 | Sacred specimens, selected from the early English poets |  |
xi
PROEM.
Θ)ιπατε τω βασιληι, χαμαι πεσε δαιδαλος αυλα,
Ουκετι Φοιβος εχει καλυβαν, ου μαντιδα δαφνην,
Ου παγαν λαλεουσαν, απεσβετο και λαλον υδωρ.
Oracula Vetera. ed. Opsopoei. 1607. p. 49.
Ουκετι Φοιβος εχει καλυβαν, ου μαντιδα δαφνην,
Ου παγαν λαλεουσαν, απεσβετο και λαλον υδωρ.
Oracula Vetera. ed. Opsopoei. 1607. p. 49.
Leave the Æolian Lyre awhile,
And the Song from Chios isle;
In soft Ionian numbers drest,
The Harp the matchless fingers prest,
Of that old man eloquent,
Whose Song made Scio's rocks relent,
And o'er the smooth enamour'd seas,
Hush'd the vext Symplegades.
And the Song from Chios isle;
In soft Ionian numbers drest,
The Harp the matchless fingers prest,
Of that old man eloquent,
Whose Song made Scio's rocks relent,
And o'er the smooth enamour'd seas,
Hush'd the vext Symplegades.
Arcadian Ladon now no more,
Nor starry-crown'd Cyllene hoar,
Nor Alpheus thee detain
Rushing to the enamour'd main.
That Thessalian landscape leave,
Where lingers oft the purple eve
Mid Tempe's cliffs, and woods unshorn,
Till startling wakes the early morn,
What time Olympus' forehead gleams,
To bathe her in Peneus' streams.
Nor starry-crown'd Cyllene hoar,
Nor Alpheus thee detain
Rushing to the enamour'd main.
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Where lingers oft the purple eve
Mid Tempe's cliffs, and woods unshorn,
Till startling wakes the early morn,
What time Olympus' forehead gleams,
To bathe her in Peneus' streams.
That sweet city mourn no more
Native to the Ægean shore,
Where pale Cephisus' fountain weeps
Beneath Colonos' woody steeps,
Where sings the love-lorn nightingale,
Close hid within her leafy veil.
Musæus Hill the song repeats,
It climbs Callirhoe's mossy seats,
How full its liquid music swells
Adown Anchesmus' flowery dells;
The slopes that blue with violets shine,
The grottos hung with ivy-twine
All listen, till the moon-light lay,
By far Ilissus dies away.
Native to the Ægean shore,
Where pale Cephisus' fountain weeps
Beneath Colonos' woody steeps,
Where sings the love-lorn nightingale,
Close hid within her leafy veil.
Musæus Hill the song repeats,
It climbs Callirhoe's mossy seats,
How full its liquid music swells
Adown Anchesmus' flowery dells;
The slopes that blue with violets shine,
The grottos hung with ivy-twine
All listen, till the moon-light lay,
By far Ilissus dies away.
Leave Lyceum's piny steeps,
And grotts where Pan at noon-day sleeps,
O'er Hymettus' flowery side
Let the bee in murmurs glide,
What time the silent evening waits,
To hear unbarr'd heaven's silver gates,
Or when the chariot of the sun,
Up high Olympus hath begun,
To pass the golden-paved way;
Whose fiery coursers breathing day
From their flaming nostrils, beat
Heaven's floor, with far-resounding feet.
Let Cephisus, as of old
Flow through vales in story told,
Leave the painted Stoa vext
With argument of truth perplext,
Where Ilissus rolls his stream;
Or the olive Academe
Held Plato: while the Attic bird,
Mute, or else of song unheard
Listen'd to the wondrous tone,
That the gods came down to own.
And grotts where Pan at noon-day sleeps,
O'er Hymettus' flowery side
Let the bee in murmurs glide,
What time the silent evening waits,
To hear unbarr'd heaven's silver gates,
xiii
Up high Olympus hath begun,
To pass the golden-paved way;
Whose fiery coursers breathing day
From their flaming nostrils, beat
Heaven's floor, with far-resounding feet.
Let Cephisus, as of old
Flow through vales in story told,
Leave the painted Stoa vext
With argument of truth perplext,
Where Ilissus rolls his stream;
Or the olive Academe
Held Plato: while the Attic bird,
Mute, or else of song unheard
Listen'd to the wondrous tone,
That the gods came down to own.
Thee the breath of vernal air
Fresh blowing off some mountain fair,
As that where Boreas erst betray'd
To rape, the fair Athenian maid;
Or when the hues of evening streak
The rocks of Sunium's marble peak;
No more may charm; they shine no more
The crystal springs so lov'd before.
The flowery wreath, the Samian wine
No more in golden flaggons shine;
And they who Hymen's garlands wear
In their dark, and violet hair,
And the maid by graces led
Blushing to the nuptial bed;—
Rather wake a loftier song
Of them in glory perish'd long,
Who o'er Egina's gloomy surge
Their brazen prows in triumph urge;
Till th'Attic towers again be free,
And the twice baffled Persian flee;
Recall the armed shades again
Who walk the Marathonian plain,
Or where the sculptur'd lion frowns,
That the Locrian cliff embrowns;
And Phocis' shaggy rocks in gloom,
Guard the Spartan's silent tomb.
Fresh blowing off some mountain fair,
As that where Boreas erst betray'd
To rape, the fair Athenian maid;
Or when the hues of evening streak
The rocks of Sunium's marble peak;
No more may charm; they shine no more
The crystal springs so lov'd before.
The flowery wreath, the Samian wine
No more in golden flaggons shine;
xiv
In their dark, and violet hair,
And the maid by graces led
Blushing to the nuptial bed;—
Rather wake a loftier song
Of them in glory perish'd long,
Who o'er Egina's gloomy surge
Their brazen prows in triumph urge;
Till th'Attic towers again be free,
And the twice baffled Persian flee;
Recall the armed shades again
Who walk the Marathonian plain,
Or where the sculptur'd lion frowns,
That the Locrian cliff embrowns;
And Phocis' shaggy rocks in gloom,
Guard the Spartan's silent tomb.
How duly when the dove-ey'd Spring
Came her olive-branch to bring,
And the morn her early head
Lifting from off her dewy bed,
With silver Phosphor in her train
Lit up the laughing world again;
Were thy enamour'd footsteps seen,
Reclining by the olive green
Of Porch, or Academe, or where
Softly blew the vernal air,
While the pure Socratic page
In moral truth, and doctrine sage,
Held thee in bright Elysian dreams,
By haunted cliffs, and sacred streams;
Or if before thy raptur'd eyes,
Fair scenes of patriot virtue rise;
Deep awful thoughts, and such as prest,
On Brutus' great, and godlike breast,
Or as some sacred flame enshrin'd,
Illumin'd Cato's dreadless mind.
Came her olive-branch to bring,
And the morn her early head
Lifting from off her dewy bed,
With silver Phosphor in her train
Lit up the laughing world again;
Were thy enamour'd footsteps seen,
Reclining by the olive green
Of Porch, or Academe, or where
Softly blew the vernal air,
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In moral truth, and doctrine sage,
Held thee in bright Elysian dreams,
By haunted cliffs, and sacred streams;
Or if before thy raptur'd eyes,
Fair scenes of patriot virtue rise;
Deep awful thoughts, and such as prest,
On Brutus' great, and godlike breast,
Or as some sacred flame enshrin'd,
Illumin'd Cato's dreadless mind.
Now the Delphic fountain nigh
It's hallow'd drops of poesy;
O'er thy brow with warmth divine
Sprinkles from it's purest shrine.
Above the lov'd Sigæan plain,
Glances thy raptur'd eye again.
What time the fierce Argolic powers,
Smote the Ericthonian towers,
Or where the Euboic billows roar,
And the wild Hercean shore,
All their trophied monument
And Phrygian spoils to pieces rent:
And see! in sudden splendour start,
What of old Ephesian art;
What the Doric chissel gave
Gleaming o'er Colonna's wave!
Live they yet?—has cruel time
Spared the soft Ionian clime?
Alas! a voice, that heard no more,
Has pass'd o'er Paxus' woody shore;
The broken shaft, the mould'ring stone
The ruin'd tomb remain alone,
Where Pierian roses flung,
And the wreaths of summer hung;
The deep inspired Pythoness
Mute leaves her inmost cell's recess;
Heard ye odona's forests groan?
Dark Cirrha's caves return the moan;
The god's descending steps no more,
Resound on Delphi's marble floor,
The haunted roof, the sacred shrine
Return no more a sound divine,
And o'er the pale Piræus' bay,
A voice is heard—“away, away.”
It's hallow'd drops of poesy;
O'er thy brow with warmth divine
Sprinkles from it's purest shrine.
Above the lov'd Sigæan plain,
Glances thy raptur'd eye again.
What time the fierce Argolic powers,
Smote the Ericthonian towers,
Or where the Euboic billows roar,
And the wild Hercean shore,
All their trophied monument
And Phrygian spoils to pieces rent:
And see! in sudden splendour start,
What of old Ephesian art;
What the Doric chissel gave
Gleaming o'er Colonna's wave!
xvi
Spared the soft Ionian clime?
Alas! a voice, that heard no more,
Has pass'd o'er Paxus' woody shore;
The broken shaft, the mould'ring stone
The ruin'd tomb remain alone,
Where Pierian roses flung,
And the wreaths of summer hung;
The deep inspired Pythoness
Mute leaves her inmost cell's recess;
Heard ye odona's forests groan?
Dark Cirrha's caves return the moan;
The god's descending steps no more,
Resound on Delphi's marble floor,
The haunted roof, the sacred shrine
Return no more a sound divine,
And o'er the pale Piræus' bay,
A voice is heard—“away, away.”
Then let the Ionian Harp no more
Resound on Chios' lonely shore,
No more Sicilian strains prolong,
Nor wake again the Lesbian song:
Far on to other realms thy sight
Turn in the golden eastern light;
Where from the snow-fed Æthiop hills,
Her tawny bosom Meroe fills
And dark and huge o'er Triton's wave
The demon-gods have built their grave.
Saw you mid those secret springs,
Where the old Abassin kings
In pleasant Amara, their home,
And mountain-girdled centre, roam?
Where lord of Lybia's yellow sands,
Great Hammon's horned temple stands;
Heard you in granite caverns bound
Old Memnon's harp of morning sound?
Mark the characters unknown
Graven on the desart stone,
That the fathers of the earth
Spake at old creation's birth,
And on the eternal pyramid
Deep in pictur'd symbol hid;
By Prometheus good, and wise,
First read amid the starry skies,
Or as Egyptian tales declare
By fabled Hermes sculptur'd there.
E'er the sage Chaldean Eld
His antique rolls of wisdom held,
Or antientest, the Cufic line
Mark'd the smooth rock with letter'd sign.
Close beneath his sacred veil,
Time hath kept the faithful tale;
Nor the Memphian oracle
In dark shroud profound shall tell;
Till buried deep in days of yore
Nile the worship'd ark restore,
And from out his secret fane
Old Osiris wake again.
Resound on Chios' lonely shore,
No more Sicilian strains prolong,
Nor wake again the Lesbian song:
Far on to other realms thy sight
Turn in the golden eastern light;
Where from the snow-fed Æthiop hills,
Her tawny bosom Meroe fills
xvii
The demon-gods have built their grave.
Saw you mid those secret springs,
Where the old Abassin kings
In pleasant Amara, their home,
And mountain-girdled centre, roam?
Where lord of Lybia's yellow sands,
Great Hammon's horned temple stands;
Heard you in granite caverns bound
Old Memnon's harp of morning sound?
Mark the characters unknown
Graven on the desart stone,
That the fathers of the earth
Spake at old creation's birth,
And on the eternal pyramid
Deep in pictur'd symbol hid;
By Prometheus good, and wise,
First read amid the starry skies,
Or as Egyptian tales declare
By fabled Hermes sculptur'd there.
E'er the sage Chaldean Eld
His antique rolls of wisdom held,
Or antientest, the Cufic line
Mark'd the smooth rock with letter'd sign.
Close beneath his sacred veil,
Time hath kept the faithful tale;
Nor the Memphian oracle
In dark shroud profound shall tell;
xviii
Nile the worship'd ark restore,
And from out his secret fane
Old Osiris wake again.
Onward now thy willing feet,
Press towards Sion's hallow'd seat;
Crossing the Erythrèan main,
Whose ruddy waves were cleft in twain;
When fell along the cumber'd coast
That tawny king, and all his host;
And on Egypt's evil day,
Like “scattered sedge” her warriors lay.
Stay'd was the sistrum's beat; the hum
Of ocean hush'd the wizard drum.
Then the scaled dragon drank
The briny waters e'er he sank,
Wide weltering in the tossing bay,
The huge fishy monster lay;
Till dark, and loud the closing wave,
Rush'd booming o'er his evening grave.
Press towards Sion's hallow'd seat;
Crossing the Erythrèan main,
Whose ruddy waves were cleft in twain;
When fell along the cumber'd coast
That tawny king, and all his host;
And on Egypt's evil day,
Like “scattered sedge” her warriors lay.
Stay'd was the sistrum's beat; the hum
Of ocean hush'd the wizard drum.
Then the scaled dragon drank
The briny waters e'er he sank,
Wide weltering in the tossing bay,
The huge fishy monster lay;
Till dark, and loud the closing wave,
Rush'd booming o'er his evening grave.
Glared the pale sun o'er Israel's foes,
And red the star of Zohiel rose;
Alas! who urged that fated night,
The van of Mizraim's scatter'd might:
Who down old ocean's stormy bed,
His snorting courser onward led,
And ever as he hurried by,
Met the sea-monster's glaring eye;
For him along that beauteous shore,
It's coral banks shall glow no more;
It's painted shells no more inlay
Like sea-flowers strewn, the sunny bay;
Nor o'er the purple waves be seen,
The marble peaks of emerald green.
And red the star of Zohiel rose;
Alas! who urged that fated night,
The van of Mizraim's scatter'd might:
Who down old ocean's stormy bed,
His snorting courser onward led,
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Met the sea-monster's glaring eye;
For him along that beauteous shore,
It's coral banks shall glow no more;
It's painted shells no more inlay
Like sea-flowers strewn, the sunny bay;
Nor o'er the purple waves be seen,
The marble peaks of emerald green.
Now fades the clear crystalline sky;
With golden cressets hung on high,
And one by one along heaven's breast
The stars are dropping in the west:
Or through the wide Hesperian gate,
Walking each in regal state;
And the slope moon her wasted horn,
Stoops before the coming morn.
