Behold! behold! each gem-crown'd forehead proud.
And every plume and crested helm is bow'd,
Each high-arch'd vault along
Breaks out the blaze of song,
Belshazzar comes! nor Bel, when he returns
From riding on his stormy thunder-cloud,
To where his bright celestial palace burns,
Alights with loftier tread,
More full of stately dread,
Mightiest of the sons of man! The lion in his forest lair, The eagle in the fields of air, Amid the tumbling waves Leviathan, In power without or peer or mate, Hold their inviolable state: Alone Belshazzar stands on earth, Pre-eminent o'er all of human birth, Mightiest of the sons of man!
Richest of the sons of man!
For thee the mountains teem with gold, The spicy groves their bloom unfold, The bird of beauty bears its feathery fan, And amber paves the yellow seas, And spread the branching coral-trees, Nor shrouds the mine its deepest gem, Ambitious to adorn Belshazzar's diadem, Richest of the sons of man!
Fairest of the sons of man!
Tall as the cedar towers thine head,
And fleet and terrible thy tread,
As the strong coursers in the battle's van;
An Eden blooms upon thy face;
Like music, thy majestic grace
Holds the mute gazer's breath suppress'd, And makes a tumult in the wondering breast, Fairest of the sons of man!
Noblest of the sons of man!
The first a kingly rule that won,
Wide as the journey of the sun,
From Nimrod thine high-sceptred race began;
And gathering splendour still, went down
From sire to son the eternal crown,
Till full on great Belshazzar's crest
Its high meridian glory shone confest,-
Noblest of the sons of man!
Happiest of the sons of man!
In wine, in revel, and in joy
Was softly nursed the imperial boy;
His golden years like Indian rivers ran,
And every rapturous hour surpast
The glowing rapture of the last,
Even till the plenitude of bliss
I Did overflow and centre all in this,
Happiest of the sons of man!
Peace! peace! the king vouchsafes his gracious speech.
Sit ye like statues silent! ye have quaff'd
The liquid gladness of the blood-red wine,
And ye have eaten of the golden fruits
That the sun ripens but for kingly lips,
And now ye are about to feast your ears
With great Belshazzar's voice.
The crowded hall Suspense, and prescient of the coming joy,
While under his fix'd feet the loaded skies are bow'd. Is silent as the cloudless summer skies.
Oh ye, assembled Babylon! fair youths
And hoary Elders, Warriors, Counsellors,
And bright-eyed Women, down my festal board
Reclining! oh ye thousand living men,
Do ye not hold your charter'd breath from me?
And I can plunge your souls in wine and joy;
Or by a word, a look, dismiss you all
To darkness and to shame: yet, are ye not
Proud of the slavery that thus enthrals you?
What king, what ruler over subject man
Or was, or is, or shall be like Belshazzar!
I summon from their graves the sceptred dead
Of elder days, to see their shame. I cry
Unto the cloudy Past, unfold the thrones
That glorified the younger world: I call
To the dim Future-lift thy veil and show
The destined lords of human kind: they rise,
They bow their veil'd heads to the dust, and own
The throne whereon Chaldea's Monarch sits,
The height and pinnacle of human glory.
Oh Ancient Cities, o'er whose streets the grass
Is green, whose name hath wither'd from the face
Of earth! Oh ye by rich o'erflowing Nile,
Memphis, and hundred-gated Thebes-and thou,
Assyrian Nineveh, and ye golden towers
That redden o'er the Indian streams, what are ye
To Babylon-Eternal Babylon!
That's girt with bulwarks strong as adamant,
O'er whom Euphrates' restless waves keep watch,
That, like the high and everlasting Heavens,
Grows old, yet not less glorious? Yes, to you
I turn, oh azure-curtain'd palaces!
Whose lamps are stars, whose music, the sweet motion
Of your own spheres, in whom the banqueters
Are Gods, nor fear my Babylonian halls
Even with your splendours to compare.
I see your souls as jocund as mine own:
Pour in yon vessels of the Hebrews' God
Belshazzar's beverage-pour it high. Hear, earth!
Hear, Heaven! my proud defiance!
That taunted'st me but now-upon the wall There-there-it moves
Oh dark and bodiless hand,
What art thou-thus upon my palace wall
Gliding in shadowy, slow, gigantic blackness?
Lo! fiery letters, where it moves, break out:
"Tis there 't is gone :-'t is there again-no, nought
But those strange characters of flame, that burn
Upon the unkindled wall:-I cannot read them-
Can ye?
