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And yet thou shouldst have staid to close mine eyes,
The Front of the Temple.
They fight around the altar, and the dead
And Gentile Gentile, rushing where the Temple,
Like to a pit of frantic gladiators, Oh, God of Mercies! she is gone an infidel,
Is howling with the strife of men, that fight not An infidel unrepentant, to ihy presence,
For conquest, but the desperate joy of slaying. The partner of my cradle and my bed,
Priests, Levites, women, pass and hurry on My own, my only sister !-oh! but thou,
At least to die within the sanctuary. Lord, knowest that thou hast not drawn her to thee,
I only wait without-I take my stand By making the fond passions of the heart,
Here in the vestibule—and though the thunders Like mine, thy ministers of soft persuasion.
High and aloof o'er the wide arch of heaven She hath not loved a Christian, hath not heard
Hold their calm march, nor deviate to their vengeance, From lips, whose very lightest breath is dear,
On earth in holy patience, Lord, I wait,
Defying thy long lingering to subdue
The faith of Simon.
"T was but now I passid And long thou wilt not be without a grave.
The corpse of Amariah, that display'd Jerusalem will bury all her children
In the wild firelight all its wounds, and lay
Embalm'd in honour. John of Galilee
Is prisoner; I beheld him fiercely gnashing
His ponderous chains. Of me they take no beed, How can I fly, and whither? Will the dead
And am not arm'd to slay. Protect me? Ha! whichever way I turn,
The light within Are others fiercer and more terrible.
Grows redder, broader. 'Tis a fire that burns I'll speak to him,-there's something in his mien
To save or to destroy. On Sinai's top, Less hideous than the rest.
Oh Lord! thou didst appear in flames, the mountsin
Burnt round about thee. Art thou here at length, MIRIAM, the SOLDIER
And must I close mine eyes, lest they be blinded
By the full conflagration of thy presence?
Titus, PLACIDUS, TERENTIUS, Soldiers, Suxos. And thou didst turn aside lest thou shouldst tread
Save, save the Temple! Placidus, Terentius,
Haste, bid the legions cease to slay; and quench Hast thou no voice? perhaps thou art deaf too,
Yon ruining fire. And I am pleading unto closed ears
Who's this, that stands unmoved -Keep from me! stand aloof! I am infected.
'Mid slaughter, flame, and wreck, nor deigns to bow Oh! if the devil, that haunts the souls of men,
Before the Conqueror of Jerusalem ?
What art thou?
Titus, dost thou think that Rome The evil spirit to depart from thee.
Shall quench the fire that burns within yon Temple! Alas! I feel thy grasp upon mine arm,
Ay, when your countless and victorious cohorts, And I must follow thee. Oh! thou hast surely
Ay, when your Cæsar's throne, your Capitol In thine own land, in thino own native home,
Have fallen before it. A wife, a child, a sister: think what 't were
TITUS. To have a stranger's violent arms around her.
Madman, speak! what art thea! Ha! every where are more—and this man's hand
SIMON Did surely tremble ; at the holy name
The uncircumcised have known me heretofore, He seem'd to bow his head. I'll follow thee, And thou may'st know hereafter. Let me but kiss the body of my sister,
PLACIDUS. My dead lost sister--
It is he Bless thee! and thou 'lt spare me- The bloody Captain of the Rebels, Simon, At least thou art less savage than the rest.
The Chief Assassin. Seize him, round his limbs And He that had a virgin mother, He
Bind straight your heaviest chains. An unhoped pa Will surely listen to a virgin's prayer.
geant There's hope and strength within my soul ; lead on, For Cæsar's high ovation. We'll not slay him. I'll follow thee Salone, oh that thou
Till we have made a show to the wives of Rome Hadst rooin in thy cold marriage-bed for me! of the great Hebrew Chieftain.
Oh, strangely cruel ! Knit them close, And wilt thou make me sit even on this stone, See that ye rivet well their galling links.
Where I have sate so oft, when the calm moonlight (Holding up the chains.)
Lay in its slumber on the slumbering fountain ? And ye 've no finer flax to gyve me with ?
Ah! where art thou, thou that wert ever with me, TERENTIUS.
Oh Javan! Jayan!
When was Javan callid
By Miriam, that Javan answer'd not?
Forgive me all thy tears, thy agonies.
