Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Oh! might that Muse which taught the Prophet-King,
In days of yore, to wake the ecstatic lyre
For thee, O Salem, move me while I sing;
My mortal lips touch with immortal fire,
And in fit strains the solemn theme inspire!—
It may not be. To such high majesty
Of song, oh! never more shall man aspire;
For she hath fled—(who taught that minstrelsy,
Sublimest Muse!)—hath fled back to her native sky.

100

II

A wanderer from Heaven's seraphic throng,
She came—instructress of God's perfect Will;
Forth from her lips outburst th' immortal song,
Which distance weakens not, nor Time shall still:
Valley to valley answers, hill to hill
Responsive echoes—with the rolling years
Growing, that mighty voice all space shall fill;
Heard latest, when, descending through the spheres,
With multitude of sound, the Lord of Hosts appears.

III

Such strains to hymn, no more to man is given,
Past those bright glories of the Poet's art!
But still (great boon of all-indulgent Heaven)
To ease the burthen of Life's grievous part,
The Muse's spirit in the human heart
(Absorbing its humanity) still dwells;
Strange beauty to man's Being she doth impart,
And, where so much deters, him most impels
To draw th' inspiring draught from Truth's eternal wells.

101

IV

So come, best loved! (thyself enamoured most
Of all things holy, beautiful, and good),
Thou guide and teacher, of whose care I boast,
Come, in thy wisely-meditative mood,
Approach and visit my heart's solitude!
Oh, lift my thoughts from this dull earth below,
Each gross idea from my mind exclude,
And, as I ponder o'er Judæa's woe,
Teach me in all Heaven's works its providence to know.

V

Favoured of Heaven, once Israel's chosen band
Its Laws observed, and all its mercies knew;
Fair spread the Vine by God's own bounteous Hand,
Planted, and reared, and fed with heavenly dew;
Green o'er the branch the clustering foliage grew,
The vigorous stem put forth the tender shoot;
But, when the stately growth was fair to view,
The Lord, in wrath, beheld th' ungenerous fruit,
And from the living soil uptare the thankless root.

102

VI

But first how oft forbore! th' avenging rod
How oft restraining through unnumbered years!
While Israel still defied the living God,
His word despised and mocked his holy Seers;
At first he fed them with the bread of tears,
And ministered a cup of deadly wine;
But when His Son's death-cry smote on His ears,
Then did He break the hedge around His Vine,
And to the Gentile's wrath His pleasant plant resign.

VII

Fair rose the Sun above Judæa's hills,
And all the heights were stained with purple day;
No sound was heard save of the warbling rills,
Or birds which piped their matins from the spray;
And bathed in light the tranquil city lay.
Even as a child which sleeps a happy sleep,
While the fell eagles, hovering o'er their prey,
In eddying circles round its cradle sweep—
So seemed th' unconscious City lapped in slumber deep!

103

VIII

And in the solitude of that sweet hour,
When all the plains, with Morning's tears bedewed,
Smiled peacefully, and Nature's mystic power
Informed with stillness mountain, vale, and wood:
On Olivet alone the Roman stood.
Touched was his soul, as fair beneath outspread
Salem in passive loveliness he viewed;
In silent rapture long his thought he fed
On that bright spectacle—then spake at length, and said:

IX

“Thou glorious City! Though Cæsar's heart be cold—
“(Schooled by severe Philosophy to still
“All passion)—not unmoved doth he behold
“The beauty of thy vale-encircled hill!
“Ah, fear not! He, his mission to fulfil,
“Judæa's factious people shall enthral,
“And bind obedience to Rome's sovran will:
“But, hear it heaven, all-judging Jove I call,
“Never by Cæsar's hand shall yon fair City fall!”

104

X

The lightning of God's Word hath clov'n the heaven,
The thunder of His wrath is muttering low,
And who, when the everlasting vault is riven
And cloud to cloud reflects the livid glow,
Shall ward the bolt of vengeance from the foe?—
Vain man, and impotent, 'tis not for thee
To spare what God has destined to o'erthrow;
Nor, should the Lord revoke His just decree,
Could all thy might achieve Judah's captivity:

XI

Soon should that hand which 'whelmed th' Egyptian's pride,
Fell'd the Philistine, and th' Assyrians slew,
Forth stretching sweep thy vaunted power aside,
And Rome her legionary host should view
Scattered like leaves which roaring tempests strew.
But Salem's doom is fixed—nor thou recoil
From that which Heaven appointeth thee to do;
'Tis thine to fire, to ravage, and despoil:
Be mercy then forgot,—move, Roman, to thy toil.

