University of Virginia Library

1. PART I.

SCENE, Near the Palace of Babylon.
DANIEL, and captive JEWS.
DANIEL.
Parent of life and light! sole source of good!
Whose tender mercies thro' the tide of time,
In long successive order, have sustain'd,
And sav'd the sons of Israel! Thou, whose pow'r,
Deliver'd righteous Noah from the flood,
The whelming flood, the grave of human kind!
Oh Thou! whose guardian care, and out-stretch'd hand,
Rescued young Isaac from the lifted arm,
Rais'd, at thy bidding, to devote a son,
An only son, doom'd by his sire to die.
(Oh, saving Faith, by such obedience prov'd!
Oh blest obedience, hallow'd thus by faith!)
Thou, who in mercy sav'dst the chosen race,
In the wild desert, and did'st there sustain them,
By wonder-working love, tho' they rebell'd,
And murmur'd at the miracles that sav'd them!
Oh, hear thy servant Daniel! hear, and help!
Thou! whose almighty pow'r did after raise
Successive leaders to defend our race;
Who sentest valiant Joshua to the field,
Thy people's champion, to the conq'ring field,
Where the revolving planet of the night,
Suspended in her radiant round was stay'd,
And the bright sun, arrested in his course,
Stupendously stood still!

Chorus of JEWS.

DANIEL.
Oh Thou! who, when thy discontented host,
Tir'd of Jehovah's rule, desir'd a king,
In anger gav'st them Saul, and then again
Didst wrest the regal sceptre from his hand
To give it David—David, best belov'd!
Illustrious David! Poet, prophet, king!
Thou, who didst suffer Solomon his son,
To build a glorious temple to thy name,
Oh hear thy servants, and forgive them too,
If, by severe necessity compell'd,
We worship here—we have no temple now;
Altar or sanctuary, none is left.

Chorus of JEWS.

DANIEL.
Yes, thou art ever present, Pow'r supreme!
Not circumscrib'd by time, nor fix'd to space,
Confin'd to altars, nor to temples bound.
In wealth, in want, in freedom or in chains,
In dungeons or on thrones, the faithful find thee!
Ev'n in the burning cauldron thou wast near
To Shadrach and the holy brotherhood:
The unhurt martyrs bless'd thee in the flames;
They sought, and found thee; call'd, and thou wast there.

First JEW.
How chang'd our state! Judah! thy glory's fall'n.
Thy joys for hard captivity exchang'd;
And thy sad sons breathe the polluted air
Of Babylon, where deities obscene
Insult the living God; and to his servants,
The priests of wretched idols, made with hands,
Shew contumelious scorn.

DANIEL.
'Tis Heav'n's high will.

Second JEW.
If I forget thee, O Jerusalem!
If I not fondly cherish thy lov'd image,
Ev'n in the giddy hour of thoughtless mirth;
If I not rather view thy prostrate walls
Than haughty Babylon's imperial tow'rs.
Then may my tongue refuse to frame the strains
Of sweetest harmony, my rude right-hand
Forget, with sounds symphonious, to accord
The harp of Jesse's son, to Sion's songs.

First JEW.
Oft, on Euphrates' ever verdant banks,
Where drooping willows form a mournful shade;
With all the pride which prosp'rous fortunes give,
And all th' unfeeling mirth of happy men,
Th' insulting Babylonians ask a song;
Such songs as erst in better days were sung
By Korah's sons, or heav'n-taught Asaph set
To loftiest measures; then our bursting hearts
Feel all their woes afresh; the galling chain
Of bondage crushes then the free-born soul
With wringing anguish; from the trembling lip
Th' unfinish'd cadence falls, and the big tear,
While it relieves, betrays the woe-fraught soul.
For who can view Euphrates' pleasant stream,
Its drooping willows, and its verdant banks,
And not, to wounded memory recal
The piny groves of fertile Palæstine,
The vales of Solyma, and Jordan's stream?