Hark! hark! the shrieks I dared not speak to thee, lest the strong joy Of those that perish in the flames. Too late Should overpower thee, and thy feeble limbs I came to spare, it wraps the fabric round.
Refuse to bear thee in thy flight. Fate, Fate, I feel thou 'rt mightier than Cæsar,
MIRIAM. He cannot save what thou hast doom'd! Back, Romans,
What's here? Withdraw your angry cohorts, and give place
Am I in heaven, and thou forehasted thither To the inevitable ruin. Destiny,
To welcome me? Ah, no! thy warlike garb, It is thine own, and Cæsar yields it to thee,
And the wild light, that reddens all the air, Lead off the prisoner.
Those shrieks—and yet this could not be on earth,
The sad, the desolate, the sinful earth.
And thou couldst venture amid fire and death,
Amid thy country's ruins to protect me,
Dear Javan ?
'Tis not now the first time, Miriam, That this thy Temple be a heap of ashes ?
That I have held my life a worthless sacrifice Is 't then thy will, that I, thy chosen Captain,
For thine. Oh! all these later days of siege Put on the raiment of captivity?
I've slept in peril, and I've woke in peril. By Abraham, our father! by the Twelve,
For every meeting I've defied the cross, The Patriarch Sons of Jacob! by the Law,
On which the Roman, in his merciless scorn, In thunder spoken! by the untouch'd Ark!
Bound all the sons of Salem. Sweet, I boast not; By David, and the Anointed Race of Kings!
But to thank rightly our Deliverer, By great Elias, and the gised Prophets !
We must know all the extent of his deliverance. I here demand a sign! "Tis there-I see it.
And I can only weep!
Ay, thou shouldst weep, Abandon'd -pot abandon'd of ourselves.
Lost Zion's daughter.
Ah! I thought not then
Of my dead sister, and my captive fatherAnd cursed by every tongue; our heritage
Said they not "captive" as we pass'd ?-I thought not And birthright bondage; and our very brows
Of Zion's ruin and the Temple's waste, Bearing, like Cain's, the outcast mark of hate :
Javan, I fear that mine are tears of joy ; Israel will still be Israel, still will boast
"Tis sinful at such times—but thou art here, Her fallen Temple, her departed glory;
And I am on thy bosom, and I cannot And, wrapt in conscious righteousness, defy
Be, as I ought, entirely miserable.
JAVAN Earth's utmost hate, and answer scorn with scorn.
My own beloved! I dare call thee mine,
For Heaven bath given thee to me-chosen out, The Fountain of Siloe.
As we two are, for solitary blessing,
While the universal curse is pour'd around us
On every head, 't were cold and barren gratitude
To stifle in our hearts the holy gladness.
A city-One by one thy palaces
O'er half thy circuit hath brought back the night
Which the insulting flames had made give place The hundred-gated Cities then,
The Towers and Temples, named of men
Eternal, and the Thrones of Kings; Now gather all their might, and furiously,
The gilded summer Palaces, Like revellers, hold there exulting triumph.
The courtly bowers of love and ease, Round every pillar, over all the roof,
Where still the Bird of pleasure sings; On the wide gorgeous front, the holy depth
Ask ye the destiny of them? of the far sanctuary, every portico,
Go gaze on fallen Jerusalem! And every court, at once, concentrated,
Yea, mightier names are in the fatal roll, As though to glorify and not destroy,
'Gainst earth and heaven God's standard is unfurl d, They burn, they blaze
The skies are shrivellid like a burning scroll,
Oh! who shall then survive?
Oh! who shall stand and live!
When for the round earth hung in air,
With all its constellations fair
In the sky's azure canopy; Of our devoted city. Look, oh Christians!
When for the breathing Earth, and sparkling Sea, Still the Lord's house survives man's fallen dwellings,
Is but a fiery deluge without shore, And wears its ruin with a majesty
Heaving along the abyss profound and dark,
A fiery deluge, and without an Ark.
Lord of all power, when thou art there alone
On thy eternal fiery-wheeled throne,
That in its high meridian noon
Needs not the perish'd sun hor moon :
When thou art there in thy presiding state,
Wide-sceptred Monarch o'er the realm of doom : The smother'd fires are quench'd in their own ruins : When from the sea-depths, from earth's darkest Like a huge dome, the vast and cloudy smoke
womb, Hath cover'd all.
