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101

III. PART THE THIRD.

EARTH.


102

“And it shall come to pass in that day, that the Prophets shall be ashamed every one of his vision, when he hath prophesied: neither shall they wear a rough garment to deceive:

But he shall say, I am no prophet, I am an husbandman: for man taught me to keep cattle from my youth.

And one shall say unto him, What are these wounds in thine hands? then he shall answer, Those with which I was wounded in the House of my Friends.

Awake, O Sword, against my Shepherd, and against the man that is my fellow, saith the Lord of Hosts: smite the Shepherd and the Sheep shall be scattered: and I will turn mine hand upon the little ones.”

Zechariah xiii. 4—7.


103

VII. CALVARY.

Earth's phantasm melted, and the Choir have ended
Their hymn. Lo, gradually, to pass not soon,
Of Calvary the Vision now is blended.—
Day's second dawn on that portentous noon
Brake west of the equator. Tardily
It brake; and like the blank and quenched Moon,
The reappearing Sun on Calvary
Rose fearful-pale. Son of the golden Morn,
Thee once a mortal voice controled on high—
Now by no mortal voice thy beams were shorn!
—Or did some planetary orb, elanced
By the great shock wherewith the worlds were torn
In the Creator's anguish, that entranced
Them all in one astonishment intense,
From its due sphere, a wreck, down rush—advanced

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Before thy broad and bright circumference—
And blot thee from between the Heaven and Earth?
Or wept thy Seraph so for Man's offence,
And for the Passion whereto it gave birth,
The copious flood did quell thy glowing light?
The Heavens are girt as with a swaddling girth,
Gathered the clouds into a pall outright:—
And, out upon thy melancholy weed!
Sackcloth of hair, more black than blackest night.
—Now the mysterious Hour, with tender heed,
That sombre swathe moves from thy radiant brow:
Heaven dares again to look upon that deed:
The Seraph's angel-aspect brightens now:
The Stars assert their courses and their orders;
And reinvested with thy beams art thou.
—O Calvary! how blessed are thy borders,
More holy than God's sanctuary mount,
Of whose high praise be Angels the recorders;
But grateful Man thy praises shall recount,
There Jesus is adored, but here He died!
O Calvary! that Rood is as a fount
Whence with a sanguine stream thou art supplied,
Yet healing as Bethesda. Calvary!
The Earthquake that did rock thee doth subside;
Thy sacred Rood, and they who stand thereby,
Dim and less dim in the returning light,
Appear, and on thy summit paint the sky.

105

—There stood the Virgin-Mother, by the might
Of grief subdued, yet not despairing. Her
His words supported in her piteous plight,
With Faith and Hope and Memory, that did stir
The settling sorrow at her heart, and keep
Her spirit buoyant; while the Comforter
Brooded with halcyon wing o'er the calmed deep
Of her bereaved soul. In after-time,
Shall erring man, in superstition's sleep,
And dream and vision, her exalt sublime
Above the circle of the eternal sky,
Mother of God, and Empress of heaven's clime,
Enthroned in most divine regality,
The Moon beneath her feet, and on her head
A starry crown:—oh, fond Idolatry!
So among the nations shall her name be spread,
Because of him, the Crucified, her Son,
The Son of God, the First-fruit of the Dead,
The Self-Existent and Eternal One.
Now on that sacrificial Altar there,
He dies! And she, sustained on faithful John,
Dissolves, all tears. A mournful group is near.
Mary her Sister, and the Magdalene,
In anguish, on the hill recumbent here,
Pour out their souls. Salome stands serene,
And rolls her pale eyes toward pale heaven, as they,
In their fine phrensy rapt above, have seen

