth, and Baälim ,
‘And all the vanities of Syria,
‘Of Moab, and of Sidon. Then, ah! then,
‘The Ammonite smote their inglorious backs ,
‘Harness'd for fight; and, omen dire! the ark,
‘Pledge of God's covenant with his chosen seed,
‘Siez'd by Philistia's troops, adorn'd the shrine
‘Of Dagon. But not long; the molten beast,
‘Aw'd by his presence, on whose seat he sat
‘Usurping power celestial, from the height
‘Down dropt; his sever'd head, and mangled palms
‘Lay prostrate on the ground. Then quaked the priests
‘Of Ashdod; and to Gath, and Ekron, first,
26
‘Parting the fields of Dan from Judah's lot,
‘Convey'd the fatal prize. Now Samuel pray'd;
‘On the bright fire a spotless victim smoak'd ,
‘Whose odour, sweeter than the scented gale
‘From blest Arabia's groves, in eddying wreaths
‘Ascended. Soon he heard the thunder roar
‘O'er Philistæan tents, and saw them flee
‘Gor'd by the trenchant blade of Israel,
‘With hideous rout confounded. Him, while yet
‘A child, Jehovah call'd, and thrice pronounc'd
‘His name. Twas hence he learnt in earliest youth
‘The sacred ministry, and knew full well
‘The rites of sacrifice, and when the hour
‘To seeth the flesh, and when to burn the fat,
27
‘Him Israel honour'd long; till prone to change,
‘ ‘ Give us some man of war, the murmurers cried,
‘ ‘Some king to fight our battles.’ Sore he sigh'd,
‘For in prophetic vision he foresaw
‘The miseries of his country. On the head
‘Of towering Saul he pour'd the imperial oil ,
‘While all the shouting tribes with loud acclaim
‘Hail their elected monarch. He, thus rais'd
‘By God's especial choice, forgot the hand
‘That rais'd him; happier, had he still remain'd
‘Amidst the humble tents of Benjamin
‘Unknowing, and unknown: for dark distrust,
‘Suspicion, melancholy, and black despair
‘Prey'd on his spirit; and his crown was wove
28
‘The tenters of the soul. With adverse fate
‘Long time he struggled, till on Gilboa's mount
‘With his three sons Philistia saw him fall,
‘Then nail'd to Bethshan's gate his streaming trunk,
‘And with his arms, her trophies, deck'd the shrine
‘Of horned Ashtaroth. The vacant throne
‘Was fill'd by Jesse's son, heaven's favour'd prince,
‘David. To him the promise was renew'd,
‘Long since to Abraham given, that in his seed
‘All nations should be blest. Twas he that slew
‘Proud Gath's gigantic champion, when his voice,
‘Loud as the roaring of a whirlwind's blast,
‘Defied the armies of the living God.
29
‘Repell'd the bold invader. Forty years
‘He sway'd the sceptre, and his banner wav'd
‘O'er all the promis'd land. Sion to him
‘Her fortress yielded: there he plac'd the ark ,
‘That sojourn'd long in Gibeah, and with dance,
‘And song, and instrumental melody,
‘Proclaim'd a sacrifice. For who like him
‘Could touch the strings of viol, or of harp,
‘Whether in fuller strains he rous'd the soul
‘To gallant feats of war, or with soft airs
‘Drew from each eye the involuntary tear,
‘The tear of sympathy. But not to him
‘Was destin'd to erect a nobler shrine,
30
‘(Whose wisdom far excell'd whate'er the east,
‘Or Egypt, birth-place of ingenious arts,
‘Could boast; to whom the sons of Zerah bow'd,
‘Eman, and Darda; who could call each tree ,
‘Each beast, each insect by his name, and mark
‘Their separate properties;) this glorious work,
‘Model'd in heaven, and for his hands reserv'd,
‘ Rear'd on the mount of Moriah. There it stood,
‘And might have yet defied the rage of time,
‘The waste of centuries. From Lebanon
‘Ten thousand fellers hew'd the knotty trunk ,
‘Cedar, and fir; and when the new moon shot
‘Her feeble rays, ten thousand others came
31
‘The Tyrian monarch bound the polish'd beams,