Let the bright and golden ray,
Light the long sands of Etham's bay;
Where far the accordant voices swell
—‘In exitu de Ægypto Israel:’—
Pass onward where the palm-tree waves
It's umbrage broad o'er Elim's caves;
And lo! where aged Sinai shrouds
His marble head amid the clouds.
Upon his crest, a mountain-grave,
No trees their darkning tresses wave,
But solitary, scath'd, sublime,
He stands amid the wreck of time.
Mountain of death! thou seest the Lord
E'en now unsheathe th'avenging sword;
Beneath his foot of adamant,
Thy rocks are cleft, thy rivers pant.
Restless as a fiery wheel
Earth's brood accurs'd before him reel;
Beneath his lightning's arrowy sheaf,
Sear'd they lie like autumn's leaf;
As when the thunder-clashing shower
Smote to the earth the Assyrian tower.
That like a heaven-aspiring star,
Lit the red sands of old Shinaar.
Dim portent and prodigy
Glared along the angry sky.
What fear the Midian curtains strook!
How pale the tents of Cushan shook!
The amazed sun o'er Gilboa's meads;
Rein'd in his fiery-footed steeds;
And amid night's highest noon,
Stay'd her pale car the wondering moon
With golden cressets hung on high,
And one by one along heaven's breast
The stars are dropping in the west:
Or through the wide Hesperian gate,
Walking each in regal state;
And the slope moon her wasted horn,
Stoops before the coming morn.
Let the bright and golden ray,
Light the long sands of Etham's bay;
Where far the accordant voices swell
—‘In exitu de Ægypto Israel:’—
Pass onward where the palm-tree waves
It's umbrage broad o'er Elim's caves;
And lo! where aged Sinai shrouds
His marble head amid the clouds.
Upon his crest, a mountain-grave,
No trees their darkning tresses wave,
xx
He stands amid the wreck of time.
Mountain of death! thou seest the Lord
E'en now unsheathe th'avenging sword;
Beneath his foot of adamant,
Thy rocks are cleft, thy rivers pant.
Restless as a fiery wheel
Earth's brood accurs'd before him reel;
Beneath his lightning's arrowy sheaf,
Sear'd they lie like autumn's leaf;
As when the thunder-clashing shower
Smote to the earth the Assyrian tower.
That like a heaven-aspiring star,
Lit the red sands of old Shinaar.
Dim portent and prodigy
Glared along the angry sky.
What fear the Midian curtains strook!
How pale the tents of Cushan shook!
The amazed sun o'er Gilboa's meads;
Rein'd in his fiery-footed steeds;
And amid night's highest noon,
Stay'd her pale car the wondering moon
Low the crown'd Amorite is laid,
And Og who Bashan's sceptre sway'd:
And they who with full ensigns spread,
Through Edom's fields their battle led
The warrior-dukes—with those that wield
On Hermon's hills the sun-like shield.
And that fierce king “so proud and haut,”
Who 'gainst the God of Israel fought;
Brazen-girt and huge of limb,
Sank the giant Anakim;
And his blood-strewn den beside,
Deep-gor'd, the fangless lion died.
Mountain-guarded Amalek
Bowed to earth his yokeless neck;
And that incestuous race that slake
Their lip in salt Asphaltis' lake.
Or when the shaggy Ishmaelite,
With Moab's wilder clans unite,
Where Arnon's mountain-torrents ran,
Their forward hope no trophy wan.
And Og who Bashan's sceptre sway'd:
And they who with full ensigns spread,
Through Edom's fields their battle led
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On Hermon's hills the sun-like shield.
And that fierce king “so proud and haut,”
Who 'gainst the God of Israel fought;
Brazen-girt and huge of limb,
Sank the giant Anakim;
And his blood-strewn den beside,
Deep-gor'd, the fangless lion died.
Mountain-guarded Amalek
Bowed to earth his yokeless neck;
And that incestuous race that slake
Their lip in salt Asphaltis' lake.
Or when the shaggy Ishmaelite,
With Moab's wilder clans unite,
Where Arnon's mountain-torrents ran,
Their forward hope no trophy wan.
Mark where beneath yon mountain's brow,
The dark, discolour'd waters flow,
Deep in that lake's empoison'd womb,
The guilty cities found their tomb.
There erst the kindling furnace glow'd
There red the fiery deluge flow'd.
Pointing it's cataracts of flame,
The wrath-wing'd bolt of lightning came:
Then the fierce flash, and sulphurous shower,
Blaz'd o'er each death-devoted tower:
O'er molten rock, and marble shrine,
Toss'd high, and wild, the burning brine.
Oh! race unblest, and unforgiven!
Ye sleep beneath the curse of heaven!
That slow, oblivious surge along,
No shepherd chaunts his evening song.
No bird its glittering plumage laves,
No pinnace cleaves the trembling waves;
No morning breeze, no insect's wing
Sweeps o'er the enamell'd bowers of spring;
But to the midnight winds alone,
The sullen surge repeats its moan;
The desart's dry, and cavern'd womb,
The splinter'd rock, the yawning tomb,
The bare, the thunder-blasted tree,
Proclaim the avenging Deity.
The dark, discolour'd waters flow,
Deep in that lake's empoison'd womb,
The guilty cities found their tomb.
There erst the kindling furnace glow'd
There red the fiery deluge flow'd.
Pointing it's cataracts of flame,
The wrath-wing'd bolt of lightning came:
Then the fierce flash, and sulphurous shower,
Blaz'd o'er each death-devoted tower:
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Toss'd high, and wild, the burning brine.
Oh! race unblest, and unforgiven!
Ye sleep beneath the curse of heaven!
That slow, oblivious surge along,
No shepherd chaunts his evening song.
No bird its glittering plumage laves,
No pinnace cleaves the trembling waves;
No morning breeze, no insect's wing
Sweeps o'er the enamell'd bowers of spring;
But to the midnight winds alone,
The sullen surge repeats its moan;
The desart's dry, and cavern'd womb,
The splinter'd rock, the yawning tomb,
The bare, the thunder-blasted tree,
Proclaim the avenging Deity.
E'en now from out the lake of death,
At times is heard the stifled breath;
Yon frowning rock's o'ershadowing cone,
A darker, deeper gloom has thrown;
Quick-flashing o'er the sulphurous stream,
Phosphoric lights are seen to gleam;
Beneath it's ponderous load, 'tis said,
Then heaves the foul bitumen-bed.
In other valleys far away,
The Bedouin archer seeks his prey;
His trembling hymn of praise and prayer,
The Greek caloyer raises there;
The Armenian patriarch bows his head,
Their hands the Coptic pilgrims spread;
Far heard mid Abyssinian springs,
The mitred priest his cymbal rings.
His silken caftan spread, e'en now,
The Sanziack turns his turban'd brow;
Still points the affrighted Arab where
Yon salt and spumy pools declare
The dread, the deathly sepulchre.
Still gleam the watery shadows pale,
Where rise the wrecks of Siddim's vale;
And still in dark'ning surface show
Where ruin'd Sodom sleeps below.
At times is heard the stifled breath;
Yon frowning rock's o'ershadowing cone,
A darker, deeper gloom has thrown;
Quick-flashing o'er the sulphurous stream,
Phosphoric lights are seen to gleam;
Beneath it's ponderous load, 'tis said,
Then heaves the foul bitumen-bed.
In other valleys far away,
The Bedouin archer seeks his prey;
xxiii
The Greek caloyer raises there;
The Armenian patriarch bows his head,
Their hands the Coptic pilgrims spread;
Far heard mid Abyssinian springs,
The mitred priest his cymbal rings.
His silken caftan spread, e'en now,
The Sanziack turns his turban'd brow;
Still points the affrighted Arab where
Yon salt and spumy pools declare
The dread, the deathly sepulchre.
Still gleam the watery shadows pale,
Where rise the wrecks of Siddim's vale;
And still in dark'ning surface show
Where ruin'd Sodom sleeps below.
Pass the hermit's hallow'd cells,
Where retir'd devotion dwells,
Where the entranced anchorite,
Pale watches through the silent night.
Let thy wandering feet be found,
By far Bethsara's frontier bound;
Or where the Tyrian helmsman hove
His bark in Saida's winding cove.
Queen of the bright, and ocean throne!
Far thy merchant-kings were known.
From Ophir's mines of golden ore,
To the Lusitanian shore.
Thine each lust'rous gem that sleeps,
In the vast unsounded deeps,
Where mid subterranean springs,
Lie the old Atlantian kings,
Each in his ocean-cavern bright
Of the glowing marchasite;
And the leafless groves for thee,
Blushed beneath the coral sea.
How bright thy gilded galleys rode!
How rich thy purple streamers glow'd!
Like stars, beneath the cedar-prow,
The trembling sapphire shook below;
As on it mov'd in beauty bright,
Showering flakes of silvery light;
While o'er the emerald waters borne,
Sounded the sweet, and ivory horn.
Where retir'd devotion dwells,
Where the entranced anchorite,
Pale watches through the silent night.
Let thy wandering feet be found,
By far Bethsara's frontier bound;
Or where the Tyrian helmsman hove
His bark in Saida's winding cove.
Queen of the bright, and ocean throne!
Far thy merchant-kings were known.
From Ophir's mines of golden ore,
To the Lusitanian shore.
xxiv
In the vast unsounded deeps,
Where mid subterranean springs,
Lie the old Atlantian kings,
Each in his ocean-cavern bright
Of the glowing marchasite;
And the leafless groves for thee,
Blushed beneath the coral sea.
How bright thy gilded galleys rode!
How rich thy purple streamers glow'd!
Like stars, beneath the cedar-prow,
The trembling sapphire shook below;
As on it mov'd in beauty bright,
Showering flakes of silvery light;
While o'er the emerald waters borne,
Sounded the sweet, and ivory horn.
As the eagle's pinion fleet,
O'er Sirion's rocks with silver feet,
Tossing high the streaming train,
Of his rich, and golden mane,
Mark the snowy unicorn
Bound in beauty to the morn;
In Hermon's cave the leopard sleeps,
And Carmel hath her purple steeps;
The wild rose gleams on Sharon's meads,
In Senir's cliffs the turtle breeds;
Rich Heshbon's brow with fruitage glows,
And Sibmah's golden vintage flows.
The lone, grey tower of Lebanon,
Looks frowning from his mountain-throne;
Jordan's fountains at it's feet,
In their tinkling channel meet,
And like lost trees of Eden's glade,
The cedar spreads his giant shade.
O'er Sirion's rocks with silver feet,
Tossing high the streaming train,
Of his rich, and golden mane,
Mark the snowy unicorn
Bound in beauty to the morn;
In Hermon's cave the leopard sleeps,
And Carmel hath her purple steeps;
The wild rose gleams on Sharon's meads,
In Senir's cliffs the turtle breeds;
xxv
And Sibmah's golden vintage flows.
The lone, grey tower of Lebanon,
Looks frowning from his mountain-throne;
Jordan's fountains at it's feet,
In their tinkling channel meet,
And like lost trees of Eden's glade,
The cedar spreads his giant shade.
Ah me! what pensive visions stirr'd
Her gentle voice, that erst was heard,
These lone, deserted vales along;
When Scotia's wild, and northern song,
Rose amid the moon-light air,
—“Bothwell bank, thou bloomest fair.”—
A bird from Teviot's bowers had stray'd,
From Teviot's hills a mountain maid.
Alas! what thoughts and visions strong
Were linked to that romantic song;
And dreams that came by night, by day,
Of the lov'd land, so far away.
An infant child—a cherub fair
Her soft and pensive bosom bare.
'Twas strange, amid these deserts wild
To see that fair, and gentle child,
And strange it seem'd, on Syria's plain,
To catch the minstrel's border strain.
Her dark eye bent, the Arab maid
Listen'd the lingering voice, and stay'd.
For sweetly still its wild notes spake
Of sun-lit hill, and streaming lake.
“'Mid these green vales, and waters fair,
“My babe I would that thou wert there,
“For joy thy mother's bosom fills
“To think of Cheviot's distant hills,
“And joy thy little heart would swell
“To pluck wild Ettricke's purple bell.
“To see our birchen shaws unfold
“Their tender leaves and buds of gold.
“And dancing up the flowery brae
“To catch the hawthorn-scented May,
“To see sweet Teviot's waters gleam,
“To trace wild Yarrow's mountain stream,
“'Mid gentler scenes, beloved Clyde,
“To view thy silver footsteps glide;
“Ah! mid green vales and waters there,
—“Bothwell bank, thou bloomest fair.”—
Her gentle voice, that erst was heard,
These lone, deserted vales along;
When Scotia's wild, and northern song,
Rose amid the moon-light air,
—“Bothwell bank, thou bloomest fair.”—
A bird from Teviot's bowers had stray'd,
From Teviot's hills a mountain maid.
Alas! what thoughts and visions strong
Were linked to that romantic song;
And dreams that came by night, by day,
Of the lov'd land, so far away.
An infant child—a cherub fair
Her soft and pensive bosom bare.
'Twas strange, amid these deserts wild
To see that fair, and gentle child,
And strange it seem'd, on Syria's plain,
To catch the minstrel's border strain.
xxvi
Listen'd the lingering voice, and stay'd.
For sweetly still its wild notes spake
Of sun-lit hill, and streaming lake.
“'Mid these green vales, and waters fair,
“My babe I would that thou wert there,
“For joy thy mother's bosom fills
“To think of Cheviot's distant hills,
“And joy thy little heart would swell
“To pluck wild Ettricke's purple bell.
“To see our birchen shaws unfold
“Their tender leaves and buds of gold.
“And dancing up the flowery brae
“To catch the hawthorn-scented May,
“To see sweet Teviot's waters gleam,
“To trace wild Yarrow's mountain stream,
“'Mid gentler scenes, beloved Clyde,
“To view thy silver footsteps glide;
“Ah! mid green vales and waters there,
—“Bothwell bank, thou bloomest fair.”—
Mark where within her marble womb,
Dark Petra guards the nameless tomb;
In many a mountain-chamber deep,
Inurn'd, the stately ashes sleep,
Of th'antique kings, whose sceptred sway,
E'en Pella's distant walls obey.
Or later seen, 'mid springs and streams,
Where far-retired, Gherasa gleams
Amid her Syrian solitude—
Oh! never mid those caverns rude,
Nor by that wild enchanted ground,
May thy unguarded feet be found,
What time, on sounding pinions heard,
Descends the huge, and demon-bird,
(Thus in Moslem legends told,)
Deep brooding o'er his buried gold.