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The ready vengeance winged upon its way,
And watched it in an attitude sublime
Of concentrate impatience at delay,
That looked like patience waiting for the time
That should seem good to God, resigned and still,
To punish signally that signal crime.
—Afar, the soldier band about the hill
Hover in silence; so the ghostly gloom
And earthquake them had quailed, they had no will,
As wont, for boisterous mirth, to quell the doom
Had else too much depressed the present mind.
The very Steeds whereon they rest assume
A supernatural hush: the stirless wind
Moves not their flowing manes; neither toss they
Their arched necks, nor, in their haughty kind,
Champ into foam the bit, nor snort, nor neigh,
Nor paw nor overturn the troubled earth;
Subdued by sacred horrour or dismay.
—Nor that Centurion from his saddle girth
Had lifted his adoring brow, which there
He bent, when Jesus, in the depth and dearth
Of that mysterious hour, into the ear
Of his great Father in the heaven above
Pealed out his mighty voice, beyond the sphere,
And into the hands of the Paternal Love
His spirit did commend. Thereat the breast
The people smite, and one by one slow move,

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Pensive, on their returning way, opprest
With fear and grief, mystery and miracle.
But that Centurion felt his soul possest,
And his heart pregnant with a holy spell,
Stiffening his sinews, boiling in his blood,
And spake inspired as from an oracle—
“This was a righteous man, the Son of God!”
—From that amazement scarce recovered, lo,
A Man,—in vesture white as snow untrod,
And whose pale forehead did with glory glow,—
Inquired of whom he spake, and why such style
Divine attributed to mortal?—“Know,
I am a stranger here, and long erewhile,
From a far land where Joy and Peace abide,
And Love and Beauty and Perfection smile,
I travelled forth, and, many a region wide
O'erpast, entered at length your fertile clime.
—Proceeding through your City deified,
I paused before the Temple's front sublime,
Till, wearied with its grandeur, and the way,
I stretched me in the porch, and slept a time;
Aroused anon by sounds of some dismay,
And shaking of the ground. When lo, thick night,
At noon day, had o'erspread the earth, and lay
Like chains on man and beast. Fear and affright
Seize all; and, terribly, noise as of floods
Appals them; and the imaginative might

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Of the creative Eye on blackness broods:
Sad visions of majestick mien pass by,
With heavy countenance, and chill men's bloods;
And where they fall in terrour there they lie,
Shut up in prison without iron bars,
Bound in one chain of gloom and jeopardy.
And now a universal shriek, the stars
Might hear, assails the darkness dumb; and forth
The priesthood rush in horrour from their prayers,
And to the East and West and South and North,
Cry out aloud in phrenzy—It is rent,
The Veil that veiled the Holiest! Hear, O Earth!
Answer, thou Heaven! This heard, like horrour went
Through all the multitude. I felt my way
In gloom, and found, as cleared the element,
And the slow light redawned, my passage lay
Toward this defended hill. Now tell me, ye,
The meaning of these things, if that ye may,
And why these wonders in this Country be,
And at this time? And who is He ye call
The Son of God? and what his History?”
—Whom the Centurion answered thus—“Sir, all
That thou wouldst know thou'lt better learn of her
Who worships by yon centre Cross. A thrall
To duty, not uncourteous, I transfer
A question I in truth am little skilled
To satisfy, who in conjecture err.”

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—The Mother-Maid had heard him, and she stilled
Her beating heart, pleased with his lofty port,
Her frame with venerative awe that thrilled.
Straight she arose, and, without further court,
With amiable readiness, thus she
Meekly addressed the stranger, in such sort
As moved him with its magnanimity.
—“Behold him there—of whom ye speak—my Son,
But of no earthly Sire. Look, Sir, where he,
Between transgressors, who transgression none
E'er knew, whose mouth had never uttered guile,
Whose thoughts were only fixed on God alone,
Hath died the accursed death.”—A glorious smile
Illumed that stranger's visage, broad and bright;
It broadened and it brightened all the while
She spake. His visage did enlarge, his height
Dilate, and of his robe the bosom folding
Heaved with strange ecstasy, and a wild light
Played in his eye, and made him radiant. Holding
That transport in, he courteously desired,
(His attitude to humbler manner moulding,)
The History at large. “Thou hast required,”
She answered, “a task difficult to me
Whom grief scarce suffers speech, whereof inspired
And God-imparted eloquence may be
Capable only. But it doth behove,
That, at all times and in all places, we

