Poems, on sacred and other subjects and songs, humorous and sentimental: By the late William Watt. Third edition of the songs only--with additional songs |
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The Infanticide.
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 | Poems, on sacred and other subjects |  |
The Infanticide.
The blazing meteor brilliant shone,
And still the Magi wander'd on
From Persia's mountains, distant far,
Where first they spied the wondrous Star,
O'er hills, through glens and rivers, wending,
Still on their heavenly guide attending;
No toil, no travel do they mind,
Their sole wish, Judah's King to find;
And, inly by the Spirit led,
With joy their longsome way they sped:
The Tigris and Euphrates pass'd,
And parch'd Arabia's desert vast,
They reach the towers of Salem grand,
The pride of all the Holy Land.
And still the Magi wander'd on
From Persia's mountains, distant far,
Where first they spied the wondrous Star,
O'er hills, through glens and rivers, wending,
Still on their heavenly guide attending;
No toil, no travel do they mind,
Their sole wish, Judah's King to find;
And, inly by the Spirit led,
With joy their longsome way they sped:
127
And parch'd Arabia's desert vast,
They reach the towers of Salem grand,
The pride of all the Holy Land.
Their habit strange and errand new
The eye of wonder on them drew;
For, quick, their fame like lightning ran
From city crowd to grave divan,
Till Herod, trembling, hears anon,
And, hearing, dreads a captive throne.
The eye of wonder on them drew;
For, quick, their fame like lightning ran
From city crowd to grave divan,
Till Herod, trembling, hears anon,
And, hearing, dreads a captive throne.
“I'm Judah's king,” the tyrant cries,
“And should one in rebellion rise,
He and his allies soon shall feel
The conq'ring power of Roman steel!
But bring these vagrants, and I'll hear
Why in this city they appear,
And set the whole in wild uproar,
Where peace serenely reign'd before.”
“And should one in rebellion rise,
He and his allies soon shall feel
The conq'ring power of Roman steel!
But bring these vagrants, and I'll hear
Why in this city they appear,
And set the whole in wild uproar,
Where peace serenely reign'd before.”
This said, the Magi straight are sought,
And to the haughty monarch brought,
Who sat in anxious troubled mood,
And o'er the strange report did brood.
Arrived, he stares them with an eye
Of wrath, deep mix'd with jealousy,
While they, unawed by courtly grandeur,
In all the glare of tyrant splendour,
Give answer calm to all required
By Herod, whom suspicion fired;
But each he bound, with strict behest,
When found of whom they were in quest,
The joyful news they back should bring,
That he might go and hail their King.
And to the haughty monarch brought,
Who sat in anxious troubled mood,
And o'er the strange report did brood.
Arrived, he stares them with an eye
Of wrath, deep mix'd with jealousy,
While they, unawed by courtly grandeur,
In all the glare of tyrant splendour,
Give answer calm to all required
By Herod, whom suspicion fired;
But each he bound, with strict behest,
When found of whom they were in quest,
The joyful news they back should bring,
That he might go and hail their King.
Dismiss'd, they onward hie again,
And now the Star illumes the plain;
With vertic beam and brighter flame
It burns o'er humble Bethlehem.
And now the Star illumes the plain;
With vertic beam and brighter flame
It burns o'er humble Bethlehem.
In poverty's most lowly guise
The Infant here, in slumber, lies
Clasp'd in his mother's fond embrace—
Content, though mean her resting place.
The Sages' hearts with joy o'erflow
While prostrated to Him they bow,
And, praising, gifts profuse bestow,
In wonder rapt that Power divine
Should through an infant's weakness shine.
The Infant here, in slumber, lies
Clasp'd in his mother's fond embrace—
Content, though mean her resting place.
128
While prostrated to Him they bow,
And, praising, gifts profuse bestow,
In wonder rapt that Power divine
Should through an infant's weakness shine.
With grateful hearts and tearful eyes,
On warm devotion's wings, arise
The parents' thanks to Jacob's God,
For cheering thus their lone abode
By timely aid, brought from afar,
When trouble seem'd all joy to mar.
On warm devotion's wings, arise
The parents' thanks to Jacob's God,
For cheering thus their lone abode
By timely aid, brought from afar,
When trouble seem'd all joy to mar.
Meanwhile did Herod's bosom burn,
With anxious wish, for the return
Of these sage pilgrims; but in vain,
For them he ne'er should see again:
By vision warn'd, they homeward stray,
To eastern lands, another way.
With anxious wish, for the return
Of these sage pilgrims; but in vain,
For them he ne'er should see again:
By vision warn'd, they homeward stray,
To eastern lands, another way.
An angel, robed in heaven's bright beam,
Instructed Joseph by a dream,
Warning the kind and cautious sire
To fly from Herod's vengeful ire,
And refuge seek in Egypt's clime
Until the due appointed time.
