The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince Edited by R. A. Douglas Lithgow |
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THE HOLY LAND.
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 | The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince |  |
242
THE HOLY LAND.
PROLOGUE TO AN UNFINISHED SACRED POEM.
Oh! sad yet sacred land! lorn Palestine!
God's chosen scene of man-redeeming power,
Land of a thousand mysteries divine,
Linked with my own land's worship to this hour
Would it were mine, from worldly thrall unbound,
To press with pilgrim foot thy storied ground!
Muse in thy vales, where solemn beauty reigns,
Watch on thy hills, and wander o'er thy plains;
Feel on my brow thy odorous winds, and taste
Thy scanty waters in the stony waste;
Pitch my rude tent beside thy sacred streams,
And fill my slumbers with exalted dreams;
Explore each spot, with thoughtful reverence due,
Which bard or prophet, saint or Saviour knew;
Catch inspiration from the humblest thing,
And plume my spirit with a holier wing!
God's chosen scene of man-redeeming power,
Land of a thousand mysteries divine,
Linked with my own land's worship to this hour
Would it were mine, from worldly thrall unbound,
To press with pilgrim foot thy storied ground!
Muse in thy vales, where solemn beauty reigns,
Watch on thy hills, and wander o'er thy plains;
Feel on my brow thy odorous winds, and taste
Thy scanty waters in the stony waste;
Pitch my rude tent beside thy sacred streams,
And fill my slumbers with exalted dreams;
Explore each spot, with thoughtful reverence due,
Which bard or prophet, saint or Saviour knew;
Catch inspiration from the humblest thing,
And plume my spirit with a holier wing!
Not such my privilege; albeit I sigh
To look upon thy aspect, ere I die;
Yet even now, at Fancy's wondrous will,
I plant my footsteps on that holy hill,
Gigantic Tabor! round whose lofty crown
Sweep the wide regions of an old renown;
Where Hermon, on whose head the stars diffuse
The healing freshness of unfailing dews,
Tabor's twin sharer of the sun and gale,—
Uplifts his stalwart shoulders from the vale.
To look upon thy aspect, ere I die;
Yet even now, at Fancy's wondrous will,
I plant my footsteps on that holy hill,
Gigantic Tabor! round whose lofty crown
Sweep the wide regions of an old renown;
243
The healing freshness of unfailing dews,
Tabor's twin sharer of the sun and gale,—
Uplifts his stalwart shoulders from the vale.
Here, tuned in pastoral quiet towards the skies,
The field of many fights, Esdraelon lies;
And yonder, towering up in calm disdain,
Majestic Carmel stems the audacious main:
There, with its barren belt of wave-worn steeps,
Blue Galilee in tranquil splendour sleeps,
Whence willowy Jordan, joyous here and free,
Bounds on its journey to a joyless sea.
Lo! in romantic hollow, like a nest,
Secluded Cana's lowly dwellings rest;
And many a rocky haunt, sublime and wild,
And many a fertile landscape undefiled,
Hamlet and ancient town, lone mosque and tower,
And quiet convent shut in cypress bower,
Mix in the mighty theatre, and throng
The heart with feelings all too deep for song;
While, far remote, like white clouds soaring high
In the serener ether of the sky,
The wintry peaks of Lebanon aspire,
Tinged with the glowing kiss of sunset's golden fire.
The field of many fights, Esdraelon lies;
And yonder, towering up in calm disdain,
Majestic Carmel stems the audacious main:
There, with its barren belt of wave-worn steeps,
Blue Galilee in tranquil splendour sleeps,
Whence willowy Jordan, joyous here and free,
Bounds on its journey to a joyless sea.
Lo! in romantic hollow, like a nest,
Secluded Cana's lowly dwellings rest;
And many a rocky haunt, sublime and wild,
And many a fertile landscape undefiled,
Hamlet and ancient town, lone mosque and tower,
And quiet convent shut in cypress bower,
Mix in the mighty theatre, and throng
The heart with feelings all too deep for song;
While, far remote, like white clouds soaring high
In the serener ether of the sky,
The wintry peaks of Lebanon aspire,
Tinged with the glowing kiss of sunset's golden fire.
Again my fancy bears me on;—and lo!
A childless widow, voiceless in her woe,
Smit by the awful vengeance of the Just,
Forsaken Salem sitteth in the dust,
Her beauty faded, and her garments torn,
Her sceptre broken, and her power outworn,—
A lonely spectacle of grief and gloom,
A ruined record of prophetic doom!
A childless widow, voiceless in her woe,
Smit by the awful vengeance of the Just,
Forsaken Salem sitteth in the dust,
Her beauty faded, and her garments torn,
Her sceptre broken, and her power outworn,—
A lonely spectacle of grief and gloom,
A ruined record of prophetic doom!