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Should testify of Him, and of the love,
Even to the death, he bare for us—for all—
For whom he left the adoring heavens above,
His Father's glory, to become a thrall,
And die a victim, an accursed death.
'Twere sweet, methinks, that I should now recall
His gracious acts—even here—the Cross beneath
Whereon his blessed body doth depend.
Stranger, believe my Witness. Let my breath
Be lavish in his praises. Thou attend:
And, wheresoever thou mayst travel hence,
Report my words, to save and to defend
The people of thy sojourn, and dispense
The bread of life I give among all lands.”
—She paused to gather heart; then did commence
Her tale in gentleness. Her quiet hands
Clasped on her bosom, and her aspect bent;
In meekness and in modesty she stands:
The while the Stranger listens all attent.

VIII. THE VIRGIN'S NARRATIVE.

“A Maid of regal David's sacred line,
Whom God appointed to be Israel's King,
Psalmist and prophet, of whose seed divine

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Messiah was to come—the holy Thing—
The blessed Branch of Jesse's hallowed Stem—
Who should redemption to all nations bring—
I, little weening, O Jerusalem!
That of my womb the Saviour of mankind,
Of bard and seer the Promise and the Theme,
Should be conceived and born,—with humble mind,
Espoused a righteous, just and aged man
By pure affection piously inclined—
His state though lowly, Joseph's lineage ran
Direct from David's royal house. As yet
Our festal rite of marriage unbegan;
Lo, from high heaven where his throne is set,
Even in Jehovah's presence, sent by God,
Me Gabriel with salutation met.
Down came the Angel from his bright abode
To me, and cried, “Hail, highly-favoured, hail!
The Lord upon thee hath his grace bestowed,—
Blessed of women thou. Let Faith prevail:
Fear not, O Mary. Favour hast thou won
With the Most High; nor shall his promise fail.
Behold, thou shalt conceive, and bear a Son;
Jesus his name, and mighty shall he be,
The sole-begotten of the Highest One.
The Power of the Highest o'ershadowed me.—
It came—Messiah! of thy blessed birth
The timeous marvel and old mystery—

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Incarnate, uncreate, divine; of Earth,
And all that it inherits, Maker great;
An Infant at a mortal breast, with dearth
Of mere accommodation all unmeet!
—In swaddling clothes I swathed the heavenly Child;
A Stable was his chamber incomplete,
A Manger all his couch. 'Twas winter wild;
The Shepherds in the field kept watch by night,
Their flocks beneath the moon slept reconciled,
Themselves like moonbeams, all so pearly white,
And shining in the silver sheen. Anon,
The Angel of the Lord, in stronger light,
Glowed rainbowlike about them and upon,
And, as they trembled, thus their timid fear
Admonished, while abroad his glory shone:
“Fear not; for, lo, good tidings I do bear,
Great joy that shall to every people be,
For on this day, the whitest in the year,
In David's City, is born unto ye
A Saviour who is Christ the Lord.” Then nigh
The heavenly host 'gan singing suddenly
Their choral hymn—“Glory to God on high,
Peace upon Earth, and Goodwill toward Men.”
—So vanished that celestial company.
The wondering Shepherds rose with haste, and, when
They found the Babe rejoiced and praised the Lord,
And spread abroad the fame thereof. And then,