Dark Petra guards the nameless tomb;
In many a mountain-chamber deep,
Inurn'd, the stately ashes sleep,
Of th'antique kings, whose sceptred sway,
E'en Pella's distant walls obey.
xxvii
Where far-retired, Gherasa gleams
Amid her Syrian solitude—
Oh! never mid those caverns rude,
Nor by that wild enchanted ground,
May thy unguarded feet be found,
What time, on sounding pinions heard,
Descends the huge, and demon-bird,
(Thus in Moslem legends told,)
Deep brooding o'er his buried gold.
Oh! aged Time! how far, and long,
Travell'd have thy pinions strong,
Since the masters of the world,
Here their eagle-wings unfurl'd.
Onward as the legions pass'd,
Was heard the Roman trumpet's blast;
And see the mountain portals old,
Now their opening gates unfold.
Slow moves the Consul's car between
Bright glittering helms and axes keen;
O'er moonlit rocks, and ramparts bare,
High the Prætorian banners glare.
Afar is heard the torrent's moan,
The winds through rifted caverns groan,
The vulture's huge primæval nest,
Wild toss'd the pine it's shatter'd crest;
Darker the black'ning forest frown'd:
Strange murmurs shook the trembling ground.
In the old warrior's midnight dream,
Gigantic shadows seem'd to gleam;
The Caudine forks, and Cannæ's field
Again their threat'ning cohorts yield.
Seated on the thunderer's throne,
He saw the shapes of gods unknown;
Saw in Olympus' golden Hall
The vollied lightning harmless fall;
The great, and Capitolian lord,
Dim sink, 'mid nameless forms abhorr'd.
Shook the Tarpeian cliff;—around
The trembling Augur felt the sound;
Saw God of Light! in deathly shade,
Thy rich, resplendent tresses fade,
And from the empty car of day,
The etherial coursers bound away.
Travell'd have thy pinions strong,
Since the masters of the world,
Here their eagle-wings unfurl'd.
Onward as the legions pass'd,
Was heard the Roman trumpet's blast;
And see the mountain portals old,
Now their opening gates unfold.
Slow moves the Consul's car between
Bright glittering helms and axes keen;
O'er moonlit rocks, and ramparts bare,
High the Prætorian banners glare.
Afar is heard the torrent's moan,
The winds through rifted caverns groan,
The vulture's huge primæval nest,
Wild toss'd the pine it's shatter'd crest;
xxviii
Strange murmurs shook the trembling ground.
In the old warrior's midnight dream,
Gigantic shadows seem'd to gleam;
The Caudine forks, and Cannæ's field
Again their threat'ning cohorts yield.
Seated on the thunderer's throne,
He saw the shapes of gods unknown;
Saw in Olympus' golden Hall
The vollied lightning harmless fall;
The great, and Capitolian lord,
Dim sink, 'mid nameless forms abhorr'd.
Shook the Tarpeian cliff;—around
The trembling Augur felt the sound;
Saw God of Light! in deathly shade,
Thy rich, resplendent tresses fade,
And from the empty car of day,
The etherial coursers bound away.
Then frequent rose the signal shrill,
Oft heard on Alba's echoing hill,
Or down the Apulian mountains borne,
The mingled swell of trump and horn;
The stern centurion frown'd to hear
Unearthly voices murmuring near,
Back to his still, and Sabine home
Fond thoughts, and favourite visions roam;
Sweet Vesta! o'er the woods again,
He views thy small, and silent fane.
He sees the whitening torrents leap
And flash round Tibur's mountain-steep.
Sees Persian ensigns wide unroll'd,
Barbaric kings in chains of gold.
O'er the long Appian's crowded street,
Sees trophied arms, and eagles meet,
Through the tall arch their triumph pour;—
Till rose the trumpet's louder roar,
From a thousand voices nigh,
Burst on his ear the banner-cry,
And o'er the concave rocks, the sound
‘AVRELIVS,’ smote with stern rebound.
Oft heard on Alba's echoing hill,
Or down the Apulian mountains borne,
The mingled swell of trump and horn;
The stern centurion frown'd to hear
Unearthly voices murmuring near,
Back to his still, and Sabine home
Fond thoughts, and favourite visions roam;
xxix
He views thy small, and silent fane.
He sees the whitening torrents leap
And flash round Tibur's mountain-steep.
Sees Persian ensigns wide unroll'd,
Barbaric kings in chains of gold.
O'er the long Appian's crowded street,
Sees trophied arms, and eagles meet,
Through the tall arch their triumph pour;—
Till rose the trumpet's louder roar,
From a thousand voices nigh,
Burst on his ear the banner-cry,
And o'er the concave rocks, the sound
‘AVRELIVS,’ smote with stern rebound.
Such the prophetic sounds of fear,
That woke, 'tis said, his midnight ear,
Within Grenada's gates of gold,
Sleeping in the Alhambra old,
E'er the great Miramolin
Beleaguer'd lay in Santaren;
Beneath the warlike Portingal,
He saw his Moorish turbants fall,
And the Mauritanian blood,
Stain Mondego's crystal flood,
While yet its silver current stray'd
Unsoil'd of the Affric blade;
Nor the unbaptized horde
Had felt the keen Castilian sword,
That back to Ishmael's impious nest,
For ever drave the brood unblest.
That woke, 'tis said, his midnight ear,
Within Grenada's gates of gold,
Sleeping in the Alhambra old,
E'er the great Miramolin
Beleaguer'd lay in Santaren;
Beneath the warlike Portingal,
He saw his Moorish turbants fall,
And the Mauritanian blood,
Stain Mondego's crystal flood,
While yet its silver current stray'd
Unsoil'd of the Affric blade;
xxx
Had felt the keen Castilian sword,
That back to Ishmael's impious nest,
For ever drave the brood unblest.
O'er the distant verge espy
Babel's towers lifted high,
Or where guards in barbaric sheen,
Her jewell'd throne, th'Assyrian Queen;
Along the cedar-roofs their light,
Flung the Chaldean cressets bright,
E'er her fated fall reveal'd
In characters of fire, was seal'd.
E'er 'mid earth's convulsive throes,
Hell's majestic monarchs rose,
From their sable thrones below,
The shadowy messengers of woe;
And through the spectral gloom profound,
Sceptred phantoms glared around.
Seen by the Sabian worshipper,
There rose Astarte's glitt'ring star.
And still on Eyrac's sands remain,
The marble wrecks of Shinaar's plain.
Shrouded within their shrines of gold,
Frown'd the blood-fed gods of old,
And lo! where rising many a rood,
The grim idol-image stood,
And far its evening shadow threw
O'er Dura's plain, in twilight hue.
Babel's towers lifted high,
Or where guards in barbaric sheen,
Her jewell'd throne, th'Assyrian Queen;
Along the cedar-roofs their light,
Flung the Chaldean cressets bright,
E'er her fated fall reveal'd
In characters of fire, was seal'd.
E'er 'mid earth's convulsive throes,
Hell's majestic monarchs rose,
From their sable thrones below,
The shadowy messengers of woe;
And through the spectral gloom profound,
Sceptred phantoms glared around.
Seen by the Sabian worshipper,
There rose Astarte's glitt'ring star.
And still on Eyrac's sands remain,
The marble wrecks of Shinaar's plain.
Shrouded within their shrines of gold,
Frown'd the blood-fed gods of old,
And lo! where rising many a rood,
The grim idol-image stood,
xxxi
O'er Dura's plain, in twilight hue.
There the Chaldean Seer afar
Scans each brightly beaming star,
That the crown of heaven doth grace
With cloudy Saturn's leaden mace.
Watching as on axle bright
Slowly wheels the silent night,
Till from the fields of far Cathay
Riseth the golden eastern day.
He each mystic sign could tell
Sigil deep, and powerful spell;
Oft by the later Archimage
Invok'd in Ruthnic symbol sage;—
And they who from the Orient came
To the star that dimm'd their Mithra's flame:
When throwing wide the ruby gate
Their Sun-god rose in regal state,
Far 'mid Persian rocks enshrin'd.—
Onward be: thy steps inclin'd
Where young forsaken Ishmaël
Sate by Bered's holy well.
Ah! who shall shield the fatherless;
The orphan in his lone distress;
Shall Gerar's regal gates enclose,
No more the helpless child of woes;
Will God a mother's hope destroy,
Nor save her young Arabian boy.
Alas! one longing look in vain,
They bend to Hebron's northward plain;
Then lone, and dark before them lie
The desarts of eternity.
Scans each brightly beaming star,
That the crown of heaven doth grace
With cloudy Saturn's leaden mace.
Watching as on axle bright
Slowly wheels the silent night,
Till from the fields of far Cathay
Riseth the golden eastern day.
He each mystic sign could tell
Sigil deep, and powerful spell;
Oft by the later Archimage
Invok'd in Ruthnic symbol sage;—
And they who from the Orient came
To the star that dimm'd their Mithra's flame:
When throwing wide the ruby gate
Their Sun-god rose in regal state,
Far 'mid Persian rocks enshrin'd.—
Onward be: thy steps inclin'd
Where young forsaken Ishmaël
Sate by Bered's holy well.
Ah! who shall shield the fatherless;
The orphan in his lone distress;
Shall Gerar's regal gates enclose,
No more the helpless child of woes;
xxxii
Nor save her young Arabian boy.
Alas! one longing look in vain,
They bend to Hebron's northward plain;
Then lone, and dark before them lie
The desarts of eternity.
Yet not within that desart-grave,
Sank with her child the Syrian slave;
Her the angel from the height
Of Seïr's cliffs, in vision bright,
Pointed what of fate sublime
Lay in the treasur'd womb of time;
Through the thirsty sands he showed
Where now fresh brook, and current flowed,
Where the dark tents of Kedar shine
Marking the long unnumber'd line,
And the Nabatæan bow
Close ambush'd smote the unguarded foe.
From Sur, to golden Havilah,
Far his fruitful seed shall sway;
Who their fiery coursers wheel
And flying, dart the lance of steel,
Or the patient camel guide
To far Medina's southern side,
Who dwell round Schamer's summits hoar
And the wild tribes of Omon's shore;—
Countless suns have roll'd; yet now
In the uncontrolled brow,
In the quick lightning of the eye,
The fiery glance that flashes by,
In each swart lip, and visage keen,
Is the blood of Hagar seen.
Sank with her child the Syrian slave;
Her the angel from the height
Of Seïr's cliffs, in vision bright,
Pointed what of fate sublime
Lay in the treasur'd womb of time;
Through the thirsty sands he showed
Where now fresh brook, and current flowed,
Where the dark tents of Kedar shine
Marking the long unnumber'd line,
And the Nabatæan bow
Close ambush'd smote the unguarded foe.
From Sur, to golden Havilah,
Far his fruitful seed shall sway;
Who their fiery coursers wheel
And flying, dart the lance of steel,
Or the patient camel guide
To far Medina's southern side,
Who dwell round Schamer's summits hoar
And the wild tribes of Omon's shore;—
xxxiii
In the uncontrolled brow,
In the quick lightning of the eye,
The fiery glance that flashes by,
In each swart lip, and visage keen,
Is the blood of Hagar seen.
Where Ephrath's nearer plain appears,
Grey mould'ring in the frown of years,
A lone tomb casts its lengthening shade,
There sleeps the young and Syrian maid:
Scarce won, in years twice seven-times told,
So hard, by him the Patriarch old.—
Pass by the time-worn sepulchre
Where Rachael lies; and think of her
Who o'er her child of sorrow sigh'd,
Her last, her loveliest, saw and died.
Duly there its social nest
Long has the bird of summer drest,
And round the old ancestral tomb
The Oskar wav'd its weeping plume.
Grey mould'ring in the frown of years,
A lone tomb casts its lengthening shade,
There sleeps the young and Syrian maid:
Scarce won, in years twice seven-times told,
So hard, by him the Patriarch old.—
Pass by the time-worn sepulchre
Where Rachael lies; and think of her
Who o'er her child of sorrow sigh'd,
Her last, her loveliest, saw and died.
Duly there its social nest
Long has the bird of summer drest,
And round the old ancestral tomb
The Oskar wav'd its weeping plume.
Alas! beneath yon pine-tree green
By me another tomb is seen.
Fled are the Syrian vales; no more
I view the wild Sidonian shore.
Far other glades, and mountains seem,
Before my pensive eyes to gleam.
There—lies! e'en now again
Slow moves the dark and funeral train;
An aged mother bending there,
Sire—sister,—all the heart's despair
Is gather'd round that hour that gave
The dust that shrouds their darling's grave.
For her, with gentlest hand was spread
The bridal bower, the genial bed,
With richest flowers of nature's store
Was strewn the glad, and nuptial floor.
Uplift the torch! what footsteps stirr'd
The leaves! a heavier groan is heard!
Apart by yonder yew-tree's side
A muffled form is seen to glide.
Alas! that cloak but ill conceals,
All that the bursting bosom feels,
Ill can that bonnet's shadowy plume
Hide the pale cheek, and forehead's gloom;—
The dirge is sung, the trentals read,
She sleeps beneath her earthy bed.
And all are gone! e'en HE no more
Is seen along that silent shore,
And many an evening sun hath shone
With slow, faint beams the grave upon.
Time's finger from the ivied tower,
Hath pointed many a midnight hour;
Now the green moss, and wild flower creeps
Above the stone where—sleeps:
And I, e'en I alone remain
To pour the tributary strain.
By me another tomb is seen.
Fled are the Syrian vales; no more
I view the wild Sidonian shore.
Far other glades, and mountains seem,
Before my pensive eyes to gleam.
xxxiv
Slow moves the dark and funeral train;
An aged mother bending there,
Sire—sister,—all the heart's despair
Is gather'd round that hour that gave
The dust that shrouds their darling's grave.
For her, with gentlest hand was spread
The bridal bower, the genial bed,
With richest flowers of nature's store
Was strewn the glad, and nuptial floor.
Uplift the torch! what footsteps stirr'd
The leaves! a heavier groan is heard!
Apart by yonder yew-tree's side
A muffled form is seen to glide.
Alas! that cloak but ill conceals,
All that the bursting bosom feels,
Ill can that bonnet's shadowy plume
Hide the pale cheek, and forehead's gloom;—
The dirge is sung, the trentals read,
She sleeps beneath her earthy bed.
And all are gone! e'en HE no more
Is seen along that silent shore,
And many an evening sun hath shone
With slow, faint beams the grave upon.
Time's finger from the ivied tower,
Hath pointed many a midnight hour;
Now the green moss, and wild flower creeps
Above the stone where—sleeps:
xxxv
To pour the tributary strain.
Bright ON! within thy fanes of gold
Is he, by Sechem's waters sold.
Who by his brethren erst betray'd
Wedded the young Egyptian maid
Fair Asenath; and held the helm
Of the rich, and Pharian realm.