Obedient to the heavenly call,
He flies, to shun the despot's thrall;
By night, by day, through drearest road,
The desert wilderness he trod;
By night's dews chill'd, by day's heat parch'd,
With meek submission, on they march'd,
Till safe arrived in that far land
Where Pharaohs long held sole command.
Instructed Joseph by a dream,
Warning the kind and cautious sire
To fly from Herod's vengeful ire,
And refuge seek in Egypt's clime
Until the due appointed time.
Obedient to the heavenly call,
He flies, to shun the despot's thrall;
By night, by day, through drearest road,
The desert wilderness he trod;
By night's dews chill'd, by day's heat parch'd,
With meek submission, on they march'd,
Till safe arrived in that far land
Where Pharaohs long held sole command.
As from the bursting nitrous cloud
The awful thunder rattles loud;
As volleying Etna's baleful blast
Rolls out in lava-streams at last;
As, from the marshall'd lines of war,
Destruction bursts, with fatal jar;
So wrath, matured in Herod's soul,
Breaks forth, disdaining all control,
And nought can calm his demon-pride
But hell-advised Infanticide.
To execute his dire intent
A secret order out is sent,
Assembling all the sons of blood,
On Bethleh'ms streets to spread the flood
From the pure spring of infant hearts,
Pierced by their poniards, swords, and darts.
The awful thunder rattles loud;
As volleying Etna's baleful blast
Rolls out in lava-streams at last;
As, from the marshall'd lines of war,
Destruction bursts, with fatal jar;
So wrath, matured in Herod's soul,
Breaks forth, disdaining all control,
And nought can calm his demon-pride
But hell-advised Infanticide.
129
A secret order out is sent,
Assembling all the sons of blood,
On Bethleh'ms streets to spread the flood
From the pure spring of infant hearts,
Pierced by their poniards, swords, and darts.
See, the black troop, with hellish frown,
Surrounds the calm but fated town.
What though all robed in pilgrim guise!
Souls base are louring through their eyes!
With weapons arm'd, much joy they'll blight
Before to-morrow's sun gives light.
Surrounds the calm but fated town.
What though all robed in pilgrim guise!
Souls base are louring through their eyes!
With weapons arm'd, much joy they'll blight
Before to-morrow's sun gives light.
The shades of night o'erspread the plain,
Soft slumbers slew the weary swain,
Quit was the lay of evening lark,
The dreary watch-dog ceased to bark,
The stray sheep dropp'd her woeful wail,
The crow did roost in woodland dale,
The sportive youths had left their play,
The saint had sung his vesper lay,
The miser summ'd his golden heap,
The mother lull'd her babe to sleep—
When murder's sable flag was rear'd,
Whereon grim death its crest appear'd,
As up the bolted doors were broke,
And parents—but to weep—awoke.
With sulphrous torches blazing blue
The murd'rers range the village through,
Waving the lamp of hell, to light
Them to the massacre this night.
The father, starting, quakes with fear,
The lights to see, the sound to hear;
The mother swoons, with terror wild,
Her latest grasp laid on her child;
The babe she fondled oft before
Now throbs, and welters in its gore.
From house to house th' assassins fly,
From street to street quick rings the cry
Of groaning sires, distracted mothers—
Of shrieking sisters, wailing brothers—
Till all the woeful village round
In blood and tears is drench'd and drown'd.
Resistance none could fathers make;
No sinew strung, each nerve did shake,
As sailors torpid struck with fear,
When, deeming that no danger's near,
Their vessel founders on the rock,
They stand confounded at the shock.
Soft slumbers slew the weary swain,
Quit was the lay of evening lark,
The dreary watch-dog ceased to bark,
The stray sheep dropp'd her woeful wail,
The crow did roost in woodland dale,
The sportive youths had left their play,
The saint had sung his vesper lay,
The miser summ'd his golden heap,
The mother lull'd her babe to sleep—
When murder's sable flag was rear'd,
Whereon grim death its crest appear'd,
As up the bolted doors were broke,
And parents—but to weep—awoke.
With sulphrous torches blazing blue
The murd'rers range the village through,
Waving the lamp of hell, to light
Them to the massacre this night.
The father, starting, quakes with fear,
The lights to see, the sound to hear;
The mother swoons, with terror wild,
Her latest grasp laid on her child;
The babe she fondled oft before
Now throbs, and welters in its gore.
From house to house th' assassins fly,
From street to street quick rings the cry
Of groaning sires, distracted mothers—
Of shrieking sisters, wailing brothers—
130
In blood and tears is drench'd and drown'd.
Resistance none could fathers make;
No sinew strung, each nerve did shake,
As sailors torpid struck with fear,
When, deeming that no danger's near,
Their vessel founders on the rock,
They stand confounded at the shock.
What alteration sad the sun
Displays, when, through the vapours dun
He darts, with red, effulgent beam,
On hill and vale, and lake and stream!