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Came Sages from the Orient to accord
Homage and tribute to the Child divine,
For they had studied in the written Word,
And in the East beheld his Star,..a sign
Miraculous that travelled in mid-air,
And still continued on their path to shine,
A glorious guide, until it came to where
The incarnate God was lodged, the holy Child.
Him worshipped they, and gifts presented there—
Gold, frankincense and myrrh.—Calm and not wild,
Yet lofty were my inmost thoughts of him
Who slept, divine with human reconciled,
On my poor knee. Methought, the Seraphim
Above him unseen ministry did keep,
And he was guarded by the Cherubim;
His Omnipresence, on his human sleep
Shed overshadowing circling energy—
For very joy it was my wont to weep!
—And then I thought upon the prophecy
Of Simeon, aged priest. Devout, sincere,
For Israel's consolation waited he.
To him it was revealed that he should ne'er
See death, 'till he had seen the very Christ.
Led by the Spirit to the Temple, where
Our pious offering we had sacrificed,
And were the Child presenting to the Lord,
He took the holy Babe, so dearly prized;

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He raised his eyes to heaven, and did accord
Praise unto God, and blessings upon us;
Yet said, that through my soul should pierce a sword.
—Lo, it hath pierced, and I am smitten thus!
But in my Son rejoiced I—yet rejoice—
Fragrant his life, his death was odorous,
Though suffering; but to suffer was his choice;
And, like a pleasant spice, though crushed and bruised,
Stern Sorrow, that not seldom but destroys,
The sweetness of his soul but more effused.
—The grace of Heaven was on the Child, like dew;
In stature, and in wisdom self-educed,
Mighty in spirit he increased, and grew
With God and Man in favour and esteem.
—And when twelve springs have graced his youth anew,
We go together to Jerusalem,
And solemnize the Passover's great days
Of Festival, and there accomplish them;
Then toward home we journey; he delays.
Him did his own high purposes detain!
Thrice, eve and morn, we sought in all the ways,
With sorrow him we loved we sought in vain;
Then in the Temple found him, sitting there
Amidst the Doctors, in debate of pain
And elevated argument severe.
He searched their hearts with questions far above
His years, and charmed them with his answers clear,

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Apt as the serpent, gentle as the dove.
Thus wore his wonderous youth. His words and deeds
I treasured in my heart with more than love.
—Now from the Wilderness a Voice proceeds,
Aloud the Herald of Messiah cried,
“Repent. Prepare the way.” All Judah heeds,
Jerusalem and Jordan. And they hied
To be baptized, their sins acknowledging.
With water he baptized by Jordan's side;
And all the while bare record, witnessing
Of One far mightier, after him arriving,
Who with the Spirit and with fire should bring
A holier baptism—life and glory giving.
—Behold, the Mightier came;—From human hand
Requires the lymphid rite the Ever-Living.
The sempiternal gates of heaven expand;
The clouds are rolled apart, and from on high,
In vision like a dove serene and bland,
The Spirit of the Lord descendeth nigh,
And lighteth on the Christ;—the while a Voice
Doth call from midst the region of the sky,
“Behold my Son, in whom I well-rejoice!”
—And now, the Tempter, who in Paradise
Beguiled the Woman to a fatal choice,
Suggestions in the Desart did devise,
To crush the Seed foredoomed his head to bruise;
Defeated soon in all his subtleties.—

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—Forth went the Victor, skilful what to choose,
And what reject, upon his ministry,
Preaching Repentance, and the glorious news
Of Pardon and Redemption full and free,
Of Faith, Light, Life and Love, and Hope and Truth,
Enduring Joy and Immortality.
—Power went with Him. The Word he spake could soothe
The wounded soul, and cure the sick of heart;
And heal the bite of sorrow's rabid tooth.
Power went with Him:..high Power to impart
Ears to the deaf and Eyes unto the blind.
Pale Malady obeyed his potent art,
And ceased at his rebuke. Fever resigned
Its sway, and Palsy and the Aches and Pains,
The heritage of flesh. From the unclean Mind
The exorcised Demon loosed his chains,
And fled the captive. Elements! All ye
Confess your Maker, you his might constrains—
Thou, Water, in his presence blushed; and thee,
With all thy multitude of waves; thee, Wind,
With all thy brotherhood of tempests;—He
Commanded, and the surge to him inclined
His tumult, and the storm his roaring stilled,
And all was tranquil as a pious mind.
Yea, while the midnight Sea was raging wild,
He walked the foaming billows with calm tread;
He to the Father gave the dying Child,