DANIEL.
Firm faith and deep submission to high Heav'n,
Will teach us to endure, without a murmur,
What seems so hard. Think what the holy host
Of patriarchs, saints, and prophets, have sustain'd
In the blest cause of Truth! And shall not we,
O men of Judah! dare what these have dar'd,
And boldly pass thro' the refining fire
Of fierce affliction? Yes, be witness, Heav'n!
Old as I am, I will not shrink at death,
Come in what shape it may, if God so will,
By peril to confirm and prove my faith.
Oh! I wou'd dare yon' den of hungry lions,
Rather than pause to fill the task assign'd,
By wisdom infinite. Nor think I boast,
Not in myself, but in thy strength I trust,
Spirit of God!

First JEW.
Prophet! thy words support,
And raise our sinking souls.

DANIEL.
Behold yon' palace,
Where proud Belshazzar keeps his wanton court!
I knew it once beneath another lord,
His grandsire , who subdued Jehoiachin,
And hither brought sad Judah's captive tribes;
Together with the rich and sacred relics
Of our fam'd temple; all the holy treasure,
The golden vases, and the sacred cups,
Which grac'd, in happier times, the sanctuary.

Second JEW.
May he, to whose blest use they were devoted,
Preserve them from pollution, and once more,
In his own gracious time, restore the temple!

DANIEL.
I, with some favour'd youths of Jewish race,
Was lodg'd in his own palace, and instructed
In all the various learning of the east:
But he, on whose great name our fathers call'd,
Preserv'd us from the perils of a court;
And warn'd us to avoid the tempting cates
Pernicious lux'ry offer'd to our taste.
Fell luxury! more perilous to youth
Than storms or quicksands, poverty or chains.

Second JEW.
He who can guard 'gainst the low baits of sense,
Will find Temptation's arrows hurtless strike
Against the brazen shield of Temperance.
For 'tis th' inferior appetites enthrall
The man, and quench th' immortal light within him;
The senses take the soul an easy prey,
And sink th' imprison'd spirit into brute.

DANIEL.
Twice , by the Spirit of God, did I expound
The visions of the king; his soul was touch'd,
And twice did he repent, and prostrate fall
Before the God of Daniel: yet again,
Pow'r, flatt'ry, and prosperity, undid him.
When from the lofty ramparts of his palace,
He view'd the splendors of the royal city,
That magazine of wealth, which proud Euphrates,
Wafts from each distant corner of the earth;
When he beheld the adamantine towers,
The brazen gates, the bulwarks of his strength,
The pendent gardens, art's stupendous work,
The wonder of the world!—The proud Chaldean,
Mad with the insolence of boundless wealth,
And pow'r supreme, conceiv'd himself a God.
“This mighty Babylon is mine,” he cried,
“My wondrous pow'r, my godlike arm atchiev'd it.
I scorn submission, own no deity
Above my own.”—While the blasphemer spoke,
The wrath of Heav'n inflicted instant vengeance;
Stripp'd him of that bright reason he abus'd,
And drove him from the cheerful haunts of men,
A naked, wretched, helpless, senseless thing;
Companion of the brutes, his equals now.

First JEW.
Nor does his impious grandson, proud Belshazzar,
Fall short of his offences; nay, he wants
The valiant spirit, and the active soul,
Of his progenitor: for Pleasure's slave,
Though bound in flow'ry fetters, silky-soft,
Is more subdued, than is the casual victim
Of furious rage, and violent ambition.
Ambition is a fierce, but short-liv'd fire;
But Pleasure with a constant flame consumes.
War slays her thousands; but destructive Pleasure,
More fell, more fatal, her ten thousands slays:
The young, luxurious king she fondly wooes
In every shape of am'rous blandishment;
With adulation smooth ensnares his soul,
With love betrays him, and with wine inflames.
She strews her magic poppies o'er his couch,
And with delicious opiates charms him down,
In fatal slumbers bound. Though Babylon
Is now invested by the warlike troops
Of the young Cyrus, Persia's valiant prince,
Who, in conjunction with the Median king,
Darius, fam'd for conquest, now prepares
To storm the city: not th' impending horrors
Which ever wait a siege, have power to wake
To thought, or sense, th' intoxicated king.