I see your quivering lips that speak not—
Sabaris-Arioch-Captains-Elders-all
As pale and horror-stricken as myself!
Are there no wiser? Call ye forth the Dreamers,
And those that read the stars, and every priest,
And he that shall interpret best shall wear
The scarlet robe and chain of gold, and sit
Third ruler of my realm. Away!-No-leave me not
To gaze alone ;-alone, on those pale signs
Of destiny-the unextinguishable,
The indelible--Strew, strew my couch where best
I may behold what sears my burning eyeballs
To gaze on-and the cold blood round my heart
To stand, like snow. No-ache mine eyes, and quiver
My palsied limbs-I cannot turn away-
Here am I bound as by thrice-linked brass,
Here, till the burthen of mine ignorance
Be from my loaded soul taken off, in silence
Deep as the midnight round a place of tombs.
The Summit of the Temple.
How long, O Lord! how long must I endure
Bring wine! This restlessness of danger?-I have wish'd
That even the worst were come, I am so sick
And weary with suspense: I have sate and gazed
Upon the silent moon, as she pursued
Her journey to yon blue celestial height.
Pilgrim of Heaven! the white translucent clouds,
Through which she wanders, fall away, nor leave
A taint upon her spotless orb: Shall I,
SABARIS, AND MANY VOICES.
O Lord! emerge in purity as stainless
The king! the king! look to the king! From the dark clouds that dim mine earthly course?
Where? I can see nor king nor people-nothing
But a bewildering, red, and gloom-like light
That swallows up the fiery canopy
Of lamps.
Hath blindness smitten thee?
But all things swim around me in a darkness That dazzles
And sometimes as a whispering sound came up,
Though but the voice of some light breathing wind
Along the stair, I felt my trembling heart,
And I grew guilty of a timorous doubt
In Him, whose guardian hand is o'er me.
Hark! all around-above-beneath-it bursts,
The long deep roll of—in yon cloudless skies:
It cannot be God's thunder, and the fires,
I know not; Blue as the sulphurous lightning, rise from earth,
Not Heaven. Oh madly impious! dare ye thus
Mimic the all-destroying arms that rage
Against the guilty? the vast temple shakes,
And all the clouded atmosphere is red
With the hell-born tempest-like to rushing chariots
Upon a stony way, like some vast forest
See, his shuddering joints are loosen'd, And his knees smite each other: such a face Is seen in tombs :-what means it?
BENINA. Till thou return'st
"Tis as he says!-nor sound, nor gleam of succour-I did not think that I could hear his tread, Thy bride-oh, Adonijah!--ah, no bride
His angry tread, with such a deep delight.
Of thine!-lost-lost to thee-would 't were by death! Oh! my fond parents! when we meet again,
Is't for the sin of loving thee too fondly
I am deserted!-Spare me, Man of Terror,
And prayers for thee (they say, God loves the prayers
Of the undefiled) shall rise as constantly
As summer-dews at eve.
Now louder! louder! Let there be triumph in your martial sounds.
Oh God! oh God! I have condemn'd myself,
And fallen from the faith. Ah, not for me!
For thine own glory suffer not the Heathen
To boast of-Ha!-all silence, and all gloom-
I tremble-but he trembles too—
Slaves, wherefore have ye quench'd mine earthly light, And still'd my storm?
We shall not meet with strange, averted looks:
Ye will not, in sad pity, take me back
A shamed and blighted child to your cold bosoms.
And thou, betroth'd, beloved-I shall endure
To stand before thy face, nor wish the earth
To shroud me from thine unreproaching gaze;
For were I all I fear'd, thou hadst ne'er reproach'd
me!
And oh, sweet Siloe! oh, my fathers' land!
Land where the feet may wander where they will-
Land where the heart may love without a fear!
I feel that I shall tread thee; for the Lord
Pours not his mercies in a sparing measure.
This is the earnest of his love-the seal
With which he marks us for his own, his blest,
His ransom'd! Oh! fair Zion, lift thou up
Thy crown, that glitters to the morning Sun!
They come-thy lost, thy banish'd children come -
And thy streets rise to sounds of melody!