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And to the widowed Mother from the Dead
Restored her only Son. The insatiate Grave
Her victim did surrender at his dread
And awful bidding, who came down to save.
—My soul is joyous,..a mysterious joy
Broods on my sorrowing soul, as on the wave
The placid halcyon. Him shall Death destroy
Who vanquished Death? Corruption shall He see
Who from the Sepulchre, whose gorge to cloy
All flesh shall not suffice, its thrall did free
And ravished its due prey? His Triumph blends
With mine, and rushes on my memory,
And like a heavenly vision it descends.
—Shout, Daughter of Jerusalem..behold
Thy King. Salvation on his way attends,
As promised to thee in the days of old.
He cometh to thee riding on an Ass,
Whose natural back man never yet controled,
A palfrey unprofaned. Let ye him pass
In meekness, O ye people; ye who throng
About him, little do ye deem, alas,
What doom awaits your King. On him along;
In an innumerable multitude,
As in procession, ye attend with song,
And praises and hosannahs, and have strewed
Your garments in his way, and branches green,
As in a princely Conqueror's ye would.

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He on whose eyes sweet light revealed hath been,
He on whose ears the mysteries of sound,
The lame who now can walk, he who hath seen
The gate of death, and he whom death hath bound,
Rejoice aloud—a choral Company.
And had they not, the stones, from out the ground,
Witness of Him whom Patriarchs longed to see
Had borne; such was the inspiration then,
The rapture and possession. And lo, He
Went like a warrior on his way, while men
Cowered as before a god, and from the Fane,
The Temple of his Father, made a den
Of thieves by them, cast out with high disdain
The barterers in gold, and overthrew
The seats of them who made a mart for gain
The House of hallowed Prayer. And with the dew
Of his celestial tears,—Jerusalem!
Jerusalem! whose sanguinary hue
Is with the blood of Prophets, and all them
Sent to thee from thy loving God, to save
Or to restore thy sacred diadem,—
Even like the widowed o'er a lover's grave,
Thy desolation he bewept. Yea, thine,
Whose children, under his broad wing's wide wave,
He willingly had gathered, with divine
Affection, as a hen her tender brood;
But thou wouldst not! O thou incarnadine!

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—Thou who hast slain the Servants of thy God!
Wo to thy children! But thrice wo to ye,
Ye Husbandmen—for with an iron rod,
Ye shall be broken,..nay, destroyed shall be,
Who of his vineyard have the fruit denied
Unto the Planter, and thus utterly
Despised his Messengers,..nay, have defied
His Son beloved, and slain the proper Heir,
That the inheritance ye might divide!
Wo to ye, Hypocrites! ye insincere—
Who shut the gates of heaven against mankind,
And yet yourselves will never enter there—
Wo to ye, Hypocrites! Your hearts are blind;
The houses of the widows ye devour,
And make long prayers, devotion ill-designed.
The matters of the Law of gravest power
Omit ye;—Judgement—Mercy—Faith: and dole
The petty tithe of your external dower:
Not those omit,—nor these; but pay the whole!
As righteous men ye do without appear,
Within iniquity usurps the soul:
Ye are even like a whited Sepulchre,
Beautiful outward, hiding dead men's bones,
Uncleanness and corruption, every where.
Ye build the tombs of prophets, ye the Sons
Of Sires who slew the prophets and the seers,
And deem disclaimer of the deed atones