The dead of all the ages round thee wait:
And when the tribes of wickedness are strewn
Like forest leaves in the autumn of thine ire: The Temple of Jerusalem !-Fall down,
Faithful and True! thou still wilt save thine on! My brethren, on the dust, and worship here
The Saints shall dwell within th' unharming fire, The mysteries of God's wrath.
Each white robe spotless, blooming every palm.
Even so shall perish, Even safe as we, by this still fountain's side,
So shall the Church, thy bright and mystic Bride,
Yes, 'mid yon angry and destroying signs,
We hail, we bless the covenant of its beam,
Almighty to avenge, Almightiest to redeem!
Advance the eagles, Caius Placidus.
Placidus, though not expressly mentioned as one of Sweeping, like chaff, thy wealth and pomp away:
the Roman generals engaged, had a command pre Still to the noontide of that nightless day,
viously in Syria. Shalt thou thy wonted dissolute course maintain.
Note 2 Along the busy mart and crowded street,
A mount of snow fretted with golden pinnacler! The buyer and the seller still shall meet,
Τοις γε μην είσαφικνουμένους ξένους, πόρρωθεν δμοιος And marriage feasts begin their jocund strain : ορει χιόνoς πλήρει κατεφαίνετο, και γαρ καθά μη κεχρι Still to the pouring out the Cap of Woe;
owTo devkóratos iv. JOSEPHUS, lib. v. e. 5. See the Till Earth, a drunkard, reeling to and fro,
whole description. And mountains molten by his burning feet,
Note 3. And Heaven his presence own, all red with furnace Thy brethren of the Porch, imperial Titus heat.
Mr. Reginald Heber's "Stoic tyrant's philosophie
pride" will occur to the memory at least of academic
Note 13. readers
Behold, oh Lord! the Heathen tread, etc.
See Psalm 1xxx, 7, etc.
Note 14. “ The days shall come upon thee when thine ene Even in the garb and with the speech of worship, mies shall cast a trench about thee, and compass thee
Went he not up into the very 'Temple ? round, and keep thee in on every side.” LUKE, xix, 43.
This was the mode in which John surprised Eleazar, For the remarkable and perfect completion of this who before was in possession of the Temple. prophecy, see the description of the wall built by
There hath be held the palace of his luste.
Γυναικιζόμενοι δε τας όψεις, εφόνων ταϊς δεξιαϊς,
θρυπτόμενοι δε τοις βαδίσμασιν, εξαπίνης εγίνοντο πολεWhate'er opposed the sovereign sway of Cæsar. plotai.—JOSEPHus, lib. iv, c. 9. There is a long pasTerentius, or Turnus Rufus, is marked with singu- sage to the same effect. lar detestation in the Jewish traditions.
And where is now the wine for the bridegroom's rosy cup.
In the prophecy of our Saviour concerning the deThe fountain of Siloe was just without the walls. struction of Jerusalem and that of the world, it is said The upper city, occupied by Simon (JOSEPHUS, v, 6.). that “ as in the days of Noe, they shall marry and be ended nearly on a line with the fountain. Though, given in marriage.”—MATTHEW, xxiv. indeed, Simon had possession of parts also of the
Note 17. lower city.-JOSEPHUS, v, 1.
That when the signs are manifest.
The prodigies are related by Josephus in a magni-
ficent page of historic description. Gischala and Jotapata, towns before taken by the
To the sound of timbrels sweet.
The bridal ceremonies are from Calmet, Harmer, Our bridal songs, etc. It must be recollected, that the unmarried state was
and other illustrators of scripture. It is a singular looked on with peculiar horror by the Jewish maidens. tradition that the use of the crowns was discontinued, By marriage there was a hope of becoming the mother after the fall of Jerusalem. A few peculiarities are of the Messiah.
adopted from an account of a Maronite wedding in
The tender and the delicale of women.
