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Hath bless'd me; from the very festal garments,
IMAH. That glitter'd in my halls, they shake the dust : My Father's God, thou show'dst thyself of old, Ev'n the priests spurn'd me, as abhorrid of Heaven. By smiting water from the stony rock, Oh! but the fiery Mede doth well avenge me! And raining manna on the desert sands! They're strew'd beneath my feet — though not in Here is thy best-most gracious miracle! worship!
Making the childless heart to laugh with gladness ; Oh death! death! death! that art so swift to seize The eyes that had forgot to weep o'erflow The conqueror on his triumph day, the bride With tears delicious! Thou hast raised the dead, Ere yet her wedding lamps have waned, the king And to the widow given her shrouded child ! Where all mankind are kneeling at his footstool But what was that pale boy to her that stands Thou 'rt only slow to him that knows himself So beautiful before us? What was death Thy fated prey, that seeks within the tomb
To her dark trial? And she's here—and life
How camest thou bither?
Ask of him that led me Of all his realm, not even a grave!-so base, Of him—that all but I seem to have forgotten. That even the conquering Mede disdains to slay him!
Resuming to myself the boon that now
They have no time to thank me for-What's he,
That rushes where proud War disdains to spoil?
To sounds of music. Round his limbs, that shake Naomni! Naomi! look forth-she's here!
And quiver, as with pain, he wraps his robes,
Like one men wont to gaze on. Even despair I know she is—in dreams: through all the night
On such a brow looks noble !-Hark! he speaks
The above, BELSHAZZAR.
My life-blood. 'Mid the base abode of slaves
I seem to stand: not here—my fathers set To see-all heav'n on fire, and the vast city
Like suns in glory! I'll not perish here, Imlah! what mean those massy clouds of smoke, And stifle like some vile, forgotten lamp! Those shrieks and clashings? — and — that youth Oh, dreadful God! is 't not enough ?—My state and maid,
I equall'd with the Heavens—and wilt thou trample Why stand they there ? we need no sad remembran
Beneath these-What are ye that crowd around me? Of our deep desolation !
I have a dim remembrance of your forms
And voices. Are ye not the slaves that stood
This morn before me! and-
Thou spurn'dst us from thee.
BELSHAZZAR. No! no! ye can no more delude me! Twice have I woken, and heard that voice, and And ye 'll revenge you on the clay-cold corpse. stretch'd
Fear not: our God, and this world's cruel usage, My arms —
Have taught us early what kings learn too late.
Ye know me, then-ye know the King of BabylonAs thus, thy child, thy lost, thy loved Benina !
The King of dust and ashes ? for what else NAOMI. 'Tis living flesh! it is a breathing lip!
Is now the beauteous city-earth's delight?
And what the King himself but-dust and ashes ?
Mine eyes are heavy, and a swoon, a sleep
Dear mother, Swims o'er my head :-go, summon me the lutes, May I ne'er cost thee bitterer tears than these That used to soothe me to my balmiest slumbers,
And bid the snowy-handed maidens fan
And nestle his young cheek in this full bosom,
That now he shrinks from! No! it is the last
Wait,wait, and I will die with thee-not yetThat the birds bear. Slaves! hear ye not? – 't is. Alas! yet this was what I pray'd for-thiscold
To kiss thy cold cheek, and inhale thy last-'Tis piercing cold
Thy dying breath.
Behold! behold, they rise ;
Yon blaze, that seems as if the earth and heaven A strange, sad use for robes of sovereignty.
Were mingled in one ghastly funeral pile.
Aroused them? Lo, the flames, like a gorged serpent The above, NiTOCRIS.
That slept in glittering but scarce-moring folds,
Now, having sprung a nobler prey, break out
In tenfold rage.
How like a lioness,
Robb’d of her kingly brood, she glares! She wipes Oh! mercifully cruel, they do slay
From her wan brow the grey discolourd locks
Where used to gleam Assyria's diadem;
She clasps, as self-reproachful that aught earthly A desperate hope to mingle my cold ashes !
Distracts her from her one maternal care. "T is all the daughter of great Nabonassar Hath now to ask !—I 'll sit me down and listen,
More pole, and more inteni, he looks abroad And through that turbulent din of clattering steel,
Into the ruin, as though he felt a pride And cries of murder'd men, and smouldering houses, Even in the splendour of the desolation! And th' answering trumpets of the Mede and Persian, Summoning their bands to some new work of slaugh- The hand — the unbodied hand – it moves
- look ter,
there! Anon one universal cry of triumph Will burst; and all the city, either host,
Look where it points !-my beautiful palaceIn mute and breathless admiration, lie
The Temple of great Bel-
Our halls of joy!
Ay, o'er both the fire Mounts like a conqueror: here, o'er spacious courts My son!
And avenues of pillars, and long roofs, On the cold earth-not there, but on my bosom From which red streams of molten gold pour down Alas! that's colder still. My beauteous boy, It spreads, till all, like those vast fabrics, seem Look up and see
Built of the rich clouds round the setting sun
All the wide heavens, one bright and shadowy pat I can see nought-all's darkness ! ace!
But terrible here—th' Almighty's wrathful hand Too true: he 'll die, and will not know me! Son! Every where manifest !—There the Temple stands, Thy mother speaks—thy only kindred Aesh,
Tower above tower, one pyramid of flame; That loved thee ere thou wert; and, when thou 'rt To which those kingly sepulchres by Nile gone,
Were but as hillocks to vast Caucasus ! Will love thee still the more !
Aloof, the wreck of Nimrod's impious tower
Alone is dark; and something like a cloud,
Have dying kings But gloomier, hovers o'er it. All is mute: Lovers or kindred? Hence! disturb me not. Man's cries, and clashing steel, and braying trumpet NITOCRIS.