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For the hereditary shame. Ye heirs
Of the unhallowed, fill their measure up!
Ye garnishers of Martyrs' Sepulchres!
O! ye have filled even to the brim the cup—
And Vengeance is on you for all the blood
By Earth absorbed, and He in heaven shall stoop,
And pour the phial of his wrath withstood,
On you, and on your land, and generation!
—I speak his words who suffereth on the Rood.
Thus for themselves their children and their nation
They have filled the measure of their Fathers' guilt!
They bought his blood..'twas shed for man's salvation!
Contemptuously his sacred blood they split,
They crowned him with the diadem of thorn,
Who is the Monarch of the World he built.
They clad him with the purple robe of scorn.
They smote him, they blindfolded him; and straight
They burthened him, forsaken and forlorn.
Distended—oh! immitigable hate!—
Raised like the Serpent in the desart wide,
His human limbs divine by their own weight
Thus agonized—behold the Crucified!”

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IX. THE DESCENT FROM THE CROSS.

Rapt by the ardent strain that did conclude
The Narrative of Mary, there, as stilled
By some informing god, the stranger stood.
Then came from him a voice—“It is fulfilled!”
But he was not; none saw which way he went,
Evanished utterly: then all were thrilled.
Deep awe and trembling were with wonder blent,
And silence; but not long endured that pause,
Else ancient song had lacked accomplishment.
—It is the hallowed eve, when man withdraws
To preparation for the holier morrow.
High Day of Sabbath, thy thrice-sacred laws
Were violated,—oh, the sin and sorrow!—
If crucifixion had with death profaned
The dawn, that wont from life its life to borrow.
O' th' two the legs they brake; but were restrained
When him they found already dead: yet one
Pierced with a spear his side, as preordained,
Whence water flowed with blood. So all was done,
As it is written.—Now in her shadowy stole,
The solemn Eve scarfed the declining Sun;

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His second setting on this day of dole;
And from the Cross died his departing ray,
Whereon his Maker yielded up his soul.
—Whose tardy visit wends this upward way?
No tardy visit his. His heart was here,
His ardent heart, that panted for the day
Of God's dominion and salvation dear;
A good man and a just, but rich and high,
Arimathean Joseph, a sincere
Disciple of the Christ, though secretly,
From terrour of the Jews. With leave procured
From Pilate, he approaches to apply
Due honours to the dead, who shame endured,
And for the wicked with the wicked died,
And with the rich his sepulchre assured.
With him was Nicodemus, at his side
Meekly attendant; he who came by night
Of Jesus to enquire, and was supplied
With wisdom, taught from God, and by the might
Of spirit of diviner excellence
Eke only apprehensible aright.
—Mysterious lore! that thou must recommence
Life and existence, and be born anew;
Born both of water and of spirit, whence
Spirit comes only, as flesh must flesh ensue:
And where it lists the wind shall blow, whose sound
Thou hearest, but knowst not—none ever knew—

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Whence cometh it, or whither it is bound:
And no man hath ascended into heaven,
But he who thence came down, and bore the wound,
And perished, that the World might be forgiven,
The Son of Man in heaven who dwells for aye!
—These, in the awe of that most sacred Even,
Like brothers on one mournful embassy,
Came carrying each his tribute to the Dead,
Linen and spice, devout and lovingly.
—Now from the Rood, with melancholy dread,
The sacred temple of his body they
Remove, from which the God had vanished.
With filial care, solicitude, and yea,
With trembling veneration, from that height
They bore it down, all lifeless as it lay.
Then wept the Virgin at the woful rite,
Her heart was broken as with a fresh blow,
The floods o'erflowed, and overwhelmed her quite.
She looked up in his holy aspect, lo,
As men in shipwreck unto heaven uplook,
And spread abroad her hands, and watched him so;
The while the Magdalen, without rebuke,
Knelt and received the Saviour's wounded feet,
And veiled them with the vest;—the while John took
His master on his bosom, with complete
Affection, bore the burthen of his corse
As it descended in its winding-sheet.