Where the seven-throated Nile
Embraces Egypt's flowery isle
Obedient to the Sirian star:—
Of Sihor's fruitful vales afar,
And where Goshen's land is seen,
Sprinkled with flocks, and pastures green,
Whose bord'ring tribes, their roving home,
The wild Arabian desart roam.
There the grey Sheikh, and Emir old
Still their divided sceptres hold.
Above their Prophet's silent grave
Still their moony standards wave.
O'er the lone desart's trackless side,
Lead the rich Mahmal's curtain'd pride;
Or mourn, in mutual hate oppos'd,
The Caaba gate for ever clos'd.
Is he, by Sechem's waters sold.
Who by his brethren erst betray'd
Wedded the young Egyptian maid
Fair Asenath; and held the helm
Of the rich, and Pharian realm.
Where the seven-throated Nile
Embraces Egypt's flowery isle
Obedient to the Sirian star:—
Of Sihor's fruitful vales afar,
And where Goshen's land is seen,
Sprinkled with flocks, and pastures green,
Whose bord'ring tribes, their roving home,
The wild Arabian desart roam.
There the grey Sheikh, and Emir old
Still their divided sceptres hold.
Above their Prophet's silent grave
Still their moony standards wave.
O'er the lone desart's trackless side,
Lead the rich Mahmal's curtain'd pride;
Or mourn, in mutual hate oppos'd,
The Caaba gate for ever clos'd.
Mark where beneath his cedar shade
The Thesbian prophet sate, or stray'd,
E'er to Sidonian Zarephath,
Lay his heaven-directed path;
There roam'd the shepherd-kings that shield
Their gentle charge by fold, or field;
And when his weary journey done
Calls home his beams the westering sun,
And the drooping lids of day,
Close in the meek, and dewy ray;
What time the echoing hills repeat
The peaceful camel's evening bleat;
And shrouded the thick leaves among,
The locust trills it's farewell song:
Then oft to many a patriarch's tent
Came the angels visitant,
In the cool, and evening air,
By shady palm, and fountain fair,
In friendly converse, or with high
Ambàssage freighted from the sky;
Nor seldom on some great behest,
Was seen e'er noon, the seraph-guest
With his starry garland bright,
Stooping from the clouds of light;
Beauteous, as the forms that gleam
In a golden-winged dream.
And when still midnight never stirr'd,
Oft cherubic songs were heard,
Like music from the echoing steep,
Of neighbouring hill, and thicket deep.
Sleep silver torrents in your caves!
Ye fountains hush your murmuring waves!
Sweet winds your gentlest pinions spread!
Ye cedars bow the slumbering head.
And thou, whose great and crystal eye
Watcheth still the spangled sky,
When on her majestic throne
The bright moon doth reign alone,
Or in bashful, maiden pride
Half her silver face doth hide.
Ocean! in thy caverns deep
Hush the thrice charmed waves to sleep.
Nor thou, lov'd Philomel, thy strain
Wake to the listening woods again.
While music sweeter than the spheres,
Mute entranced silence hears;
And from the courts of heaven around,
Angelic harps and voices sound;
Or some permitted spirit bright
Sole sings, a radiant child of light,
Till as awakes the golden day,
The diapason sinks away.
The Thesbian prophet sate, or stray'd,
xxxvi
Lay his heaven-directed path;
There roam'd the shepherd-kings that shield
Their gentle charge by fold, or field;
And when his weary journey done
Calls home his beams the westering sun,
And the drooping lids of day,
Close in the meek, and dewy ray;
What time the echoing hills repeat
The peaceful camel's evening bleat;
And shrouded the thick leaves among,
The locust trills it's farewell song:
Then oft to many a patriarch's tent
Came the angels visitant,
In the cool, and evening air,
By shady palm, and fountain fair,
In friendly converse, or with high
Ambàssage freighted from the sky;
Nor seldom on some great behest,
Was seen e'er noon, the seraph-guest
With his starry garland bright,
Stooping from the clouds of light;
Beauteous, as the forms that gleam
In a golden-winged dream.
And when still midnight never stirr'd,
Oft cherubic songs were heard,
Like music from the echoing steep,
Of neighbouring hill, and thicket deep.
xxxvii
Ye fountains hush your murmuring waves!
Sweet winds your gentlest pinions spread!
Ye cedars bow the slumbering head.
And thou, whose great and crystal eye
Watcheth still the spangled sky,
When on her majestic throne
The bright moon doth reign alone,
Or in bashful, maiden pride
Half her silver face doth hide.
Ocean! in thy caverns deep
Hush the thrice charmed waves to sleep.
Nor thou, lov'd Philomel, thy strain
Wake to the listening woods again.
While music sweeter than the spheres,
Mute entranced silence hears;
And from the courts of heaven around,
Angelic harps and voices sound;
Or some permitted spirit bright
Sole sings, a radiant child of light,
Till as awakes the golden day,
The diapason sinks away.
Primæval hours of happiness!
The aged Patriarch's home to bless.
Beneath his spreading sycomore
Sate the grey sire with tresses hoar;
Late watching when the wattled fold
His home-returning flock may hold;
While softly breathed the evening gale
O'er honied rock, and milky vale;
Or by the lily-paved side,
Where some whispering waters glide,
Musing deep what thoughts could give
Of things abstruse, to those who live
Far from the bright celestial plains;
Oft harped in deep prophetic strains;
(E'er sin with foul eclipse between
The golden eye of heaven was seen,)
That not the Orphéan lyre could reach,
Nor wise Protëan numbers teach;
Nor what fetch'd from the Delphic spring,
Though Apollo's self might sing.
The aged Patriarch's home to bless.
Beneath his spreading sycomore
Sate the grey sire with tresses hoar;
xxxviii
His home-returning flock may hold;
While softly breathed the evening gale
O'er honied rock, and milky vale;
Or by the lily-paved side,
Where some whispering waters glide,
Musing deep what thoughts could give
Of things abstruse, to those who live
Far from the bright celestial plains;
Oft harped in deep prophetic strains;
(E'er sin with foul eclipse between
The golden eye of heaven was seen,)
That not the Orphéan lyre could reach,
Nor wise Protëan numbers teach;
Nor what fetch'd from the Delphic spring,
Though Apollo's self might sing.
Slow mov'd his sun's declining ray,
And soft life's evening sank away.
Meek peace, and simple truth were there,
And calm content that knows no care;
And wisdom patient to endure,
And sanctitude severe and pure.
Gentlest spirits from above:
From the bosom breath'd of love,
With hand divine that scattered round
Of the fairest flowers he found,
When the gales of Paradise
Wafted their bloom to mortal eyes,
Never since that primal hour,
Seen below in hall, or bower;—
Ye gentle handmaids of the day,
Sweet Hours! that round his chariot play,
Oh ye! whose earliest tears arose
To see the gates of Eden close;
Say, when will earth behold again
The pure delights of Mamre's plain;
Ah! when your spotless pleasures yield
Ye patriarch kings of Haran's field.
And soft life's evening sank away.
Meek peace, and simple truth were there,
And calm content that knows no care;
And wisdom patient to endure,
And sanctitude severe and pure.
Gentlest spirits from above:
From the bosom breath'd of love,
With hand divine that scattered round
Of the fairest flowers he found,
xxxix
Wafted their bloom to mortal eyes,
Never since that primal hour,
Seen below in hall, or bower;—
Ye gentle handmaids of the day,
Sweet Hours! that round his chariot play,
Oh ye! whose earliest tears arose
To see the gates of Eden close;
Say, when will earth behold again
The pure delights of Mamre's plain;
Ah! when your spotless pleasures yield
Ye patriarch kings of Haran's field.
Not such the apostate band defil'd
Grey wanderers of the desart wild;
What time the Arabian wilderness
Heard their Syrian songs distress;
Though died unfed the altar's flame,
Unblest though rose the sacred name;
Though stern rebellion spurn'd the rod,
Though Baal mock'd the living God;
Yet still the uplifted arm was slow,
Still mercy stay'd the impending blow.
Safe in deep vale, or mountain-head,
Like some fair flock their tents were spread;
Or when green cape, and headland grey,
In the golden evening lay,
Then it's close and verdant woof,
Rear'd the palm-encircl'd roof,
With many a broad, and leafy skreen,
Of pine, and myrtle rais'd between;
Above the heaven-protected field,
The winged warriors spread their shield;
Twice along their surgeless sands,
The shouting rivers clapt their hands;
Twice their wave-crown'd rampires stood,
Till the chosen pass'd the flood:
Its gleam the midnight Pharos threw
O'er Paran's rocks in crimson hue;
And still the column-cloud by day,
Waved o'er the sands its banners grey;
And faithful still; their guard, their guide,
It spread its sheltering curtains wide,
Till high the purple hills are seen,
That shadow Zerkah's banks of green:
Till the blest seed of Terah's son
Have their rich fields of promise won;
And Egypt's fetter'd bondsmen stand,
The ransom'd tribes of Jordan's strand.
Grey wanderers of the desart wild;
What time the Arabian wilderness
Heard their Syrian songs distress;
Though died unfed the altar's flame,
Unblest though rose the sacred name;
Though stern rebellion spurn'd the rod,
Though Baal mock'd the living God;
Yet still the uplifted arm was slow,
Still mercy stay'd the impending blow.
Safe in deep vale, or mountain-head,
Like some fair flock their tents were spread;
Or when green cape, and headland grey,
In the golden evening lay,
xl
Rear'd the palm-encircl'd roof,
With many a broad, and leafy skreen,
Of pine, and myrtle rais'd between;
Above the heaven-protected field,
The winged warriors spread their shield;
Twice along their surgeless sands,
The shouting rivers clapt their hands;
Twice their wave-crown'd rampires stood,
Till the chosen pass'd the flood:
Its gleam the midnight Pharos threw
O'er Paran's rocks in crimson hue;
And still the column-cloud by day,
Waved o'er the sands its banners grey;
And faithful still; their guard, their guide,
It spread its sheltering curtains wide,
Till high the purple hills are seen,
That shadow Zerkah's banks of green:
Till the blest seed of Terah's son
Have their rich fields of promise won;
And Egypt's fetter'd bondsmen stand,
The ransom'd tribes of Jordan's strand.
No more on flowery islet green,
At Eve, the Ibis' wing is seen.
Nor 'mid the tall Papyrus leaves,
Where his scaled head the Cayman heaves;
Rich with the Lotus blossom, now
No mystic chaplet binds their brow;
Far seen on Caphthors' level shore,
The groves of Memphis gleam no more;
With many an airy minaret
In the crimson radiance set;
Nor where the Idol-serpents hold
Their burnisht fanes of beaten gold;
Whether by the' Æthiop's greedy hands,
Wash'd from the pure and virgin sands;
Or if with swelling ingots fraught,
And massive wedge, rich carracks brought
From coffers of the' old Indian kings;
Deep digg'd 'mid eastern rocks and springs;—
Yet though for them no longer shines
The cup of Meroe's sparkling wines,
With that sweet food the bee has left
In the Cedar's sunny cleft;
Nor Migdol's massive towers contain
The hoarded wealth of Sennaar's plain:
No palm its purple fruitage shed,
No harvest rear its bearded head;
No more sweet birds of brightest plume,
Glance through the garden-isles of bloom.
Yet the grey sand, the granite rock
For them their sunless streams unlock:
Obedient to the Prophet's call,
How rich the dews of morning fall;
Ambrosiack food! and when the eye
Of heaven opes, the coming cry
Is heard, the fann'd air moves, the ear
Starts to the pinions rustling near;
Then thick, and dark as midnight's shroud,
Hangs o'er the camp the living cloud.
At Eve, the Ibis' wing is seen.
Nor 'mid the tall Papyrus leaves,
Where his scaled head the Cayman heaves;
xli
No mystic chaplet binds their brow;
Far seen on Caphthors' level shore,
The groves of Memphis gleam no more;
With many an airy minaret
In the crimson radiance set;
Nor where the Idol-serpents hold
Their burnisht fanes of beaten gold;
Whether by the' Æthiop's greedy hands,
Wash'd from the pure and virgin sands;
Or if with swelling ingots fraught,
And massive wedge, rich carracks brought
From coffers of the' old Indian kings;
Deep digg'd 'mid eastern rocks and springs;—
Yet though for them no longer shines
The cup of Meroe's sparkling wines,
With that sweet food the bee has left
In the Cedar's sunny cleft;
Nor Migdol's massive towers contain
The hoarded wealth of Sennaar's plain:
No palm its purple fruitage shed,
No harvest rear its bearded head;
No more sweet birds of brightest plume,
Glance through the garden-isles of bloom.
Yet the grey sand, the granite rock
For them their sunless streams unlock:
Obedient to the Prophet's call,
How rich the dews of morning fall;
xlii
Of heaven opes, the coming cry
Is heard, the fann'd air moves, the ear
Starts to the pinions rustling near;
Then thick, and dark as midnight's shroud,
Hangs o'er the camp the living cloud.
No more from vales of heaven are seen
Angel-forms in lustre sheen,
Leaving their bright supernal seat,
With man in converse high to meet;
Dire change, and alter'd fate e'er long
Must weep the alienated song:
On Carmel's steep, by Jordan's lake,
In vain the guardian Prophets spake.
Heaven's arm outstretch'd o'er wave and plain
In wrath, in love, reveal'd in vain.
“Thou City of the golden Sun!
“Say what mighty deeds were done.
“From concaves of the rocky vales,
“Fresh fans of heaven, ye winged gales;
“And ye Etesian winds that blow;
“Why on Cynthia's hills of snow,
“Rich Egypt's flowery lap to fill,
“Rested your glittering pinions still!
“Stars in your wandering courses bright,
“Why vail your brows in three-fold night;
“What hand the horned locust drave,
“Darkening the pure Pelusian wave;
“For whom your rich, and raven hair,
“Do ye, ye Soän virgins tear.
“What voice the trembling ocean calls,
“Apart to cleave his crystal walls?
“What arm the floodless fords has spread,
“And 'mid the Egyptian waters red
“Trampled on the dragon's head.
“Why stoops the strength of Edom? why
“Does mountain-dwelling Moab cry?
“Maugre his massive spear and shield;
“Why trembling fly the tented field?
“Who round his wolfish caverns strew'd
“The wreck of Anak's giant brood?
“Who smote, when spiteful Dagon fell
“Before the ark of Israel;
“On Pisgah's steep, what Prophet hoar
“Survey'd the strength of Canaan's shore,
“Whom long the Hebrew virgins wail
“Their buried pride in Moab's vale.
“And who his chosen flock to feed
“On Jordan's flowery verge decreed.”