The Hall of Banquet, with the Fiery Letters on the Art like the rest, and gazest on thy fellows
He hath sate, with eyes that strive to grow familiar
With those red characters of fire: but still
The agony of terror hath not pass'd
From his chill frame. But, if a word, a step,
A motion, from those multitudes reclined
Down each long festal board; the bursting string
Of some shrill instrument; or even the wind,
Whispering amid the plumes and shaking lamps,
Disturb him-by some mute, imperious gesture,
Or by his brow's stern anger, he commands
All the vast halls to silence.
Did ye not observe him,
When his hand fell upon the all-ruling sceptre,
The bitter and self-mocking laugh that pass'd
O'er his pale cheek?
In blank and sullen ignorance.-Spurn them forth!
Ye wise! ye learned! ye with Fate's mysteries
Entrusted! Spurn, I say, and trample on them!
Let them be outcast to the scorn of slaves!
Let children pluck their beards, and every voice
Hoot at them as they pass!
This is thy palace now! No throne, no couch
Beseems the King, whose doom is on his walls
Emblazed-yet whose vast empire finds not one
Whose faithful love can show its mystic import!
Low on the dust, upon the pavement stone,
Belshazzar takes his rest!-Ye hosts of slaves,
Behold your King! the Lord of Babylon!—
Speak not-for he that speaks, in other words
But to expound those fiery characters,
Shall ne'er speak more!
As thou didst give command,
My son, I'm here to see the all-glorious feast
That shames the earth, and copes with Heaven.
Great Powers.
Is't thus? Oh! look not with that mute reproach,
More terrible than anger, on thy mother!
Oh, pardon my rash taunts!-my son! my son!
Thou art but now the beauteous, smiling child,
That from my bosom drank the flowing life;
By whom I've pass'd so many sleepless nights
His lips move, but he speaks not! In deeper joy than slumber e'er could give!
The sole refreshment of my weary spirit
To gaze on thee!-Alas! 't was all my crime:—
They are here:-the Priests and Seers; I gave to thy young lips the mantling cup Their snowy garments sweep the Hall.
He motions them to advance and to retreat
At once-and pants, yet shudders, to demand
Their answer.
Oh! Chaldea's worshipp'd Sages-
Oh! men of wisdom, that have pass'd your years-
Your long and quiet, solitary years,
In tracing the dim sources of th' events
That agitate this world of man-oh! ye
That in the tongues of every clime discourse;
Ye that hold converse with the eternal stars,
And in their calm prophetic courses, read
The destinies of empires; ye whose dreams
Are throng'd with the predestined images
Of things that are to be; to whom the Fates
Unfold their secret councils; to whose sight
The darkness of Futurity withdraws,
And one vast Present fills all Time-behold
Yon burning characters! and read, and say
Why the dark Destinies have hung their sentence
Thus visible to the sight, but to the mind
Unsearchable?-Ye have heard the rich reward;
And I but wait to see whose neck shall wear
The chain of glory—
Ha! each pale fallen lip
Voiceless! and each upon the other turns
His wan and questioning looks.—Kalassan! thou
Of luxury and pride; I taught thee first
That the wide earth was made for thee, and man
Born for thy uses!
Find me who will read it, And thou wilt give me, then, a life more precious Than that I once received of thee.
I saw him as I pass'd along the courts,
The Hebrew, that, when visions of the night
Shook the imperial soul of Nabonassar,
Like one to whom the dimly-peopled realms
Of sleep were clear as the bright noontide Heavens,
Spake
With the speed of lightning call him hither. No more, my mother-till he comes, no more.
King of the world, he's here.
Not yet! not yet!
Delay him! hold him back!-My soul's not strung
To the dire knowledge.
Up the voiceless hall
He moves; nor doth the white and ashen fear,
That paints all faces, change one line of his.
Audacious slave! walks he erect and firm,
When kings are grovelling on the earth?-Give
place!
Why do ye crowd around him? Back! I say. Is your king heard-or hath he ceased to rule?
Alas! my son, fear levels kings and slaves
Art thou that Daniel of the Hebrew race,
In whom the excellence of wisdom dwells
As in the Gods? I have heard thy fame ;-behold
Yon mystic letters, flaming on the wall,
That, in the darkness of their fateful import,
Baffle the wisest of Chaldea's sages!
Read, and interpret; and the satrap robe
Of scarlet shall invest thy limbs; the chain
Of gold adorn thy neck; and all the world
Own thee third ruler of Chaldea's realm!
Belshazzar, be thy gifts unto thyself,
And thy rewards to others. I, the servant
Of God, will read God's writing to the King.