244
Here, from the Hill of Olives, dark and bold,
The whole sad city is at once unrolled;
Queen of a stony wilderness, she lies
In sombre beauty, looking towards the skies:
Fair to the eye, but silent to the ear,
And solemn to the heart, she seemeth here;
No music ringeth from her towers and domes,
No smoke-wreath springeth from her clustering homes;
No busy crowds, with social life elate,
No chariot-wheels forth issue from her gate;
Still as a region of unpeopled glooms,
Sad as a place of congregated tombs,
A shape bereft of spirit, she appears
Too desolate and dead for either joy or tears!
The whole sad city is at once unrolled;
Queen of a stony wilderness, she lies
In sombre beauty, looking towards the skies:
Fair to the eye, but silent to the ear,
And solemn to the heart, she seemeth here;
No music ringeth from her towers and domes,
No smoke-wreath springeth from her clustering homes;
No busy crowds, with social life elate,
No chariot-wheels forth issue from her gate;
Still as a region of unpeopled glooms,
Sad as a place of congregated tombs,
A shape bereft of spirit, she appears
Too desolate and dead for either joy or tears!
But now some sadder features of the scene
Tempt my lone footsteps to a dim ravine,
Where, scarce illumined by meridian day,
The scanty Kedron makes its weary way.
Behold Gethsemane's impressive shade,
For inward prayer, and heavenward musing made,
Beneath whose roof, of giant boughs inwrought,
The dear Redeemer worshipped, wept, and taught:
Here Judas, reckless of eternal bliss,
Betrayed and sold Him with unholy kiss;
Here His disciples slumbered through the hour
He strove, in silence, with His passion's power,
Shook and adored, and on His trembling knees
Drank the deep draught of sorrow to the lees;
While the o'erflowing sweat-drops of His pain
Bedewed His patient brow with sanguinary stain!
Tempt my lone footsteps to a dim ravine,
Where, scarce illumined by meridian day,
The scanty Kedron makes its weary way.
Behold Gethsemane's impressive shade,
For inward prayer, and heavenward musing made,
Beneath whose roof, of giant boughs inwrought,
The dear Redeemer worshipped, wept, and taught:
Here Judas, reckless of eternal bliss,
Betrayed and sold Him with unholy kiss;
Here His disciples slumbered through the hour
He strove, in silence, with His passion's power,
Shook and adored, and on His trembling knees
Drank the deep draught of sorrow to the lees;
While the o'erflowing sweat-drops of His pain
Bedewed His patient brow with sanguinary stain!
A little farther, and the place of graves,
Where the pent wind in mournful madness raves,
Gloomy Jehoshaphat's funereal vale,
To the rapt spirit tells a fearful tale.
Once from that terrace, Titan-like and high,
The towering Temple clomb the quiet sky;
In mystic silence sprang, and stood alone,
A vast, majestic miracle of stone!
Hail, holy Zion! David's home of pride,
Revered and hallowed o'er the world beside;
Zion, whose echoes answered to the lyre,
Whose cords were kindled with seraphic fire!
Transcendent Minstrel! whose exalted song
Ten thousand brighter ages shall prolong,
What earthly harp may yet compare with thine,
Thou regal heir of Poesy divine!
Triumph and trial, prophecy and praise,
Found mighty utterance in thy living lays:
When peril threatened, and when pain oppressed,
When woe or worship trembled in thy breast,
When God's dread shadow o'er thy spirit came,
When prescient ardour lit thy soul with flame,—
Thy songs, true, tender, terrible, sublime,
Send mighty voices forth to all succeeding time!
[OMITTED]
Where the pent wind in mournful madness raves,
245
To the rapt spirit tells a fearful tale.
Once from that terrace, Titan-like and high,
The towering Temple clomb the quiet sky;
In mystic silence sprang, and stood alone,
A vast, majestic miracle of stone!
Hail, holy Zion! David's home of pride,
Revered and hallowed o'er the world beside;
Zion, whose echoes answered to the lyre,
Whose cords were kindled with seraphic fire!
Transcendent Minstrel! whose exalted song
Ten thousand brighter ages shall prolong,
What earthly harp may yet compare with thine,
Thou regal heir of Poesy divine!
Triumph and trial, prophecy and praise,
Found mighty utterance in thy living lays:
When peril threatened, and when pain oppressed,
When woe or worship trembled in thy breast,
When God's dread shadow o'er thy spirit came,
When prescient ardour lit thy soul with flame,—
Thy songs, true, tender, terrible, sublime,
Send mighty voices forth to all succeeding time!
| The Poetical Works of John Critchley Prince | |