105

XII

Lo! Darkness reigns—no solitary star
Pierces with feeble ray the horrent gloom;
The watch-fires, gleaming on white tents afar,
Flit, in the gust, like spirits o'er a tomb;
And Night with Silence, childlike, in her womb
Broods above Sion. Hark! a sudden cry
Rends heaven—a marvellous glory doth illume
The flaming firmament, and from the sky
Come shrieks of death and woe, with shouts of victory.

XIII

Behold! the glowing clouds are riv'n asunder,
And backward roll in waves of surging light,
And as the chasm yawns wide, with sound of thunder,
Unearthly warriors, blent in fiercest fight
Round mighty cities, burst upon the sight—
A moment, and 'tis gone; but from below
A cry springs upwards through the gloom of night:
“On every side the warning voices grow,
“Woe to Jerusalem, to all her people woe!”

106

XIV

Look up, sad City! often on thy ears
The woe-prophetic song hath fall'n in vain;
It boots not now to listen—through thy tears,
Lift thy wan eyes and view thy ravaged plain;
Oh, loveliest once! behold with many a stain
How have they spoiled the beauty of thy pride!
Prophetic now no more the woeful strain,
For now, even now, the Gentiles, circling wide,
“Compass thee round, and close thee in on every side.”

XV

But though, without, thou view'st the Legions close,
More fearful sight thine eyes reversed survey:
Murder and Famine (these thy deadliest foes)
Howlthrough thy streets, contending for the prey,
And Pestilence still meets them on the way;
There, melancholy Madness droops alone:
Here, Frenzy prompts th' unnatural hand to slay,
While even the Mother's heart is turned to stone:
And black Despair and Death reign on one common throne.

107

XVI

And all the air echoes discordant yells,
The tyrant's cursing, or the sufferer's shriek;—
But hark! what sound!—a solemn thunder swells
Within the Temple—Angel voices speak!
The multitude look up, blanched every cheek!
A fearful hope lives in each fluttering heart,
‘God comes His vengeance on the foe to wreak.’
Untouched, the glowing gates asunder start,
And, issuing forth with light, a cry—“Let us depart!”

XVII

He (whom the Heaven of Heavens might not contain)
Who dwelt in Sion, hath gone up on high;
Shall heathen gods his Holy House profane?
“Save, save the Temple!”—Lo! unto that cry
Forth leap the flames in fearful mockery;
In one vast blaze they lap the fabric round,
And with fork'd tongues ascend the fiery sky;
All heaven and earth a mighty crash resound,
And dread Jehovah's fane lies level with the ground!

108

XVIII

'Tis done. Where once triumphantly she stood,
Lo! ruined Salem lies, a smouldering heap;
“On us and on our children rest His blood!”
There, by her side, her gore-stained children sleep,
Or, captives, o'er her ashes wail and weep.
But, ever mindful of His own, the Lord
Amidst the faithless knew his faithful sheep,
Revealed in Heaven the starry flaming sword,
And led His chosen forth to spread th' Eternal Word.

XIX

But come thou forth, whose terror-dealing hand
Hath spread this ravage o'er the wasted plain;
How art thou mocked!—the desolating brand,
Kindling the flames which thou might'st not restrain,
Hath balked thee of thy prize and rendered vain
The doubtful pity of thy stoic breast;
Yea! the vast ruins of that mighty fane
(Which Heaven from thy reluctant grasp did wrest)
Thine impotence of will, and not thy power, attest.

109

XX

Go thou to Rome to lead thy glittering show,
Let Pomp and Pageantry thy deeds requite!
Eternal Rome!—Ah! little dost thou know
How brief her Glory and how frail her Might!
The Lord on high hath spoken;—In His sight,
As fade nocturnal visions from the eyes,
Shall all her foes dissolve in endless night;
While, from the dust, Jerusalem shall rise
To flood with holiest Light the new-created skies!