The Lord of Hosts to thy great Ancestor,
To Nabonassar, gave the all-ruling sceptre
O'er all the nations, kingdoms, languages;
Lord paramount of life and death, he slew
Where the cold cypress shades our Fathers' tombs,
And grow familiar with the abode of Death?
And yet how calm, how fragrant, how serene
The night! When empires fall, and Fate thrusts
down
The monarchs from their ancient thrones, 't is said,
The red stars meet, with ominous, hostile fires;
And the dark vault of Heaven flames all across
With meteors; and the conscious earth is rock'd;
And foaming rivers burst their shores! But now,
Save in my soul, there is no prescient dread :—
Nought but my fear-struck brow is dark and sad,
All sleeps in moonlight silence: ye can wave,
Oh happy gardens! in the cool night airs
Your playful branches; ye can rise to Heaven,
And glitter, my unconscious palace-towers;
No gliding hand, no Prophet's voice, to you
Hath rent the veil that hides the awful future!
Well, we'll go rest once more on kingly couches,
My mother, and we'll wake and feel that earth
Still trembles at our nod, and see the slaves
Reading their fate in our imperial looks!
And then-and then-Ye Gods! that I had still
Nought but my shuddering and distracting fears;
Where'er he will'd; and where he will'd men lived; That those dread letters might resume once more
His word exalted, and his word debased;
And so his heart swell'd up; and, in its pride,
Arose to Heaven! But then the Lord of earth
Became an outcast from the sons of men-
Companion of the browsing beasts! the dews
Of night fell cold upon his crownless brow,
And the wild asses of the desert fed
Round their unenvied peer! And so he knew
That God is Sovereign o'er earth's sceptred Lords.
But thou, his son, unwarn'd, untaught, untamed,
Belshazzar, hast arisen against the Lord,
And in the vessels of his house hast quaff'd
Profane libations, 'mid thy slaves and women,
To gods of gold, and stone, and wood; and laugh'd
The King of Kings, the God of Gods, to scorn.
Now hear the words, and hear their secret meaning-
“Number'd!" twice "Number'd! Weigh'd! Divided!" King,
Thy reign is number'd, and thyself art weigh'd,
And wanting in the balance, and thy realm
Sever'd, and to the conquering Persian given!
What vengeance will he wreak? The pit of lionsThe stake
Go-lead the Hebrew forth, array'd
In the proud robe, let all the city hail
The honour'd of Belshazzar. Oh! not long
Will that imperial name command your awe!
And, oh! ye bright and festal halls, whose vaults
Were full of sweet sounds as the summer groves,
Must ye be changed for chambers, where no tone
Of music sounds, nor melody of harp,
Or lute, or woman's melting voice?-My mother!-
And how shall we two meet the coming ruin?
In arms! thou say'st; but with what arms, to front
The Invisible, that in the silent air
Wars on us? Shall we seek some place of silence,
Their dark and unintelligible brightness;
Or that 't were o'er, and I and Babylon
Were-what a few short days or hours will make us
THE DESTROYING ANGEL.
The hour is come! the hour is come! With voice
Heard in thy inmost soul, I summon thee,
Cyrus, the Lord's anointed! And thou River,
That flow'st exulting in thy proud approach
To Babylon, beneath whose shadowy walls
And brazen gates, and gilded palaces,
And groves, that gleam with marble obelisks,
Fretted and chequer'd like the starry heavens:
Thy azure bosom shall repose, with lights
I do arrest thee in thy stately course,
By Him that pour'd thee from thine ancient fountain,
And sent thee forth, even at the birth of Time,
One of his holy streams, to lave the mounts
Of Paradise. Thou hear'st me: thou dost check
Abrupt thy waters, as the Arab chief
His headlong squadrons. Where the unobserved
Yet toiling Persian breaks the ruining mound,
I see thee gather thy tumultuous strength;
And, through the deep and roaring Naharmalcha, (8)
Roll on, as proudly conscious of fulfilling
The Omnipotent command! While, far away.
The lake, that slept but now so calm, nor moved
Save by the rippling moonshine, heaves on high
Its foaming surface, like a whirlpool gulf,
And boils and whitens with the unwonted tide.
But silent as thy billows used to flow,
And terrible the hosts of Elam move,
Winding their darksome way profound, where man
Ne'er trod, nor light e'er shone, nor air from Heav'n
Breathed. Oh! ye secret and unfathom'd depths,
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