Angel-forms in lustre sheen,
Leaving their bright supernal seat,
With man in converse high to meet;
Dire change, and alter'd fate e'er long
Must weep the alienated song:
On Carmel's steep, by Jordan's lake,
In vain the guardian Prophets spake.
Heaven's arm outstretch'd o'er wave and plain
In wrath, in love, reveal'd in vain.
“Thou City of the golden Sun!
“Say what mighty deeds were done.
“From concaves of the rocky vales,
“Fresh fans of heaven, ye winged gales;
“And ye Etesian winds that blow;
“Why on Cynthia's hills of snow,
“Rich Egypt's flowery lap to fill,
“Rested your glittering pinions still!
“Stars in your wandering courses bright,
“Why vail your brows in three-fold night;
“What hand the horned locust drave,
“Darkening the pure Pelusian wave;
xliii
“Do ye, ye Soän virgins tear.
“What voice the trembling ocean calls,
“Apart to cleave his crystal walls?
“What arm the floodless fords has spread,
“And 'mid the Egyptian waters red
“Trampled on the dragon's head.
“Why stoops the strength of Edom? why
“Does mountain-dwelling Moab cry?
“Maugre his massive spear and shield;
“Why trembling fly the tented field?
“Who round his wolfish caverns strew'd
“The wreck of Anak's giant brood?
“Who smote, when spiteful Dagon fell
“Before the ark of Israel;
“On Pisgah's steep, what Prophet hoar
“Survey'd the strength of Canaan's shore,
“Whom long the Hebrew virgins wail
“Their buried pride in Moab's vale.
“And who his chosen flock to feed
“On Jordan's flowery verge decreed.”
Oh! faithful ye! in vain, in vain,
Ye pour the deep, denouncing strain.
The heaven of brass, the earth of steel,
Confirm in vain your dread appeal,
Lost Israel's dark idolatries
Upon Samaria's altars rise.
Prescient of the mournful tale,
Uplift the deep prophetic veil
Her future crimes, her woes relate
And mark the coming shades of fate.
Thron'd in Damascus' silver walls
The false one there his votaries calls
Their midnight orgies to repeat
Beneath Astræa's starry seat.
Stern Tophet drowns the dying breath,
And dark is Hinnom's vale of death.
Your fanes obscene what glories fill
Ye bleating gods of Bethell's hill.
Veil'd in many a murky shroud
Their mitred heads the Magi bow'd.
To the accursed Teraphim
‘Nesroc,’ the virgin voices hymn;
The towers of Omri's idol-tomb,
Frown o'er old Shemir's woods of gloom;
And high on Mispah's mountain shines,
The star of Moloch's clouded shrines.
Ye pour the deep, denouncing strain.
The heaven of brass, the earth of steel,
Confirm in vain your dread appeal,
Lost Israel's dark idolatries
Upon Samaria's altars rise.
xliv
Uplift the deep prophetic veil
Her future crimes, her woes relate
And mark the coming shades of fate.
Thron'd in Damascus' silver walls
The false one there his votaries calls
Their midnight orgies to repeat
Beneath Astræa's starry seat.
Stern Tophet drowns the dying breath,
And dark is Hinnom's vale of death.
Your fanes obscene what glories fill
Ye bleating gods of Bethell's hill.
Veil'd in many a murky shroud
Their mitred heads the Magi bow'd.
To the accursed Teraphim
‘Nesroc,’ the virgin voices hymn;
The towers of Omri's idol-tomb,
Frown o'er old Shemir's woods of gloom;
And high on Mispah's mountain shines,
The star of Moloch's clouded shrines.
But see! the avenger wakes! like flame
Dark Ashur's steel-clad satraps came,
As wheel'd the Assyrian chivalry
The sounding cornets answer'd nigh.
Star of Orion! pour thy ray
To light deep Ramath's mountain way;
Grim as the wolf, whose evening yell
Scares from her cliffs the wild gazelle,
They come. The trumpet's brazen blair
Speaks Calah's cohorts prancing there.
Their rocks the mountain-quarries lent,
Their shafts the Syrian quivers sent;
It's burnish'd steel Damascus gave,
Their purple robes the Tyrian wave.
By Bosrah's frowning towers they pass,
And climb high Heshbon's walls of brass,
Where once a thousand helmets hung,
A thousand shields their splendour flung.
Red Moab's iron hills no more
Guard the deep glens of huge El-ghoor;
Nor mountains lifting to the morn,
The strength of many a granite horn,
Or where from Ansalt's peaks of snow
The headlong torrent fumes below.
Dark Ashur's steel-clad satraps came,
As wheel'd the Assyrian chivalry
The sounding cornets answer'd nigh.
Star of Orion! pour thy ray
To light deep Ramath's mountain way;
Grim as the wolf, whose evening yell
Scares from her cliffs the wild gazelle,
xlv
Speaks Calah's cohorts prancing there.
Their rocks the mountain-quarries lent,
Their shafts the Syrian quivers sent;
It's burnish'd steel Damascus gave,
Their purple robes the Tyrian wave.
By Bosrah's frowning towers they pass,
And climb high Heshbon's walls of brass,
Where once a thousand helmets hung,
A thousand shields their splendour flung.
Red Moab's iron hills no more
Guard the deep glens of huge El-ghoor;
Nor mountains lifting to the morn,
The strength of many a granite horn,
Or where from Ansalt's peaks of snow
The headlong torrent fumes below.
Then sank the brave by Sichem's dell;
Then Judah's lion banner fell.
With broken call the trumpet's breath
Blew faint and far the dirge of death.
How lone the cry in Hazor's vale!
How Janoah's widows weep and wail!
How is the robe of sorrow rent,
The hoary hair with ashes sprent;
Kneel maids of Israel! kneel in vain
To loose your captives bleeding chain;
By the cold Caspian's sunless shore
He climbs high Bactria's mountains hoar;
Or seeks, an exile pale, his grave
Where Scythian Oxus rolls his wave.
Then Judah's lion banner fell.
With broken call the trumpet's breath
Blew faint and far the dirge of death.
How lone the cry in Hazor's vale!
How Janoah's widows weep and wail!
How is the robe of sorrow rent,
The hoary hair with ashes sprent;
Kneel maids of Israel! kneel in vain
To loose your captives bleeding chain;
xlvi
He climbs high Bactria's mountains hoar;
Or seeks, an exile pale, his grave
Where Scythian Oxus rolls his wave.
Lost tribes of Israel's captive train!
In what far land, what Median plain,
Hold ye your exiled hours alone,
Poor slaves of Timur's iron throne.
Or mid the wild Iberian dales,
Load ye with sighs the passing gales?
How dark the lengthen'd frown of years,
It's deep majestic sorrow wears:
As laden with the weight of crime
Stayed had the wasted wheel of time.
Beneath the heathen sword profane,
Long your imprison'd tribes have lain.
To false, to alien gods betray'd,
Have long their penal forfeit paid.
In what far land, what Median plain,
Hold ye your exiled hours alone,
Poor slaves of Timur's iron throne.
Or mid the wild Iberian dales,
Load ye with sighs the passing gales?
How dark the lengthen'd frown of years,
It's deep majestic sorrow wears:
As laden with the weight of crime
Stayed had the wasted wheel of time.
Beneath the heathen sword profane,
Long your imprison'd tribes have lain.
To false, to alien gods betray'd,
Have long their penal forfeit paid.
Clos'd are the Caspian gates!—no more
Rise the lov'd hills of Salem's shore.
No more the winds of ocean sweep
For thee, round Carmel's shaded steep.
Yet still some lingering hopes beguile,
Some cherished visions seem to smile.
Some relics of the land divine
In lov'd possession still are thine.
The staff that smote the refluent wave,
The rod that bloom'd o'er Aaron's grave.
And the small ark that still contains
The dew that whiten'd Elim's plains.
Rise the lov'd hills of Salem's shore.
No more the winds of ocean sweep
For thee, round Carmel's shaded steep.
Yet still some lingering hopes beguile,
Some cherished visions seem to smile.
Some relics of the land divine
In lov'd possession still are thine.
xlvii
The rod that bloom'd o'er Aaron's grave.
And the small ark that still contains
The dew that whiten'd Elim's plains.
How glowing fancy mirrors near
Each pictur'd form to memory dear;
The glittering waves of Chobar's stream
To thee like silver Jordan gleam:
Like Siloa's fount, some mountain rill
Bathes thy small Sion's mimic hill;
Close hid, mid pathless crags aloof
Thy temple rears its little roof;
The wild Caucasian cliffs around
Sweet lutes, and silver voices sound:
The raven tress, the snowy veil
Mark hapless Sion's daughter pale.
Ah! when, a home-returning band,
When shall ye tread Tabaria's strand?
When catch on Hermon's hill the gale,
When drink the dews of Hebron's vale.
Ah! when your ancient seats regain
To join the hosts of Sion's plain.
But the dread hand of destiny
E'en now unfolds it's purpose high.
For you a prophet's hand shall cleave
Strong as of old, th'Assyrian wave,
As when the mighty man of God
O'er the red billows wav'd his rod;
Through Tadmor's marble wastes shall fling
The coolness of the crystal spring.
Then home, in hallow'd heart return;
In meek, repentant sorrow mourn:
On David's throne, in light divine
Behold the star of Israel shine,
And see thy own Messiah reign
The sainted babe of Bethlehem's plain.
Each pictur'd form to memory dear;
The glittering waves of Chobar's stream
To thee like silver Jordan gleam:
Like Siloa's fount, some mountain rill
Bathes thy small Sion's mimic hill;
Close hid, mid pathless crags aloof
Thy temple rears its little roof;
The wild Caucasian cliffs around
Sweet lutes, and silver voices sound:
The raven tress, the snowy veil
Mark hapless Sion's daughter pale.
Ah! when, a home-returning band,
When shall ye tread Tabaria's strand?
When catch on Hermon's hill the gale,
When drink the dews of Hebron's vale.
Ah! when your ancient seats regain
To join the hosts of Sion's plain.
But the dread hand of destiny
E'en now unfolds it's purpose high.
For you a prophet's hand shall cleave
Strong as of old, th'Assyrian wave,
xlviii
O'er the red billows wav'd his rod;
Through Tadmor's marble wastes shall fling
The coolness of the crystal spring.
Then home, in hallow'd heart return;
In meek, repentant sorrow mourn:
On David's throne, in light divine
Behold the star of Israel shine,
And see thy own Messiah reign
The sainted babe of Bethlehem's plain.
A fountain flows by Ennahkhore,
Chafing along it's pebbly shore,
Unmark'd the spot, it's name unknown,
Yet once along that bed of stone,
A thousand warriors lay, the pride
Of Gath, and Gaza's frontier side.
There the sinewy Nazarite
His pale Philistian foes did smite,
When his unshorn locks he shook
Their mightiest host with terror strook;
As some dark, avenging star
Frowning from his throne afar.
Nor ceas'd, till through the summer-day
Like wither'd leaves their warriors lay;
Unwearied then, beneath the shade,
Of Etan's rocks, his strength he laid.
Oh! hold that hand! ah! false as fair
Who clipt thy long enchanted hair;
By the razor's edge unshorn,
And streaming like the golden morn:
E'er long, shall Caphtor's feastful day,
With blood, the traitorous theft repay!
For thee shall Ekron's virgins steep
Their songs in tears; and Azzah weep,
E'en distant Askelon shall mourn
The Danite stranger's dark sojourn.
Chafing along it's pebbly shore,
Unmark'd the spot, it's name unknown,
Yet once along that bed of stone,
A thousand warriors lay, the pride
Of Gath, and Gaza's frontier side.
There the sinewy Nazarite
His pale Philistian foes did smite,
When his unshorn locks he shook
Their mightiest host with terror strook;
As some dark, avenging star
Frowning from his throne afar.
Nor ceas'd, till through the summer-day
Like wither'd leaves their warriors lay;
Unwearied then, beneath the shade,
Of Etan's rocks, his strength he laid.
xlix
Who clipt thy long enchanted hair;
By the razor's edge unshorn,
And streaming like the golden morn:
E'er long, shall Caphtor's feastful day,
With blood, the traitorous theft repay!
For thee shall Ekron's virgins steep
Their songs in tears; and Azzah weep,
E'en distant Askelon shall mourn
The Danite stranger's dark sojourn.
Pass where of old the giant kings
Fought by Megiddo's water springs,
And the lords of Issachàr
Came marching to the mountain war.
There the quiver'd Eprhaamite
O'er Tabor led his conquering might,
Showering thick their shafts of flame,
Ophrah's sinewy bowmen came.
Wearing each his regal crown;
Rode the kings of Machir down;
Whose aged sceptre's awful sway,
Far the eastern hills obey.
Ah! why did Gilead then abide
Far off, by Jordan's peaceful side.
Why strong, did seaward Ashur lay
The Cothons of her shelter'd bay.
Alas! what strength could Reuben hold
To dwell the while by field, or fold.
What from the war could him detain
Where shepherds roam the tented plain:
And crown'd with autumn's tawny leaf,
The sunny reaper binds the sheaf.
Where the herd's lordly monarch wades
Through Bashan's rich, and pastur'd glades,
Or stoops his shaggy brows to lave
In the fords of Arnon's mountain wave.
And where is He whose trumpet shrill
Shook the deep caves of Tabor's hill.
To hail whose home-returning car
E'en now Harosheth looks afar,
Chain'd at his wheels, a weeping band,
Judæa's dark-hair'd daughters stand.
From many a tower, and battlement
Far seen, unnumber'd eyes are bent.
Fought by Megiddo's water springs,
And the lords of Issachàr
Came marching to the mountain war.
There the quiver'd Eprhaamite
O'er Tabor led his conquering might,
Showering thick their shafts of flame,
Ophrah's sinewy bowmen came.
Wearing each his regal crown;
Rode the kings of Machir down;
Whose aged sceptre's awful sway,
Far the eastern hills obey.
Ah! why did Gilead then abide
Far off, by Jordan's peaceful side.
Why strong, did seaward Ashur lay
The Cothons of her shelter'd bay.
l
To dwell the while by field, or fold.
What from the war could him detain
Where shepherds roam the tented plain:
And crown'd with autumn's tawny leaf,
The sunny reaper binds the sheaf.
Where the herd's lordly monarch wades
Through Bashan's rich, and pastur'd glades,
Or stoops his shaggy brows to lave
In the fords of Arnon's mountain wave.
And where is He whose trumpet shrill
Shook the deep caves of Tabor's hill.
To hail whose home-returning car
E'en now Harosheth looks afar,
Chain'd at his wheels, a weeping band,
Judæa's dark-hair'd daughters stand.
From many a tower, and battlement
Far seen, unnumber'd eyes are bent.
“Watchman, on yon turrets high!