“The tender and delicate woman among you, his sons, by whom he had been admitted into the city. which would not adventure 10 set the sole of her Note 10.
foot upon the ground for delicateness and tenderness, Ye want not testimonies to your mildness. her eye shall be evil toward the husband of her Titus crucified round the city those who fled from bosom, and toward her son and toward her daughter, the famine and cruelty of ihe leaders within. — and toward her young one that cometh out from (JOSEPHUS, V, ch. 13.) Sometimes, according to Jo- between her feet, and toward her children which SEPHUS, (lib. v, c. 11,) 500 in a day suffered.
she shall bear; for she shall eat them for want of all
things secretly in the siege and in the straitness, Note 11.
wherewith thine enemy shall distress thee in thy Even on the bills where gleam your myriad spears. gates.” (Deuter. xxvii, 56 and 57.) See also Lamen. The camp of Tilus comprehended a space called the tations, ii. 20. The account of the unnatural mother “ Assyrian's Camp."
is detailed in Josephus.
Break into joy, ye barren that ne'er 'ore ! Josephus gives more than one speech which he ad “ And woe unto them that are with child, and w dressed to his countrymen. They only mocked and them that give suck in those days.”—MATTHEW once wounded him.
THE BELVIDERE APOLLO:
Oft breathless list'ning heard, or seem'd to hear,
A voice of music melt upon her ear.
Slowly she waned, and cold and senseless grown, RECITED IN THE THEATRE, OXFORD, IN THE YEAR Closed her dimn eyes, herself benumb’d to stone.
Yet love in death a sickly strength supplied : HEARD ye the arrow hurile in the sky?
Once more she gazed, then feebly smiled and died. I Heard ye the dragon monster's deathful cry? In settled majesty of calm disdain, Proud of his might, yet scornful of the slain,
Amid a tall imperial city sale,
They communed, grave each brow, and front serene In deathless glory lives the breathing stone.
Holy and high their royalty of mien:
Seem'd nor pale passion, nor blind interest base Bright kindling with a conqueror's stern delight, Within that kingly Sanhedrim had place. His keen eye tracks the arrow's fateful flight; Burns his indignant cheek with vengeful fire,
Abroad were sounds as of a storm gone past, And his lip quivers with insulting ire :
Or midnight on a dismal battle field; Firm fix'd his tread, yet light, as when on high
Aye some drear trumpet spake its lonely blast, He walks th' impalpable and pathless sky:
Aye in deep distance sad artillery peald, The rich luxuriance of his hair, confined
Booming their sullen thunders--then ensued In graceful ringlets, wantons on the wind.
The majesty of silence—on her throne That lists in sport his mantle's drooping fold
of plain or mountain, listening sate and lone Proud to display that form of faultless mould.
Each nation to those crowned Peers' decree;
And this wide world of restless beings rude
Lay mute and breathless as a summer sea.
Their diadem-starr'd foreheads lowly bow'd:
When, at some viewless summoner's slern call, And nations bow'd before the work of man.
Uprose in place the Imperial Criminal. For mild he seem'd, as in Elysian bowers,
In that wan face nor ancient majesty Wasting in careless ease the joyous hours ;
Left wither'd splendour dim, nor old renown Haughty, as bards have sung, with princely sway
Lofty disdain in that sad sunken eye ; Curbing the fierce flame-breathing steeds of day;
No giant ruin even in wreck elate Beauteous as vision seen in dreamy sleep
Frowning dominion o'er imperious fate, By holy maid on Delphi's haunted steep,
But ono to native lowliness cast down. 'Mid the dim twilight of the laurel grove,
A sullen, careless desperation gave Too fair to worship, too divine to love.
The hollow semblance of intrepid grief,
Not that heroic patience, nobly brave, Yet on that form in wild delirious trance
That even from misery wrings a proud relief; With more than rev'rence gazed the Maid of France, Nor the dark pride of haughty spirits of ill, Day after day the love-sick dreamer sto
That from the towering grandeur of their sin, With him alone, nor thought it solitude !
Wear on the brow triumphant gladness sull, To cherish grief, her last, her dearest care,
Heedless of racking agony within; Her one fond hope—to perish of despair.
Nor penitence was there, nor pale remorse, Oft as the shifting light her sight beguiled,
Nor memory of his fall from kingly state, Blushing she shrunk, and thought the marble smiled: And warrior glory in his sun-like course,
Fortune his slave, and Victory his mate. * The Apollo is in the act of watching the arrow with wbich he slow the serpent Python.
1 The foregoing fact is related in the work of M. Pinel sur | Agasias of Ephesus.