DANIEL.
Ev'n in this night of universal dread,
A mighty army threat'ning at the gates;
This very night, as if in scorn of danger,
The dissolute Belshazzar holds a feast
Magnificently impious, meant to honour
Belus, the fav'rite Babylonish idol.
Lewd parasites compose his wanton court,
Whose impious flatt'ries soothe his monstrous crimes;
They justify his vices, and extol
His boastful phrase, as if he were some god.
Whate'er he says, they say; what he commands,
Implicitly they do; they echo back
His blasphemies, with shouts of loud acclaim;
And when he wounds the tortur'd ear of Virtue,
They cry, All hail! Belshazzar live for ever!
To-night a thousand nobles fill his hall,
Princes, and all the dames who grace the court;
All but the virtuous queen, sage Nitocris;
Ah! how unlike the impious king her son!
She never mingles in the midnight fray,
Nor crowns the guilty banquet with her presence.
The royal fair is rich in every virtue
Which can adorn the queen, or grace the woman.
But for the wisdom of her prudent counsels
This wretched empire had been long undone.
Not fam'd Semiramis, Assyria's pride,
Cou'd boast a brighter mind, or firmer soul,
Beneath the gentle reign of Merodach,
Her royal lord, our nation tasted peace.
Our captive monarch, sad Jehoiachin,
Grown grey in a close prison's horrid gloom,
He freed from bondage, brought the hoary king
To taste once more the long-forgotten sweets
Of precious liberty, and cheerful light;
Pour'd in his wounds the lenient balm of kindness,
And bless'd his settting hour of life with peace.

[Sound of trumpets is heard at a distance.
First JEW.
That sound proclaims the banquet is begun.

Second JEW.
Hark! the licentious uproar grows more loud.
The vaulted roof resounds with shouts of mirth,
And the firm palace shakes! Retire, my friends;
This madness is not meet for sober ears.
If any of our race were found so near,
'Twou'd but expose us to the rude attack
Of ribaldry obscene, and impious jests,
From these mad sons of Belial, now inflam'd
To deeds of riot from the wanton feast.

DANIEL.
Here part we then! but when again to meet,
Who knows save Heav'n? Yet, O, my friends! I feel
An impulse more than human stir my breast.
Rapt in prophetic vision, I behold
Things hid as yet from mortal sight. I see
The dart of vengeance tremble in the air,
E're long to pierce the impious king. Ev'n now
The fierce, destroying angel stalks abroad,
And brandishes aloft the two-edg'd sword
Of retribution keen; he soon will strike,
And Babylon shall weep as Sion wept.
Pass but a little while, and you shall see
This queen of cities prostrate on the earth.
This haughty mistress of the kneeling world,
How shall she sit dishonour'd in the dust,
In tarnish'd pomp and solitary woe!
How shall she shroud her glories in the dark,
And in opprobrious silence hide her head!
Lament, O virgin daughter of Chaldea!
For thou shalt fall, imperial queen! shalt fall!
No more Sidonian robes shall grace thy limbs.
To purple garments, sackcloth shall succeed;
And sordid dust and ashes shall supply
The od'rous nard and cassia. Thou, who said'st,
I am, and there is none beside me: thou,
Ev'n thou, imperial Babylon! shalt fall:
Thy glory quite eclips'd! The pleasant sound
Of viol and of harp, shall charm no more;
Nor song of Syrian damsels shall be heard,
Responsive to the lute's luxurious note.
But the hoarse bittern's cry, the raven's croak,
The bat's fell scream, the lonely owl's dull plaint,
And every hideous bird with ominous shriek,
Shall scare affrighted Silence from thy walls.
While Desolation, snatching from the hand
Of Time the scythe of ruin, sits aloft,
In dreadful majesty and horrid pomp;
Glancing with sullen pride thy crumbling tow'rs,
Thy broken battlements, and columns fall'n;
Then, pointing to the mischiefs she has made,
The fiend exclaims, This once was Babylon!