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Such her excess of sorrow, and its force,
In sorrow like her's if there may be excess,
And more than madness might beget remorse.
Oh, mother-maid! who may thy loss express?
What mother ever had a son like thine?
Than common mothers, oh, canst thou mourn less?
—Lo, they have now his human limbs supine,
Wrapt in the linen mingled with the balm,
And gazed their last upon the most divine.
How beautiful in death is he! how calm
That cold chaste countenance, that seems to smile
Even yet! that frame that flourished like the palm,
In stature and in stateliness, a pile
Of exquisite proportion, symmetry,
And grace, how lovely! Those bland lips, whence guile
Was alien, yet are parted lovelily,
As eloquence still lingered mutely there;
And still that forehead is of dignity!
The brave are beautiful in death,..and here
Lies on his field of fame the Victor-Chief—
And here shall also be his sepulchre.
Bright—everlasting—be thy fame; though brief
Thy glorious life, thou Warrior of our Faith,
Hero of Peace, and Champion of Belief!
—There was a garden on that hill of death,
Where, in a rock, was newly hewn a tomb,
Whose concave never man had slept beneath.

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There, shrouded and embalmed in tender gloom,
Shall rest the long Desire of every land,
The Hope of nations, and the Lord of doom.
Sadly and slowly, from their fatal stand,
(Their pupil arms the Rabbi's faithful bier,)
Thither they bore him, and with gentle hand,
Composed his perfect limbs, and laid him there,
In most magnificent simplicity—
—All silent—save the toning of a tear,
The silver cadence of a veiled sigh.

X. ŒLINA.

Halcyon and hallowed be the haunt, oh Son
Of Man; hallowed and halcyon be the haunt
Of thy repose serene, heroick One!

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—Above the grotto in the garden, chaunt,
Oh Peace! thy pleasant song—a plaintive lay,
Of tone so fine it silence may not daunt.
A perfect man, he walked in thy pure way,
In Wisdom's pensive paths he took delight,
And his Benevolence was like the day.
—And who art thou who pinest in the blight
Of highest hope, and at the iniquity
Of Fortune, murmurest to the silent night?
Art thou more pious or more just than he?
More skilful to instruct or to acquire?
More beautiful and brave? more fair and free?
Holier of soul, and purer of desire?
Ampler in fancy, reason more complete,
To touch the human chords of the heart's lyre?
—If thou art good and great, most good and great
Was he who lieth here within the rock,
A perfect man;—and art thou perfect yet?
Hence! with thy monstrous vanity..nor shock
The modesty of death. He, without stain,
Was hated, hunted; made a mark and mock;
Tempted, despised, beset, insulted, slain;
Born to privation, and in suffering bred,
In ignominy lived, and died in pain.
—Homeless and fatherless, and ill-bested;
Nests have the birds of air, and foxes holes,
He had not where to lay his weary head.

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He had no comeliness to charm men's souls,
In him they saw no beauty to desire,
No grace that wins, no virtue that controls.
Scorned and rejected;..in affliction's fire,
Proved meritorious, greatest, bravest, best;
A man of sorrows, manifold and dire.
He opened not his mouth when most opprest,
From prison and from judgement, like a lamb
Led to the slaughter guiltless, yet distrest.
—What is thy petty sorrow or thy shame?
Thy merit spurned? thy passion or thy pain?
That thou shouldst wring thy hands, lament, exclaim.
What is thy woe to his?—did he complain?
Dumb as a sheep before her shearers he!
Why murmurest thou? be patient, thou profane!
—Wouldst thou have length of days, that thou mayst be
Wiser and better? Older far are some
In mind than most in years:—Go, wed to thee
Wisdom and goodness in thy youth and bloom,
And give the green leaf on the tree to God,
The yellow and the withered to the tomb.
—In his sweet prime and vigour, on the road
Of life he was surprised, and rapt away:
Few were the days the Son of Man abode.
He did his work, he never lost a day;
His life is measured by his glory now,
And that shall never perish nor decay.