‘Carv'd by Sidonian artists, and receiv'd
‘Each year rich stores of corn, and oil, and wine,
‘The merchandize of Canaan. Nor mean time
‘Did twice two thousand axes cease to cleave
‘The mountain's side, and from its center scoop
‘Huge blocks of marble, and of porphyry,
‘The temple's deep foundation. That secur'd,
‘ Seven summers roll'd away, when now the shrine
‘Uprear'd his awful head. Should I report
‘Each separate part, the pillars, palms, and flowers ,
‘The doors of olive, and the Cherubim
‘Which spread their wings of gold; should I unfold
‘The wealth, the glories of that stately pile,
32
‘Hath reach'd his middle course. But not for that,
‘Nor for ought else which earthly pride can boast,
‘Flow Judah's tears perennial; but that there
‘Jehovah dwelt, that there he deign'd appear
‘In visible effulgence. Could we raise
‘Another pile, tho Syria shall refuse
‘Her cedars, nor Sidonian artists carve
‘The dædal figures, tho nor solid bulk,
‘Nor space, dimension'd out in round and square,
‘Shall vye with what is lost; yet there, even there,
‘By fervent prayer, and frequent sacrifice
‘Invok'd, who knows but God may still reside,
‘And in compassion to our weaker sight
‘The unclouded blaze of his divinity
‘Temper with mildest rays? A solemn feast
33
‘Two weeks from Hamath to the Memphian stream,
‘When Solomon before the altar rais'd
‘His eyes to heaven, and in the oracle
‘Bade Zadock gently lay the vagrant ark,
‘The covenant of redemption. But his heart
‘Eftsoons by Gentile harlots was estrang'd
‘From him, to whom his altar smoak'd with clouds
‘Of never-ceasing incense: nor could all
‘His former wisdom, heaven-inspir'd, forbid
‘The doting monarch on the opprobrious hill
‘To build an high place for the rights impure
‘Of Moab, and of Sidon. Hence, when he
‘Slept with his fathers, God arose, and rent
34
‘And form'd a separate nation. Sion still
‘Remain'd to David's heir; and from that hour
‘Rais'd from one stock two sovereign thrones appear'd,
‘Israel, and Judah. With enchanted spells,
‘And magic divination, Israel rais'd
‘ A grove, and worship'd all the host of heaven.
‘ Hence soon their conqueror from Samaria, scene
‘Of all their horrid mysteries, remov'd
‘The wretched vagabonds; and in their stead
‘Planted a motley crew, the sons of Cuth,
‘Hamath, and Ava, with the worshippers
‘Of fierce Adramelech. Had Judah, warn'd
‘By Israel's doom, tho late, obey'd her God,
‘Thou hadst not seen us here, an exil'd race,
35
‘On David's throne, averted for a while
‘Cælestial vengeance. Asa first, who tore
‘The crown imperial from his mother's brow ,
‘Idolatrous Maächah. Then, endued
‘With all the pious fervour of his sire ,
‘Jehosaphat: and Joas next, preserv'd
‘In infancy from Athalia's rage;
‘And Jotham . Nor unnotic'd be the name
‘ Of Hezekiah. He with lifted ax
‘Level'd the groves, where oft at night's still hour
‘With hideous noise their frantic votaries howl'd
‘To devils. He, when doom'd to death, by prayer
‘Suspended God's own mandate; and, a pledge
36
‘The shade retire full ten degrees of heaven.
‘Josiah still remain'd, predicted heir
‘Of David's royal house. Him all the priests,
‘Prophets, and people, heard with awful voice
‘Renew the covenant. He from idols purg'd
‘Each valley, and each hill; and rear'd a pile,
‘Where blaz'd the crackling chariots of the sun ,
‘Offerings of Judah's kings. Could ever man
‘Have chang'd the immutable decrees of heaven,
‘Josiah had prevail'd. But vengeance now
‘Was ripe; in war the patriot monarch fell,
‘Slain at Megiddo by barbarian hands;
‘Nor did his sons escape the victor's rage,
37
‘The fatal hour, when hostile fire should wreath
‘Its dusky smoak o'er Sion's darken'd brow.
