 | Poems |  |
70
ELIJAH FED BY RAVENS.
Sore was the famine throughout all the boundsOf Israel, when Elijah, by command
Of God, journeyed to Cherith's failing brook.
No rain-drops fall, no dew-fraught cloud, at morn,
Or closing eve, creeps slowly up the vale;
The withering herbage dies; among the palms,
The shrivelled leaves send to the summer gale
An Autumn rustle; no sweet songster's lay
Is warbled from the branches; scarce is heard
The rill's faint brawl. The prophet looks around,
And trusts in God, and lays his silvered head
Upon the flowerless bank; serene he sleeps,
Nor wakes till dawning: Then, with hands enclasped,
And heavenward face, and eyelids closed, he prays
To Him who manna on the desart showered,
To Him who from the rock made fountains gush:
71
By sound of wheeling wings, with grateful heart,
He sees the ravens fearless by his side
Alight, and leave the heaven-provided food.
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