128

—Virtue in him was deified, which thou
Canst only raise to manlier energy,
And make humanity a grander show.
For thou of earth art earthly, clings to thee
Change and corruption; thou art of the flesh
Fleshly, and born of an humanity
Whose manhood once declined into the mesh,
Nor from its fatal lapse recovered yet,
Hath to its proper stature grown afresh.
In him the Eternal hath his Image set.
As an ensample unto human kind,
Of the Idea, thus impersonate,
Wherein, when he creation's work designed
In archetypal vision, lordly Man
Was preconceived by his all-plastick mind.
—God said—“Let there be Light!” And Light began
His being; and glad Wisdom from on high,
Down-wafted with celestial airs, swift ran,
And o'er the dædal Orb, with ecstasy,
Of Beauty, her twin-sister, cast the zone,
Full of attractions, love and harmony;
To make the dwelling place of Man a throne,
A palace of the Soul, a glorious shrine;
But for the Sons of Nature built alone,
Who, taught by Wisdom, make all things divine;
Charmed by the symbol and the semblance, here,
Of that consummate Beauty, who is thine;

129

That primal Pulchritude, that perfect Fair,
Who in high Heaven delights thee, Mind Supreme?
They bask in her bright presence every-where.
—Within the walks of Eden, by the stream
Of living waters, and within the bower
Of love in Paradise, Man saw the gleam
Of glory in the grass and in the flower,
The azure Heaven, and Woman's heavenly eye,
And fused the day into a happy hour.
—Sad from that temple of felicity,
Sad was thy parting, slow and wandering,
Alien and out-cast Man, new-doomed to die!
Sadder than aught since known of sorrowing
Saddest on earth! pomp for dead monarch hoary,
Sad pomp funereal for a father-king.
—But sadder far than all renowned in story,
Messiah's going-forth in nakedness,
From the bright palace of paternal glory.
Then sorrow was in Heaven. Bright essences
Angelick burning in their sighs, and spirits
Of fire dissolved in liquid tears; by stress
Of wonder, and the pity it inherits,
Their mould seraphick melted into dew;
At the Atonement meant for Man's demerits.
—For Man he from the Courts of Heaven withdrew,
Emptied of deity, become a child;
But, from the humiliation of that view,

130

Celestial hearts a sudden joy beguiled,
Transcending what they then beheld, and bent
On the far end which all things reconciled.
Instead of wailing and a loud lament,
They clothed their joy with song and harmony,
Good-will to Man, by great Messiah sent.
—Over thy Mausoleum thus do we
Hover in grave delight and melancholy,
Oh Son of Man! in pious sympathy—
Pensive, yet not unhappy. Parting slowly,
We linger here; but Faith, serene and pure,
Looks unto Thee, Eternal and most Holy!
Thy Holy One corruption to endure
Thou wilt not suffer, nor his Soul in Hell
To perish, but wilt lead him thence,..secure.
Sleep sweetly in thy unprofaned cell,
Oh, Son of Man! and hallowed be thy slumbers,
And calm..for wisely thou hast done, and well!
—Such was the Song of the Angelick Numbers;
The Hierarchs of Heaven, far in the sky,
And they whom, though on Earth, no Earth incumbers,
And they who have the heroick custody
Of Hell and Chaos; with according chime,
Each in his scale of solemn harmony;
Fit chorus for a theme so sacred and sublime.
 

“The invention of Epitaphs proceeded from the presage or forefeeling of Immortality, implanted in all men naturally, and is referred to the scholars of Linus, the Theban poet, who flourished about the year of the world two thousand seven hundred; who first bewailed this Linus, their master, when he was slain, in doleful verses, then called of him Œlina, afterwards Epitaphia, for that they were first sung at burials, afterwards engraved upon the sepulchres.” Weever's Discourse of Funeral Monuments.