“Saw you, down the tented sky
“O'er lengthening files in dark array
“His home-returning banners play?
“Mark'd you to the sunny beam
“Burnish'd targe, and helmet gleam,
“And the snaffled steeds afar
“Bearing the rich, refulgent car,
“Or mid the dancing plumes of light,
“Saw you the cymbals clashing bright?”
Ashtaroth, and Bäalim!
Save him, ye blood-stain'd idols grim!
Alas! long through the lattic'd grate,
For him shall Syria's maidens wait,
Nor deem that in far vales away,
At Jaël's feet their warrior lay.
So that Bethulian warrioress
In later Sion's deep distress;
Fearless to the Assyrian tent
In her bridal beauty went,
And back to Dothan's mountain shore,
Unharm'd, her bleeding trophies bore.
“Saw you, down the tented sky
“O'er lengthening files in dark array
“His home-returning banners play?
“Mark'd you to the sunny beam
“Burnish'd targe, and helmet gleam,
“And the snaffled steeds afar
“Bearing the rich, refulgent car,
li
“Saw you the cymbals clashing bright?”
Ashtaroth, and Bäalim!
Save him, ye blood-stain'd idols grim!
Alas! long through the lattic'd grate,
For him shall Syria's maidens wait,
Nor deem that in far vales away,
At Jaël's feet their warrior lay.
So that Bethulian warrioress
In later Sion's deep distress;
Fearless to the Assyrian tent
In her bridal beauty went,
And back to Dothan's mountain shore,
Unharm'd, her bleeding trophies bore.
Then their prancing hoofs in vain
Dinted Taanach's thirsty plain;
Low sinks to earth the bounding steed
That fed by Tigris' flowery mead;
And fleeter than the falcon's wing,
Scarce shook Orontes' crystal spring.
Beneath old Kishon's trampling waves,
Dark Hazor's archers found their graves.
Lift Barak, lift thy song, and cry
‘The Lord hath triumph'd gloriously!’
For thee, the strength of heaven, the stars
Fought within their ancient spheres.
Heading her hosts, in jewell'd sheen,
Came the dark, and Æthiop queen,
On th'eagle-winged winds, that sweep
Around night's starry mountain steep.
And in the bright aerial hall
Who their fiery synod call;
Askance with angry horns they strook;—
His glittering sword Orion shook.
Along the steeps of heaven afar
Arcturus drove his sultry car,
Far from his polar hills of snow;
And he who drew the Œmonian bow.
With scorching tresses on they came,
Waving their ruddy beards of flame.
Sweet Pleiades! oh ye that bring
From out his bowers the youthful spring,
When far along the evening dell
Breathes the rich mandrake's dewy smell,
With fir-blooms, and the gales that rove
Around the scented cedar-grove.
On your silver thrones on high
Bent ye down your radiant eye;
And beauteous in his summer shine
Golden Mazaroth was thine.
Dinted Taanach's thirsty plain;
Low sinks to earth the bounding steed
That fed by Tigris' flowery mead;
And fleeter than the falcon's wing,
Scarce shook Orontes' crystal spring.
Beneath old Kishon's trampling waves,
Dark Hazor's archers found their graves.
Lift Barak, lift thy song, and cry
‘The Lord hath triumph'd gloriously!’
For thee, the strength of heaven, the stars
Fought within their ancient spheres.
lii
Came the dark, and Æthiop queen,
On th'eagle-winged winds, that sweep
Around night's starry mountain steep.
And in the bright aerial hall
Who their fiery synod call;
Askance with angry horns they strook;—
His glittering sword Orion shook.
Along the steeps of heaven afar
Arcturus drove his sultry car,
Far from his polar hills of snow;
And he who drew the Œmonian bow.
With scorching tresses on they came,
Waving their ruddy beards of flame.
Sweet Pleiades! oh ye that bring
From out his bowers the youthful spring,
When far along the evening dell
Breathes the rich mandrake's dewy smell,
With fir-blooms, and the gales that rove
Around the scented cedar-grove.
On your silver thrones on high
Bent ye down your radiant eye;
And beauteous in his summer shine
Golden Mazaroth was thine.
Thus old Gideon's matchless might
Slew the vanquish'd Madianite,
Wielding the herdsman's conquering goad,
O'er thinn'd Philistia Shamgar strode.
Ye travellers, safe by palmy wells!
Ye shepherds in the moonlight dells!
Thou furr'd and gowned Sanhedrim!
Ye grey-hair'd elders raise the hymn!
Oh! fair, and wise, and eloquent,
Oh! Israel's maiden ornament.
Prescient thou, in counsel sage
Of future time's recording page.
Oh! strength of Ephraim! just, and wise!
Holy prophetess arise,
Take down the Hebrew harp again
And breathe the loud, triumphant strain.
“Great God of battle, hear our prayer!
“To Sion's stately courts repair,
“From thy thunderous throne on high
“In thy far blazing majesty:
“Circling whose seat on either hand,
“The great Cherubic cohorts stand.
“Heaven's hierarchs old, in burning row,
“Who the celestial trumpets blow,
“Aye watching there the bosom bright,
“And that awful eye of light;
“Or soaring round with golden wing
“In rang'd quaternion, ever sing;
“From thy sapphire throne above
“Jehovah, bend an eye of love.
“Thou, who within their ancient caves,
“Bade sleep the world-devouring waves,
“And that sternless boat didst guide
“Hull'd on the eastern mountain's side,
“Who o'er the Idumèan coasts
“Safe led the Patriarch's mighty hosts;
“Thou from whose outstretch'd arm have fled,
“Mighty warriors famoused;
“Of whom, honor'd time doth tell
“In his stately Chronicle.
“God of Sabbaoth! list our lays.
“Elohim! hear the hymn of praise.
Wake, Debora, thy song on high,
‘The Lord hath triumph'd gloriously.’
E'en now by Eksalls banks of green
A warrior's tombless bones are seen.
The hollow helm, the dinted shield
Still strew the solitary field.
In that low grave the tortoise sleeps,
The adder climbs the mouldering heaps,
And bleached by sun, by dew, by rain,
They whiten Xaloth's blasted plain.
Slew the vanquish'd Madianite,
liii
O'er thinn'd Philistia Shamgar strode.
Ye travellers, safe by palmy wells!
Ye shepherds in the moonlight dells!
Thou furr'd and gowned Sanhedrim!
Ye grey-hair'd elders raise the hymn!
Oh! fair, and wise, and eloquent,
Oh! Israel's maiden ornament.
Prescient thou, in counsel sage
Of future time's recording page.
Oh! strength of Ephraim! just, and wise!
Holy prophetess arise,
Take down the Hebrew harp again
And breathe the loud, triumphant strain.
“Great God of battle, hear our prayer!
“To Sion's stately courts repair,
“From thy thunderous throne on high
“In thy far blazing majesty:
“Circling whose seat on either hand,
“The great Cherubic cohorts stand.
“Heaven's hierarchs old, in burning row,
“Who the celestial trumpets blow,
“Aye watching there the bosom bright,
“And that awful eye of light;
“Or soaring round with golden wing
“In rang'd quaternion, ever sing;
“From thy sapphire throne above
“Jehovah, bend an eye of love.
liv
“Bade sleep the world-devouring waves,
“And that sternless boat didst guide
“Hull'd on the eastern mountain's side,
“Who o'er the Idumèan coasts
“Safe led the Patriarch's mighty hosts;
“Thou from whose outstretch'd arm have fled,
“Mighty warriors famoused;
“Of whom, honor'd time doth tell
“In his stately Chronicle.
“God of Sabbaoth! list our lays.
“Elohim! hear the hymn of praise.
Wake, Debora, thy song on high,
‘The Lord hath triumph'd gloriously.’
E'en now by Eksalls banks of green
A warrior's tombless bones are seen.
The hollow helm, the dinted shield
Still strew the solitary field.
In that low grave the tortoise sleeps,
The adder climbs the mouldering heaps,
And bleached by sun, by dew, by rain,
They whiten Xaloth's blasted plain.
But hark! on midnight's listening ear,
Unearthly voices murmur near,
Heard like the shrivell'd Parcæ's breath;
Or the tainted blast of death
O'er the pale and Stygian meads,
Blown from the dark Tænarian steeds,
That in fiery Phlegethon
Plunge, their weary journey done.
And fleshless forms in shadowy gloom,
Rise from dark Endor's cavern'd womb,
Where, in regal sovereignty
Intomb'd, earth's ancient monarchs lie.
The glittering crown their temples shade,
Their gaunt arms grasp the steely blade
As rising to the embattled field;
Or their golden sceptres wield.
And see the beckoning shadows pale
Slowly their awful forms unvail.
They move! they rise! what powerful breath
Invades the majesty of death?
Why shrieks the enchantress pale, as last,
Stern in dark shroud the Prophet past.
Oh! lost, discrown'd, dishonour'd Saul!
Those moveless lips have doom'd thy fall.
Alas! for Ephraim's strength o'erthrown!
Alas! for Israel's kingless throne!
“A monarch's blood is flowing there
(Frown'd, as he spake, the Prophet-seer,)
“Smote by the fell Ascalonite
“I mark his banner's broken flight.”
And see on yonder mountain's crest,
A wounded warrior sinks to rest.
His heart's best blood the shaft has dyed,
His few, his faithful sleep beside.
How chang'd from him, whom Helah's plain
Saw victor of his thousands slain.
When glory like a maiden bride,
Walk'd by the youthful warrior's side,
And blew her silver trump, and round
Her feet, the fetter'd monarchs bound.
Beside the little mountain brook,
The flocks their dewy fleeces shook;
E'er sank the sun, a deeper hue
Had stain'd with death its waters blue;
And Bethshan's walls the trophies bear
Of Israel's monarch bleeding there.
Unearthly voices murmur near,
Heard like the shrivell'd Parcæ's breath;
Or the tainted blast of death
lv
Blown from the dark Tænarian steeds,
That in fiery Phlegethon
Plunge, their weary journey done.
And fleshless forms in shadowy gloom,
Rise from dark Endor's cavern'd womb,
Where, in regal sovereignty
Intomb'd, earth's ancient monarchs lie.
The glittering crown their temples shade,
Their gaunt arms grasp the steely blade
As rising to the embattled field;
Or their golden sceptres wield.
And see the beckoning shadows pale
Slowly their awful forms unvail.
They move! they rise! what powerful breath
Invades the majesty of death?
Why shrieks the enchantress pale, as last,
Stern in dark shroud the Prophet past.
Oh! lost, discrown'd, dishonour'd Saul!
Those moveless lips have doom'd thy fall.
Alas! for Ephraim's strength o'erthrown!
Alas! for Israel's kingless throne!
“A monarch's blood is flowing there
(Frown'd, as he spake, the Prophet-seer,)
“Smote by the fell Ascalonite
“I mark his banner's broken flight.”
And see on yonder mountain's crest,
A wounded warrior sinks to rest.
lvi
His few, his faithful sleep beside.
How chang'd from him, whom Helah's plain
Saw victor of his thousands slain.
When glory like a maiden bride,
Walk'd by the youthful warrior's side,
And blew her silver trump, and round
Her feet, the fetter'd monarchs bound.
Beside the little mountain brook,
The flocks their dewy fleeces shook;
E'er sank the sun, a deeper hue
Had stain'd with death its waters blue;
And Bethshan's walls the trophies bear
Of Israel's monarch bleeding there.
Deep in yon Terebinthine vale
Was heard the evening trumpet's wail.
On Astekah's long ridge appears,
The bristling file of Dagon's spears.
Up, for the feast of war is spread!
Up to the field of battle red!
Alas! the vulture's talon yet
With Israel's richest blood is wet.
The sounding orichalch no more
Shall wake them on that silent shore.
Shades of the brave on Thirza's strand!
What champion guards your helpless land!
Who faithful still to Sion's lord
Unsheaths the consecrated sword.
What chiefs in Hebron's halls remain,
The shatter'd wreck of Gilboa's plain.
Or do heaven's holy warriors still
Sit arm'd on Sion's guarded hill?
Lov'd of the Lord! they wait for thee,
Thou sweetest flower of Jesse's tree.
Dear, sacred Child! ne'er may my song
Thy pure, confiding courage wrong:
Thy youthful hand, thy constant heart,
Well shall play a warrior's part.
Thee from among the yeaning ewes,
And flocks, the God of battle chose.
Go then against the helm of gold!
Go, in thy conscious virtue bold!
Go! and God's blessing on the field
Of carnage, be thy only shield.
Oh! faultless, fearless found, be thine
The promise of the wreath divine.
Thy shepherd's staff a sceptre be
Thou faithful child, in endless fee!
Nor adamant, nor armour there,
Did the beardless warrior wear;
That tender arm could never wield
The strength of Saul's immortal shield.
Nor brazen bow, nor steely helm
Guarded Israel's doubtful realm,
But the youthful shepherd's crook,
And the smooth stone from Elah's brook,
Their mightiest host with terror strook.
Then the pale Philistian knight
His unflesh'd valour turn'd to flight;
And bending low his helmed head,
The frowning Gathite warrior fled.
Was heard the evening trumpet's wail.
On Astekah's long ridge appears,
The bristling file of Dagon's spears.
Up, for the feast of war is spread!
Up to the field of battle red!
Alas! the vulture's talon yet
With Israel's richest blood is wet.
The sounding orichalch no more
Shall wake them on that silent shore.
Shades of the brave on Thirza's strand!
What champion guards your helpless land!
lvii
Unsheaths the consecrated sword.
What chiefs in Hebron's halls remain,
The shatter'd wreck of Gilboa's plain.
Or do heaven's holy warriors still
Sit arm'd on Sion's guarded hill?
Lov'd of the Lord! they wait for thee,
Thou sweetest flower of Jesse's tree.
Dear, sacred Child! ne'er may my song
Thy pure, confiding courage wrong:
Thy youthful hand, thy constant heart,
Well shall play a warrior's part.
Thee from among the yeaning ewes,
And flocks, the God of battle chose.
Go then against the helm of gold!
Go, in thy conscious virtue bold!
Go! and God's blessing on the field
Of carnage, be thy only shield.
Oh! faultless, fearless found, be thine
The promise of the wreath divine.
Thy shepherd's staff a sceptre be
Thou faithful child, in endless fee!
Nor adamant, nor armour there,
Did the beardless warrior wear;
That tender arm could never wield
The strength of Saul's immortal shield.
Nor brazen bow, nor steely helm
Guarded Israel's doubtful realm,
lviii
And the smooth stone from Elah's brook,
Their mightiest host with terror strook.
Then the pale Philistian knight
His unflesh'd valour turn'd to flight;
And bending low his helmed head,
The frowning Gathite warrior fled.