‘What tho her holy priests foretold the fate
‘Of lost Jerusalem; what tho her seers
‘In vision, or extatic trance, beheld
‘The appointed day; the perverse tribes despised
‘Their warning voice, and, from their God estrang'd,
‘Wallow'd in foul pollution. But his wrath,
‘Tho long defer'd, was terrible. Even now
‘I hear the shouts, and neighing of the steeds ,
‘When round her walls the fierce Chaldæan rang'd
‘His unresisted legions: yet I see
‘The madness of despair, the pale dismay
‘Which spread o'er every face. Can I forget,
38
‘The shrieks, the groans, and unavailing prayers,
‘Which God not deign'd to hear? Mean time the streets
‘Were fill'd with armed troops, thro every gate
‘Thick swarming: down they tear the marble towers,
‘Which crown the walls ; great David's first, where hang
‘A thousand bucklers, useless now, and vain,
‘Once shields of mighty men. Huge stones obstruct
‘Siloa's clear fount, and Cedron, rapid brook,
‘Tho swoln by sudden rains, forgets to flow.
‘And now the sons of rapine hasten up
‘The everlasting hill, and, dire to tell!
‘With impious step profane the holy shrine,
‘Nor spare the mystic veil. In vain the priests
‘Oppose their feeble strength; in vain they strive
‘To save the sacred vessels of their God
‘From hands idolatrous: in heaps they throw
‘The golden cups, the gems of richest hues,
‘Jasper, and amethyst: the purple robes,
‘The breast-plate, crown, and ephod. O'er them stands
‘A chosen troop, whose falchions wave around,
‘And guard their prey. Meanwhile the loud laments
‘Of matrons, and of virgins, rend the air:
‘They on the altar hang, or clasp their arms
‘Round every pillar; scarce the uplifted sword
‘Can drive the mourners from the courts they love.
‘The everlasting hill, and, dire to tell!
‘With impious step profane the holy shrine,
‘Nor spare the mystic veil. In vain the priests
‘Oppose their feeble strength; in vain they strive
39
‘From hands idolatrous: in heaps they throw
‘The golden cups, the gems of richest hues,
‘Jasper, and amethyst: the purple robes,
‘The breast-plate, crown, and ephod. O'er them stands
‘A chosen troop, whose falchions wave around,
‘And guard their prey. Meanwhile the loud laments
‘Of matrons, and of virgins, rend the air:
‘They on the altar hang, or clasp their arms
‘Round every pillar; scarce the uplifted sword
‘Can drive the mourners from the courts they love.
‘This done, the victor by the trumpet's voice
‘Commands, that thro the eastern gate be led
‘The tribes of vanquish'd Solyma, who fill
‘The winding vale, a piteous spectacle,
‘Men, women, helpless infants, hoary seers,
‘Prepar'd for banishment. With downcast eye
‘In silent grief the captive monarch stands,
‘Abash'd. His faithful consort by his side
‘With louder shrieks bewails her bitter lot.
‘His princes next, and all the attendant train,
‘The pageants of his court: the men of might,
‘Valiant in war, seven thousand. Nor is left
‘Whoe'er can labour at the burning forge,
‘Tempering the fusil ore, or rear the pile,
‘Or carve the fretted moulding. All the hinds
‘Unskill'd in finer arts, untrain'd to fight,
‘The Babylonian conqueror bids remain;
‘But not for pity: from the deep-sunk well
‘To draw fresh water, with incessant toil
‘To cleave the wood, to lop the spreading vine,
‘To till the soil, is theirs, in Canaan slaves,
‘As we in Babylon. The sign was given,
‘And up the hill we pac'd our destin'd way
‘With slow, and weary step; from whose broad brow,
‘Smitten by general sympathy, we turn'd
‘To cast one lingering look, a last farewell,
‘On lost Jerusalem. The house of God,
‘The temple blaz'd with fire: the horizon shone
‘With sacrilegious flames; and peals of joy
‘Were wafted from the savage clans below,
‘Arm'd with infernal brands. Again we turn,
‘And onward hasten, as with eager step
‘We fled from dire pollution. Many a hill,
‘And many a stream we pass'd: nor ceas'd the while
‘Our conquerors with opprobrious jeer malign
‘To insult our sacred miseries, and with thongs
‘Of pliant leather, or close-twisted cord,
‘To drive us on reluctant. Bow'd with age,
‘Or worn with toil, and sorrow, many fell
‘All lifeless on the ground; no friendly hand
‘Perform'd their parting obsequies; but birds
‘Obscene, and ravenous beasts devour'd their bones.