The sire he left in joyful air
Now sits o'ercome by black despair;
The mother singing to her child,
Now wails with bitter anguish wild;
The rosy infant, smiling once,
Now sleeps in death's eternal trance:
All pleasure's fled, and nought appears
But faces drown'd in grief and tears.
In vain the sympathising friend
His soothing counsel now doth lend;
In vain the sacred man of God
Drops comfort from the holy code;
In vain are nature's bounties spread—
The grieved soul recoils at bread;
For still the wildest wails of woe,
With floods of tears, afresh do flow.
Displays, when, through the vapours dun
He darts, with red, effulgent beam,
On hill and vale, and lake and stream!
The sire he left in joyful air
Now sits o'ercome by black despair;
The mother singing to her child,
Now wails with bitter anguish wild;
The rosy infant, smiling once,
Now sleeps in death's eternal trance:
All pleasure's fled, and nought appears
But faces drown'd in grief and tears.
In vain the sympathising friend
His soothing counsel now doth lend;
In vain the sacred man of God
Drops comfort from the holy code;
In vain are nature's bounties spread—
The grieved soul recoils at bread;
For still the wildest wails of woe,
With floods of tears, afresh do flow.
As mourns the dove, both night and day,
When bears the kite her mate away,
No art revengeful can she try,
But only lives to mourn and cry,
So, 'gainst the cause of this event,
No bow of vengeance can be bent;
The bloody despot rests secure,
If conscience can the deed endure;
Nought can the injured do but mourn,
With throbbing bosoms, sadly torn.
When bears the kite her mate away,
No art revengeful can she try,
But only lives to mourn and cry,
So, 'gainst the cause of this event,
No bow of vengeance can be bent;
The bloody despot rests secure,
If conscience can the deed endure;
Nought can the injured do but mourn,
With throbbing bosoms, sadly torn.
With ceaseless toil the sexton groans,
While lab'ring 'mongst sepulchral stones;
All trench'd the dreary burying ground,
With mould'ring bones bestrew'd all round;
E'en he with rage infuriate burns
To dig the graves for infants' urns.
The carpenter, both day and night,
Toils, while with tears and sweat his sight
Is dimm'd, to answer the demand
For sable coffins through the land.
No bolt of fate was ever shed
Like that which burst o'er Bethleh'm's head.
While lab'ring 'mongst sepulchral stones;
131
With mould'ring bones bestrew'd all round;
E'en he with rage infuriate burns
To dig the graves for infants' urns.
The carpenter, both day and night,
Toils, while with tears and sweat his sight
Is dimm'd, to answer the demand
For sable coffins through the land.
No bolt of fate was ever shed
Like that which burst o'er Bethleh'm's head.
Hour after hour the solemn bier,
With grieved attendants, doth appear;
Incessant sounds the dreary mould,
Immuring corpses stiff and cold;
And none the wond'ring trav'ller meets
But mourners on the roads and streets,
All bathed in tears, in sackcloth clad,
Downcast, heart-broken, wildly sad.
No more the darkness lulls to rest,
To nerve the hind, with toil oppress'd;
No more the cheerful dawn of day
Can chase the gloom of woe away;
No more of love the joyous song
Is heard the greenwood shades among,
Nor mirthful tale, at even-tide,
Around the blazing bright fireside:
But now the mother's weeping seen
At eve, lone, straying o'er the green,
To view her murder'd infants' tomb,
More drear by night's congenial gloom:
Oft sits she on the letter'd stone,
That says, “Sad dame, this is thy own
Dear child!” Here, with an absent eye,
Stern fix'd upon the spacious sky,
She ponders in her mind the joy
Hope proffer'd in her darling boy—
Her boy, now mould'ring in the dust,
A victim to a tyrant's lust.
Nor can her home amend her state,
While sorrow rules the die of fate;
All consolation still she flies,
And mourning lives, and mourning dies.
With grieved attendants, doth appear;
Incessant sounds the dreary mould,
Immuring corpses stiff and cold;
And none the wond'ring trav'ller meets
But mourners on the roads and streets,
All bathed in tears, in sackcloth clad,
Downcast, heart-broken, wildly sad.
No more the darkness lulls to rest,
To nerve the hind, with toil oppress'd;
No more the cheerful dawn of day
Can chase the gloom of woe away;
No more of love the joyous song
Is heard the greenwood shades among,
Nor mirthful tale, at even-tide,
Around the blazing bright fireside:
But now the mother's weeping seen
At eve, lone, straying o'er the green,
To view her murder'd infants' tomb,
More drear by night's congenial gloom:
Oft sits she on the letter'd stone,
That says, “Sad dame, this is thy own
Dear child!” Here, with an absent eye,
Stern fix'd upon the spacious sky,
She ponders in her mind the joy
Hope proffer'd in her darling boy—
Her boy, now mould'ring in the dust,
A victim to a tyrant's lust.
Nor can her home amend her state,
While sorrow rules the die of fate;
All consolation still she flies,
And mourning lives, and mourning dies.
| Poems, on sacred and other subjects | |