On his cloud-dividing wing
Let the lordly eagle spring,
In the fields of glory prey,
And drink the golden fount of day.
But beneath his subject skies,
For him no richer banquet lies,
His thunder-grasping talons ne'er
Shall a nobler conquest share,
Than the victor's hand has lain
A giant wreck, on Succoth's plain.
Come now with virgin symphony,
Come in thy spoils of victory!
The prophet's hope, the anointed One,
Long look'd for Jesse's beauteous Son!
Oh! come in youthful beauty fair,
The chosen seed, the promised heir.
Dread, sacred Child! thy name, thy praise
Shall flourish still through endless days.
A shepherd boy on Israel's throne,
Restore her ancient might o'erthrown,
And bind àround thy brows divine
The crown of Judah's sceptred line.
Let the lordly eagle spring,
In the fields of glory prey,
And drink the golden fount of day.
But beneath his subject skies,
For him no richer banquet lies,
His thunder-grasping talons ne'er
Shall a nobler conquest share,
Than the victor's hand has lain
A giant wreck, on Succoth's plain.
Come now with virgin symphony,
Come in thy spoils of victory!
The prophet's hope, the anointed One,
Long look'd for Jesse's beauteous Son!
Oh! come in youthful beauty fair,
The chosen seed, the promised heir.
Dread, sacred Child! thy name, thy praise
Shall flourish still through endless days.
A shepherd boy on Israel's throne,
Restore her ancient might o'erthrown,
lix
The crown of Judah's sceptred line.
And see in vision clear foretold
Who thy destin'd realm shall hold,
Who thy lofty lineage own;—
‘The Master of the ivory throne.’
Great Lord of earth's exhaustless store,
From Ind to Affric's golden shore.
And his to sway with spell divine
Each power that holds his starry shrine.
E'en now in spousals pure and chaste,
He his Memphian bride embrac'd;
Nor second he who rear'd again
In love, in zeal, the ruin'd fane,
Smote the dark sorcerer on the stone
Beside his idol-god o'erthrown;
And quench'd the cauldron's fires obscene
That glared o'er Ephraim's hills of green.
And who his Sion to defend
Saw the Cherubic host descend,
O'er Salem's towers the radiant flight
Swift on their starry plumes alight,
High the celestial standard wield,
O'er Judah spread the sun-bright shield;
Nor him forget, who in the fight
Met single, Moab's idol-might.
Though Seïr join'd his conquering spear,
Though Ammon's banners floated there;
Dauntless yet the warrior stood,
Nor fail'd that heart of courage good,
Till self-slaughter'd in the dell
Of Berachah, the foemen fell,
And in Jehovah's fane ador'd
He sheathed in peace the sated sword.
Who thy destin'd realm shall hold,
Who thy lofty lineage own;—
‘The Master of the ivory throne.’
Great Lord of earth's exhaustless store,
From Ind to Affric's golden shore.
And his to sway with spell divine
Each power that holds his starry shrine.
E'en now in spousals pure and chaste,
He his Memphian bride embrac'd;
Nor second he who rear'd again
In love, in zeal, the ruin'd fane,
Smote the dark sorcerer on the stone
Beside his idol-god o'erthrown;
And quench'd the cauldron's fires obscene
That glared o'er Ephraim's hills of green.
And who his Sion to defend
Saw the Cherubic host descend,
O'er Salem's towers the radiant flight
Swift on their starry plumes alight,
High the celestial standard wield,
O'er Judah spread the sun-bright shield;
Nor him forget, who in the fight
Met single, Moab's idol-might.
lx
Though Ammon's banners floated there;
Dauntless yet the warrior stood,
Nor fail'd that heart of courage good,
Till self-slaughter'd in the dell
Of Berachah, the foemen fell,
And in Jehovah's fane ador'd
He sheathed in peace the sated sword.
Those Hebrew songs to thee be dear,
That pleased so well the victor's ear,
And those harps in Babylon
That pensive told of pleasures gone,
What time that Judah's captive maids
Wept for their Sion's distant shades,
And ever when the moon-light pale
Look'd down on Perah's willowy vale,
Far from pleasant Palestine,
Where broad Euphrates' waters shine,
They saw in every twilight dream,
The viny grot, the haunted stream.
Fresh springs that gush'd through Syrian dales,
The tents that darken'd Elah's vales.
Emmaus' meads,—the fires that glow
Fair Bethell, o'er thy hallow'd brow;
Saw, moving round the ark divine,
The white-rob'd Levites guard the shrine,
Nor the sacred hierophant
Did his mystic Ephod want,
Nor the breast-plate's broider'd swell
The wreathen robe, the golden bell:
Nor the purple fillet round
His holy brows in order bound.
Heard o'er their temple's Cedarn roof
The loud Hosannah peal aloof,
Above its massive floors of gold
Saw bright Cherubic wings unfold:
As when amid the boreal air
Aurora shakes her fiery hair;
And the Shechinah display
Enspher'd on earth, it's promis'd ray.
That pleased so well the victor's ear,
And those harps in Babylon
That pensive told of pleasures gone,
What time that Judah's captive maids
Wept for their Sion's distant shades,
And ever when the moon-light pale
Look'd down on Perah's willowy vale,
Far from pleasant Palestine,
Where broad Euphrates' waters shine,
They saw in every twilight dream,
The viny grot, the haunted stream.
Fresh springs that gush'd through Syrian dales,
The tents that darken'd Elah's vales.
Emmaus' meads,—the fires that glow
Fair Bethell, o'er thy hallow'd brow;
Saw, moving round the ark divine,
The white-rob'd Levites guard the shrine,
lxi
Did his mystic Ephod want,
Nor the breast-plate's broider'd swell
The wreathen robe, the golden bell:
Nor the purple fillet round
His holy brows in order bound.
Heard o'er their temple's Cedarn roof
The loud Hosannah peal aloof,
Above its massive floors of gold
Saw bright Cherubic wings unfold:
As when amid the boreal air
Aurora shakes her fiery hair;
And the Shechinah display
Enspher'd on earth, it's promis'd ray.
The mailed warrior in his tower,
The bridegroom in his lov'd one's bower;
The eagle on the mountains free,
Are types, oh! Sun divine, of thee.
But never, o'er a subject world,
Since thy shafts of light were hurl'd.
Since thy regal brow hath worn,
The star-bright diadem of morn:
Or from thy western couch of gold;
Could thy refulgent eye behold
Glories such as those that rest
On Moriah's consecrated crest:
The wonders of those beams divine,
That rise on Israel's chosen shrine;
And gleam in soften'd splendor, o'er
The Arkite seat remov'd no more.
The bridegroom in his lov'd one's bower;
The eagle on the mountains free,
Are types, oh! Sun divine, of thee.
But never, o'er a subject world,
Since thy shafts of light were hurl'd.
Since thy regal brow hath worn,
The star-bright diadem of morn:
Or from thy western couch of gold;
Could thy refulgent eye behold
Glories such as those that rest
On Moriah's consecrated crest:
lxii
That rise on Israel's chosen shrine;
And gleam in soften'd splendor, o'er
The Arkite seat remov'd no more.
Those fair fields of Bethany,
Rich in their purple beauty lie;
Mountains at whose verdant feet
Lake and winding river meet;
Stream and brooklet warble there,
Bloom the banks of Jordan fair,
And his twin-divided stream
Flows to meet the morning beam.
Along Callirhoe's rock-girt vale
The cane-tuft flings it's foliage pale.
Down green Amana's rifted side
How fresh the sparkling waters glide;
While the amethystine bow
Spans the glittering wave below.
By Cherith's brook the raven feeds,
Fair Cedron hath her flowery meads.
Swept by the Seraph's golden wing
Still gleams Bethesda's sacred spring,
In the blue depth of Soreck's rill,
Still dips the bird it's little bill,
And by grey rock, and waving tree,
Still Siloah flows thy fountain free.
Sweet streams! how many an age untold
Have your sacred waters roll'd,
Since bending o'er your flowery brink
The Christian warrior kneel'd to drink;
Who his dear master's tomb to save,
Found in the Syrian sands his grave.
For your deep valleys far away
He fled the battle's distant fray,
Faint, weary, wounded, hither came
To slake the fever's cruel flame;
In Esk or Eden's shadowy stream
No more his dancing plumes shall gleam.
Through riven mail, and plated coat,
Him the Persian fauchion smote,
And the hot Moor, and Hagarene,
Pour'd, deep as death, their arrows keen.
No vassal in the tented field,
Remains his dying Lord to shield,
The visor's steely bars unlace,
Or loose the gorget's stern embrace.
Not one of all survives, to lay
The sacred sod, the requiem say,
Or o'er the dark Northumbrian plain,
To wake his warder's horn again.
Yet stretch'd along thy fatal shore,
Still his cross of red he wore,
Still bless'd that bearded hermit old,
Who bare his crosier-staff of gold:
And, shrin'd still in that faithful breast,
His dying lips the Sangreal prest.
Rich in their purple beauty lie;
Mountains at whose verdant feet
Lake and winding river meet;
Stream and brooklet warble there,
Bloom the banks of Jordan fair,
And his twin-divided stream
Flows to meet the morning beam.
Along Callirhoe's rock-girt vale
The cane-tuft flings it's foliage pale.
Down green Amana's rifted side
How fresh the sparkling waters glide;
While the amethystine bow
Spans the glittering wave below.
By Cherith's brook the raven feeds,
Fair Cedron hath her flowery meads.
Swept by the Seraph's golden wing
Still gleams Bethesda's sacred spring,
In the blue depth of Soreck's rill,
Still dips the bird it's little bill,
And by grey rock, and waving tree,
Still Siloah flows thy fountain free.
lxiii
Have your sacred waters roll'd,
Since bending o'er your flowery brink
The Christian warrior kneel'd to drink;
Who his dear master's tomb to save,
Found in the Syrian sands his grave.
For your deep valleys far away
He fled the battle's distant fray,
Faint, weary, wounded, hither came
To slake the fever's cruel flame;
In Esk or Eden's shadowy stream
No more his dancing plumes shall gleam.
Through riven mail, and plated coat,
Him the Persian fauchion smote,
And the hot Moor, and Hagarene,
Pour'd, deep as death, their arrows keen.
No vassal in the tented field,
Remains his dying Lord to shield,
The visor's steely bars unlace,
Or loose the gorget's stern embrace.
Not one of all survives, to lay
The sacred sod, the requiem say,
Or o'er the dark Northumbrian plain,
To wake his warder's horn again.
Yet stretch'd along thy fatal shore,
Still his cross of red he wore,
Still bless'd that bearded hermit old,
Who bare his crosier-staff of gold:
lxiv
His dying lips the Sangreal prest.
That sepulchral rock be shown,
Where the meek has lain him down,
And with mild eye to heaven inclin'd
There his earthly load resign'd.
See where round Bethlehem's humble thatch,
Sate, like bright stars, the angelic watch.
While far along the eastern road
New risen, the lamp of radiance glowed.
Fit temple for the Deity!
That lowly roof shall blessed be!
Him with loud Hosannah greet,
And beneath his hallow'd feet,
Rich garments strew, and boughs of pride
From the noble palm-tree's side.
Thee may the holy Paraclete
On dove-like wing descending meet.
Leave not unknown, each stone, or sod,
Where thy Saviour's footsteps trod;
When within it's mortal shrine
Moy'd the majesty divine;
Where on his Lord's confiding breast,
The lov'd disciple sank to rest,
Or in contemplation sweet
Sate thoughtful at his Master's feet,
With inward eye revolving still,
What the kindling heart might fill:
Or on the wings of faith and prayer,
It's ruin'd glories best repair;
And soon vouchsaf'd the heavenly grace,
Beam'd from that mild celestial face,
That now by Nain's widow'd walls,
To light, to life the dead recalls,
And o'er the silent chamber weeps
Where he the friend, the brother sleeps.—
Or where that sweet and virgin maid
In her pensive bosom laid
Motherly thoughts, and cares, and fears,
Of what reveal'd in ancient years,
By seer, or prophet, well might seem
The visions of a troubled dream:
Such as oft at midnight prest
Upon that pure, unstained breast,
Yet with hallow'd trust between,
And resignation meekly seen,
Till o'er the heavenly promis'd child
In tears of hope, and love she smil'd.
Rose of the Paraclete divine!
Sweet flower! what trembling thoughts were thine,
When with thee, a humble maid,
The incarnate spirit erst did shade
His crown of glory: to thee was given
Of the kindling breath of heaven;
In thy pure bosom from above
Waking the holy flame of love,
That now, fair flower, around thee plays
In circling crowns of sainted rays.
Where the meek has lain him down,
And with mild eye to heaven inclin'd
There his earthly load resign'd.
See where round Bethlehem's humble thatch,
Sate, like bright stars, the angelic watch.
While far along the eastern road
New risen, the lamp of radiance glowed.
Fit temple for the Deity!
That lowly roof shall blessed be!
Him with loud Hosannah greet,
And beneath his hallow'd feet,
Rich garments strew, and boughs of pride
From the noble palm-tree's side.
Thee may the holy Paraclete
On dove-like wing descending meet.
Leave not unknown, each stone, or sod,
Where thy Saviour's footsteps trod;
When within it's mortal shrine
Moy'd the majesty divine;
Where on his Lord's confiding breast,
The lov'd disciple sank to rest,
Or in contemplation sweet
Sate thoughtful at his Master's feet,
lxv
What the kindling heart might fill:
Or on the wings of faith and prayer,
It's ruin'd glories best repair;
And soon vouchsaf'd the heavenly grace,
Beam'd from that mild celestial face,
That now by Nain's widow'd walls,
To light, to life the dead recalls,
And o'er the silent chamber weeps
Where he the friend, the brother sleeps.—
Or where that sweet and virgin maid
In her pensive bosom laid
Motherly thoughts, and cares, and fears,
Of what reveal'd in ancient years,
By seer, or prophet, well might seem
The visions of a troubled dream:
Such as oft at midnight prest
Upon that pure, unstained breast,
Yet with hallow'd trust between,
And resignation meekly seen,
Till o'er the heavenly promis'd child
In tears of hope, and love she smil'd.
Rose of the Paraclete divine!
Sweet flower! what trembling thoughts were thine,
When with thee, a humble maid,
The incarnate spirit erst did shade
His crown of glory: to thee was given
Of the kindling breath of heaven;
lxvi
Waking the holy flame of love,
That now, fair flower, around thee plays
In circling crowns of sainted rays.
Pass Abarim thy mountains hoar,
And Dalmanutha's inland shore;
Let Samaria's sea-ward plain
Oft thy wand'ring feet detain:
On the mountains be thou free
Of the gales of Galilee.