‘The rest, less happy fugitives, the gates
‘Of Babylon receiv'd. What happen'd since
‘From Gobryas thou hast heard, no common tale,
‘A tale at once of wonder, and of woe.’
‘Commands, that thro the eastern gate be led
‘The tribes of vanquish'd Solyma, who fill
‘The winding vale, a piteous spectacle,
‘Men, women, helpless infants, hoary seers,
40
‘In silent grief the captive monarch stands,
‘Abash'd. His faithful consort by his side
‘With louder shrieks bewails her bitter lot.
‘His princes next, and all the attendant train,
‘The pageants of his court: the men of might,
‘Valiant in war, seven thousand. Nor is left
‘Whoe'er can labour at the burning forge,
‘Tempering the fusil ore, or rear the pile,
‘Or carve the fretted moulding. All the hinds
‘Unskill'd in finer arts, untrain'd to fight,
‘The Babylonian conqueror bids remain;
‘But not for pity: from the deep-sunk well
‘To draw fresh water, with incessant toil
‘To cleave the wood, to lop the spreading vine,
‘To till the soil, is theirs, in Canaan slaves,
41
‘And up the hill we pac'd our destin'd way
‘With slow, and weary step; from whose broad brow,
‘Smitten by general sympathy, we turn'd
‘To cast one lingering look, a last farewell,
‘On lost Jerusalem. The house of God,
‘The temple blaz'd with fire: the horizon shone
‘With sacrilegious flames; and peals of joy
‘Were wafted from the savage clans below,
‘Arm'd with infernal brands. Again we turn,
‘And onward hasten, as with eager step
‘We fled from dire pollution. Many a hill,
‘And many a stream we pass'd: nor ceas'd the while
‘Our conquerors with opprobrious jeer malign
‘To insult our sacred miseries, and with thongs
‘Of pliant leather, or close-twisted cord,
42
‘Or worn with toil, and sorrow, many fell
‘All lifeless on the ground; no friendly hand
‘Perform'd their parting obsequies; but birds
‘Obscene, and ravenous beasts devour'd their bones.
‘The rest, less happy fugitives, the gates
‘Of Babylon receiv'd. What happen'd since
‘From Gobryas thou hast heard, no common tale,
‘A tale at once of wonder, and of woe.’
Thus Daniel spake, and once again implor'd
That Judah might return; then ceas'd; when thus
Spake Cyrus, wiping from his eye a tear,
And bending graceful from his golden throne.
That Judah might return; then ceas'd; when thus
Spake Cyrus, wiping from his eye a tear,
And bending graceful from his golden throne.
‘Go, and your God be with you; nor delay
‘To build another temple. In that house
‘Again shall all those ornaments be rang'd,
‘Which, as ye say, Nebassar hither brought.
‘To thee, O Daniel, shall be given whate'er
‘Remains of brass, of silver, or of gold,
‘In weight, and number. To thy care, and these
‘Who wait attendant, heroes, as I guess,
‘Of no mean race, full gladly I consign
‘This glorious enterprise. Among your tribes
‘If any dare refuse obedience due,
‘Your own laws judge him. Go; and when ye build
‘A shrine on Sion's hill, and call your God
‘With morning prayer, and evening sacrifice,
‘To smile on Israel's race, remember me.’
‘To build another temple. In that house
‘Again shall all those ornaments be rang'd,
43
‘To thee, O Daniel, shall be given whate'er
‘Remains of brass, of silver, or of gold,
‘In weight, and number. To thy care, and these
‘Who wait attendant, heroes, as I guess,
‘Of no mean race, full gladly I consign
‘This glorious enterprise. Among your tribes
‘If any dare refuse obedience due,
‘Your own laws judge him. Go; and when ye build
‘A shrine on Sion's hill, and call your God
‘With morning prayer, and evening sacrifice,
‘To smile on Israel's race, remember me.’
END OF THE FOURTH BOOK.
| Judah restored | |