The only sound the rushing noise of fire ! Shall I disturb thee, crouching by thy side
Now, hark! the universal crash-at once To die with thee? Oh! how he used to turn They fall-they sink
See Herodotus, Clio.
And so do those that ruled them!
Oh, God of hosts ! Almighty, everlasting!
or Nabonagsar's sway. " Nebuchadnessar-Nabonassar-Ce nom est confondu par les Orientaux avec celui de Nabocadnassar, quoique les Grecs et les Latins les distinguent."
D' Herbclot, Bibl, Orientale.
The Fall of Jerusalem;
A DRAMATIC POEM.
the Galilean was that of excessive sensuality, I have
therefore considered him as belonging to the sect of Every reader will at once perceive from the nature the Sadducees ; Simon, on the other hand, I have reof the interest, and from the language, that this drama presented as a native of Jerusalem, and a strict Phawas neither written with a view to public represent- risee ; although his soldiers were chiefly Edomites. ation, nor can be adapted to it without being entirely The Christians, we learn from Eusebius, abandoned re-modelled and re-written. The critic will draw the the city previous to the siege (by divine command, same conclusion from certain peculiarities in the com. according to that author,) and took refuge in Pella, a position, irreconcileable with the arrangements of the small town on the further side of the Jordan. The theatre; the introducing and dismissing of the subor. constant tradition of the Church has been, that no one dinate characters after a single appearance ; and yet professing that faith perished during all the havoc appropriating to them some of the most poetical which attended on this most awful visitation. speeches.
It has been my object also to show the full compleThe groundwork of the poem is to be found in tion of prophecy in this great event; nor do I conceive Josephus, but the events of a considerable time are that the public mind (should this poem merit attention) compressed into a period of about thirty-six hours. can be directed to so striking and so incontestable an Though their children are fictitious characters, the evidence of the Christian faith without advantage. leaders of the Jews, Simon, John, and Eleazar, are Those whom duty might not induce to compare the historical. At the beginning of the siege the defend long narrative of Josephus with the Scriptural preers of the city were divided into three factions. John, diction of the “Abomination of Desolation,” may be however, having surprised Eleazar, who occupied the tempted by the embellishments of poetic language Temple, during a festival, the party of Eleazar became and the interest of a dramatic fable. subordinate to that of John. The character of John
| Daughters of Simon.
They turn their civil weapons on themselves,
The hideous consummation.
It must be TIBERIUS ALEXANDER.
And yet it moves me, Romans! it confounds TERENTIUS Rufus.
The counsels of my firm philosophy, Diagoras, a Stoic philosopher.
That Ruin's merciless ploughshare must pass o'er,
As on our olive-crowned hill we stand,
Where Kedron at our feet its scanty waters
Distils from stone to stone with gentle motion, John, the Tyrant.
As through a valley sacred 10 sweet peace, ELEAZAR, the Zealot.
How boldly doth it front us! how majestically! AMARIAH, Son of John.
Like a luxurious vineyard, the hill side The High-PRIEST.
Is hung with marble fabrics, line o'er line, Ben Catala, Leader of the Edomites.
Terrace o'er terrace, nearer still, and nearer AARON, a Levite.
To the blue heavens. Here bright and sumptuous Abiram, a fulse Prophet.
palaces, Many Jews.
With cool and verdant gardens interspersed; Javan, a Christian, by birth a Jew.
Here towers of war that frown in massy strength. MIRIAM,
While over all hangs the rich purple eve,
As conscious of its being her last farewell
And, as our clouds of battle dust and smoke
Are melted into air, behold the Temple,
In undisturb'd and lone serenity
Finding itself a solemn sanctuary
A mount of snow frelied with golden pinnacles! (2)
The very sun, as though he worshipp'd there,
Lingers upon the gilded cedar roofs ; ADVANCE the eagles, Caius Placidus, (1)
And down the long and branching porticoes, Even to the walls of this rebellious city!
On every flowery-sculptured capital, What! shall our bird of conquest, that hath flown
Glitters the homage of his parting beams. Over the world, and built her nest of glory
By Hercules! the sight might almost win Even in the palace tops of prondest kings,
The offended majesty of Rome to mercy.
Wondrous indeed it is, great Son of Cæsar,
But it shall be more wondrous, when the triumph
Of Titus marches through those brazen gates,
To worship in the precincts of her Temple,
As he in laurellid pomp is borne along
To that new palace of his pride.
It cannot be
What cannot be, which Rome
Commands, and Titus, the great heir of Rome!
I tell thee, Alexander, it must fall!
And they must feel our wrath, the wrath of Rome;
Even so that the rapt stranger shall admire
Thy brethren of the Porch, imperial Titus, (3) They cast their lives upon our swords; by night Of late esteem'd thee at the height of those
That with consummate wisdom have tamed down
But, Placidus, I read thy look severe. This is no time nor place for school debates On the high points of wisdom. Let this night Our wide encircling walls complete their circuit; (4) And still the approaching trenches closer mine Their secret way: the engines and the lowers Stand each at their appointed post—Terentius, That charge be thine.
Rejoicing at the blessings that thou bearest.
Even with such rare and singular purity
Oh! how dost thou, beloved proselyte
nights I've watch'd for thee in vain, and have not felt The music of thy footsteps on my spirit —
VOICE AT A DISTANCE.
Hast thou brought me Thy wonted offerings?
Dearest, they are here:
There spoke again the Roman.
The Fountain of Siloe.-Night.
Sweet fountain, once again I visit thee!(6)
Bless thee !-Oh my father!