Those flowery glens, and valleys sweet
Were trod by bright angelic feet;
Many a pure and holy guest
Oft their fragrant mantle prest:
On the green, and mossy bed
Meek wisdom lean'd the pensive head,
And where the eternal footsteps trod
Mute, trembling nature owns her God.
Ye aged towers of Solyma!
Thou ancient seat of sovereign sway!
Rich diadem of Judah's throne
Holding thy desart realm alone,
Say, why yon noontide shadow falls
Like night, upon thy ebon walls.
A veil of darkness o'er thee drawn,
A sable shroud that hides the dawn.
Why fades thy regal diadem
Thou heavenly-thron'd Hiërusalem!
Why droops thy pale, disceptred hand
Great queen of Jewry's ancient land.
Where is the promis'd crown decreed,
To Israel's faith, to Abraham's seed:
And why of hope, of help forlorn
Has sank the strength of Judah's horn?
And Dalmanutha's inland shore;
Let Samaria's sea-ward plain
Oft thy wand'ring feet detain:
On the mountains be thou free
Of the gales of Galilee.
Those flowery glens, and valleys sweet
Were trod by bright angelic feet;
Many a pure and holy guest
Oft their fragrant mantle prest:
On the green, and mossy bed
Meek wisdom lean'd the pensive head,
And where the eternal footsteps trod
Mute, trembling nature owns her God.
Ye aged towers of Solyma!
Thou ancient seat of sovereign sway!
Rich diadem of Judah's throne
Holding thy desart realm alone,
Say, why yon noontide shadow falls
Like night, upon thy ebon walls.
A veil of darkness o'er thee drawn,
A sable shroud that hides the dawn.
lxvii
Thou heavenly-thron'd Hiërusalem!
Why droops thy pale, disceptred hand
Great queen of Jewry's ancient land.
Where is the promis'd crown decreed,
To Israel's faith, to Abraham's seed:
And why of hope, of help forlorn
Has sank the strength of Judah's horn?
Is the sun with shrouded head
From the deserted Zodiac fled:
And his old Ecliptic leaves,
For which the world in darkness grieves?
Are the aged stars on high
Dimm'd in the pure etherial sky:
That night, with now unwonted sway,
Hath seiz'd the empty throne of day,
And in her dull and murky shade
His bright meridian glories fade.
Why with grief, and anger strook,
Their fiery wings have th'angels shook,
And the dread anatomy
In his fleshless tomb no more can lie?—
Alas! those bleeding brows behold
That the twisted thorns enfold.
Ah! mark! those hands in iron bound,
The limbs convulsed, the purple wound.
That darkening eye, that form divine
To death it's fainting soul resign.
Gor'd by the spear, that sacred side
Has stream'd with life's expiring tide.
And is that bare and branchless tree
Fit throne, thou Lord of might, for thee?
Ah! who shall now from foul despair
The bruis'd, the broken soul repair:
Who rise, our shepherd-prince away,
Defenceless Israel's staff and stay:
Shield from the boar thy sacred vine,
And save this scatter'd flock of thine?—
From the deserted Zodiac fled:
And his old Ecliptic leaves,
For which the world in darkness grieves?
Are the aged stars on high
Dimm'd in the pure etherial sky:
That night, with now unwonted sway,
Hath seiz'd the empty throne of day,
And in her dull and murky shade
His bright meridian glories fade.
Why with grief, and anger strook,
Their fiery wings have th'angels shook,
And the dread anatomy
In his fleshless tomb no more can lie?—
Alas! those bleeding brows behold
That the twisted thorns enfold.
Ah! mark! those hands in iron bound,
The limbs convulsed, the purple wound.
lxviii
To death it's fainting soul resign.
Gor'd by the spear, that sacred side
Has stream'd with life's expiring tide.
And is that bare and branchless tree
Fit throne, thou Lord of might, for thee?
Ah! who shall now from foul despair
The bruis'd, the broken soul repair:
Who rise, our shepherd-prince away,
Defenceless Israel's staff and stay:
Shield from the boar thy sacred vine,
And save this scatter'd flock of thine?—
Loud rushing to their destin'd goal
The deep, prophetic waters roll,
And the Iduméan throne
Veils in dark eclipse it's crown.
And see! betray'd, forsook, denied,
The God, the child of Bethlehem died.
Oh lost! oh ruin'd earth! e'en He
Thou gav'st to death, has died for thee.
Oh captive meek! oh sinless thrall!
Of Pilate's bar, of Herod's hall.
Oh! powers of darkness leagued below.
Oh unimaginable woe!
Alas! thou spotless sacrifice
No more to bless our gazing eyes.
Meek Lord of life! thy steps no more
Be seen on Salem's winding shore.
Nor thy mild lips in converse sweet
More inform our willing feet.
And ever must we part from thee,
Thou sole, sweet flower of Jesse's tree!
Thou latest hope, thou only one
Of Sion's lost, and ruin'd throne.
And fled, for ever fled, in death
Sleeps the man of Nazareth.
And set is Jacob's promis'd star,
Whose orient lights were hail'd afar;
From where morn builds her rosy nest
To the golden chambers of the west.
The grave's immortal prey at last,
Has the God eternal past;
And loos'd the star-embroider'd zone,
That bound the bright crystalline throne?
Must we too on the mountains mourn
The Prophet lost, the mantle torn.
Must we too cry—“farewell, farewell,
The chariots and the horse of Israel.”—
Was it for this, were set in vain
The seals of Judah's sainted reign.
Or when, with golden wings array'd,
Before the Galilæan maid,
Stood in splendent beauty bright
Like morn, an angel-form of light;
Bearing to the virgin flower
A branch from heaven's immortal bower,
While the adoring thrones above
Their starry foreheads bow'd in love.
Oh! back to Sion's once lov'd plain,
In deathless form return again!
Around thy guilty people fling
The shadows of thy gentle wing;
Oh! be to us, to man restor'd,
Immanuel, Shiloh, Sion's Lord,
The spotless Lamb, the incarnate Word.
The deep, prophetic waters roll,
And the Iduméan throne
Veils in dark eclipse it's crown.
And see! betray'd, forsook, denied,
The God, the child of Bethlehem died.
Oh lost! oh ruin'd earth! e'en He
Thou gav'st to death, has died for thee.
Oh captive meek! oh sinless thrall!
Of Pilate's bar, of Herod's hall.
Oh! powers of darkness leagued below.
Oh unimaginable woe!
Alas! thou spotless sacrifice
No more to bless our gazing eyes.
lxix
Be seen on Salem's winding shore.
Nor thy mild lips in converse sweet
More inform our willing feet.
And ever must we part from thee,
Thou sole, sweet flower of Jesse's tree!
Thou latest hope, thou only one
Of Sion's lost, and ruin'd throne.
And fled, for ever fled, in death
Sleeps the man of Nazareth.
And set is Jacob's promis'd star,
Whose orient lights were hail'd afar;
From where morn builds her rosy nest
To the golden chambers of the west.
The grave's immortal prey at last,
Has the God eternal past;
And loos'd the star-embroider'd zone,
That bound the bright crystalline throne?
Must we too on the mountains mourn
The Prophet lost, the mantle torn.
Must we too cry—“farewell, farewell,
The chariots and the horse of Israel.”—
Was it for this, were set in vain
The seals of Judah's sainted reign.
Or when, with golden wings array'd,
Before the Galilæan maid,
Stood in splendent beauty bright
Like morn, an angel-form of light;
lxx
A branch from heaven's immortal bower,
While the adoring thrones above
Their starry foreheads bow'd in love.
Oh! back to Sion's once lov'd plain,
In deathless form return again!
Around thy guilty people fling
The shadows of thy gentle wing;
Oh! be to us, to man restor'd,
Immanuel, Shiloh, Sion's Lord,
The spotless Lamb, the incarnate Word.
And where is He, whose form was seen
Sun-bright, in Eden's alleys green,
E'er with stern seraphic guard
And flaming sword, her gates were barr'd,
When from the eastern hills afar,
Evening's cool, and dewy star,
Brought up her new-awaken'd train;
Or whom by Mamre's later plain,
Or on Moriah's mount of fire
Knew the old Chaldean sire
Thrice call'd; or whom that chieftain pale
Met in Achor's holy vale,
In diamantine arms array'd,
Grasping the huge etherial blade,
Lord of the heavenly squadrons bright:—
And where, in starry robes of light,
Is the angel-form that stood,
By the green and myrtle wood,
Seated on his steed of flame
The incommunicable name.
Or that crown'd spirit, that alone
Sate upon his sapphire throne
By Chebar's flood in vision seen;
While bright Cherubic forms between,
With fiery orbs, and wheels of flame,
On their far-sounding pinions came.
And where, Lord of the earth, is He,
Who clad in golden panoply,
Met the warrior Maccabee?
Sun-bright, in Eden's alleys green,
E'er with stern seraphic guard
And flaming sword, her gates were barr'd,
When from the eastern hills afar,
Evening's cool, and dewy star,
Brought up her new-awaken'd train;
Or whom by Mamre's later plain,
Or on Moriah's mount of fire
Knew the old Chaldean sire
Thrice call'd; or whom that chieftain pale
Met in Achor's holy vale,
In diamantine arms array'd,
Grasping the huge etherial blade,
Lord of the heavenly squadrons bright:—
And where, in starry robes of light,
lxxi
By the green and myrtle wood,
Seated on his steed of flame
The incommunicable name.
Or that crown'd spirit, that alone
Sate upon his sapphire throne
By Chebar's flood in vision seen;
While bright Cherubic forms between,
With fiery orbs, and wheels of flame,
On their far-sounding pinions came.
And where, Lord of the earth, is He,
Who clad in golden panoply,
Met the warrior Maccabee?
Lost Harp of Judah! once again
Uplift the deep prophetic strain.
By thy old glory we intreat
The Temples vail, the Mercies' seat,
By those descending seraphs bright,
Who walk'd the radiant stairs of light,
Through the pure and marble air,
Spreading wide their golden hair,
Till the emerald mountains near
Glowed amid the sapphire sphere.
By him, the faithful one, who stood
Sole, beneath the groaning rood,
And home the virgin-mother led,
What time the affrighted brethren fled.
By him, whose eagle-eye reveal'd
The mystic volume angel-sealed;
When pass'd o'er Patmos' rocky throne
The shadows of the world unknown;
By those stars of glory bright
‘Rich sunbeams of the eternal light,’
Wing'd like the prophet's car of fire,
Wake to thy song the angelic choir.
Uplift the deep prophetic strain.
By thy old glory we intreat
The Temples vail, the Mercies' seat,
By those descending seraphs bright,
Who walk'd the radiant stairs of light,
Through the pure and marble air,
Spreading wide their golden hair,
Till the emerald mountains near
Glowed amid the sapphire sphere.
By him, the faithful one, who stood
Sole, beneath the groaning rood,
And home the virgin-mother led,
What time the affrighted brethren fled.
lxxii
The mystic volume angel-sealed;
When pass'd o'er Patmos' rocky throne
The shadows of the world unknown;
By those stars of glory bright
‘Rich sunbeams of the eternal light,’
Wing'd like the prophet's car of fire,
Wake to thy song the angelic choir.
Who “sunlike comes from Themanward,”
And from “Mount Paran forth appear'd,”
Whose sounding coursers' bickering flame
And thunderous necks his form proclaim.
And who in bright seraphic row
Stand within the emerald bow,
And on the golden altars praise
The ancient, of eternal days.
What crystal roofs are glittering bright
In the jaspar's orient light;
Where rose, or e'er the birth of time,
The empyrean seat sublime,
Beyond the diamond's kindling rays,
Beyond the fierce, and solar blaze.
What virgin spirits bending low
Down their crowns and glories throw,
Where bright flowers of Paradise
Fresh strewn, unfold their starry eyes.
And the sceptred ancientry
Swell the loud-enraptur'd cry,
And who on golden banks recline,
Aye hymning there the name divine;
By the angel-guarded throne
Where sit the Almighty Three—the One—
The Trinal Lord, supreme, alone.
And from “Mount Paran forth appear'd,”
Whose sounding coursers' bickering flame
And thunderous necks his form proclaim.
And who in bright seraphic row
Stand within the emerald bow,
And on the golden altars praise
The ancient, of eternal days.
What crystal roofs are glittering bright
In the jaspar's orient light;
Where rose, or e'er the birth of time,
The empyrean seat sublime,
Beyond the diamond's kindling rays,
Beyond the fierce, and solar blaze.
What virgin spirits bending low
Down their crowns and glories throw,
Where bright flowers of Paradise
Fresh strewn, unfold their starry eyes.
lxxiii
Swell the loud-enraptur'd cry,
And who on golden banks recline,
Aye hymning there the name divine;
By the angel-guarded throne
Where sit the Almighty Three—the One—
The Trinal Lord, supreme, alone.
Cease, cease the song, a humbler strain,
More meet for thee on Sion's plain.
Running brook and fountain clear,
Oft shall soothe thine evening ear.
The harps that hang on rock and tree,
Again shall wake their songs for thee,
Till the listening night look down
Stooping low her starry crown,
And the voice of Seraphim
In bright order seem to hymn;
Till a fairer paradise
Open to thy youthful eyes.
Far from the weight of earthly things
Lov'd spirit, spread thy bolder wings.
From the weary world of life,
And toil, and sorrow's endless strife,
From changeful, weak mortality,
Mounting to the stedfast sky.
Faith, that fearless still doth shine,
And peace, and simple truth be thine.
Brighter flowers be these, than found
E'er while in Eden's hallow'd ground;
Till in thy pure, and spotless breast,
Angels build their bower of rest,
And the God himself enshrin'd,
Dwell in the meek, and lowly mind.
More meet for thee on Sion's plain.
Running brook and fountain clear,
Oft shall soothe thine evening ear.
The harps that hang on rock and tree,
Again shall wake their songs for thee,
Till the listening night look down
Stooping low her starry crown,
And the voice of Seraphim
In bright order seem to hymn;
Till a fairer paradise
Open to thy youthful eyes.
Far from the weight of earthly things
Lov'd spirit, spread thy bolder wings.
From the weary world of life,
And toil, and sorrow's endless strife,
From changeful, weak mortality,
Mounting to the stedfast sky.
Faith, that fearless still doth shine,
And peace, and simple truth be thine.
lxxiv
E'er while in Eden's hallow'd ground;
Till in thy pure, and spotless breast,
Angels build their bower of rest,
And the God himself enshrin'd,
Dwell in the meek, and lowly mind.
ΤΩ ΘΕΩ ΔΟΞΑ.
| Sacred specimens, selected from the early English poets | |