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FROM “THE FALL OF JERUSALEM."
Oh Thou ! thou who canst melt the heart of stone, And make the desert of the cruel breast A paradise of soft and gentle thoughts ! Ah! will it ever be, that thou wilt visit The darkness of my father's soul? Thou knowest In what strong bondage zeal and ancient faith, Passion and stubborn Custom, and fierce Pride, Hold the heart of man. Thou knowest, Merciful! That knowest all things, and dost ever turn Thine eye of pity on our guilty nature :
For thou wert born of woman! thou didst come
And not by thunders strewed
Was thy tempestuous road;
But thee, a soft and naked child,
Thy mother undefiled.
From off her virgin breast..
The heavens were not commanded to prepare
Came wandering from afar,
The Eastern sages leading on
As at a kingly throne,
Before thy infant feet.
The earth and ocean were not hushed to hear
From all the cherub choirs,
salony, Poured through the host of heaven the charmed clouds
One angel troop the strain began,
Of all the race of man
That soft Hosanna's tone.
And when thou didst depart, no car of flame
From fatal Calvary
stombs With all thine own redeemed outbursting from their
For thou didst bear away from earth
But one of human birth,
In paradise with thee.
Nor o'er thy cross the clouds of vengeance brake ;
A few dim hours of day
The world in darkness lay; Then basked in bright repose beneath the cloudless sun,
While thou didst sleep beneath the tomb,
Consenting to thy doom ;
Upon the sealed stone.
And when thou didst arise, thou didst not stand
Plaguing the guilty city's murtherous crew ;
But thou didst haste to meet
Thy mother's coming feet,
Then calmly, slowly didst thou rise
Into thy native skies ;
In its own radiancy.
FROM “THE MARTYK JF ANTIOCH."
Cease, Calanthias, cease ;
Lik: him beside whose hallowed grave wc s*and,
And hurrying feet are trampling to and fro.
* * *
CALLIAS. and yet she stands unblasted! In thy mercy Thou dost remember all my faithful vows, Hyperion! and suspend the fiery shaft That quivers on thy string. Ah, not on her, This innocent, wreck thy fury! I will search, And thou wilt lend me light, although they shroud In deepest Orcus. I will pluck them forth, And set them up a mark for all thy wrath; Those that beguiled to this unholy madness My pure and blameless child. Shine forth, shine forth Apollo, and we'll have our full revenge.
'Tis over now—and oh, I bless thee, Lord, For making me thus desolate below; For severing one by one the ties that bind me To this cold world, for whither can earth's outcasts Fly but to heaven?
Yet is no way but this, None but to steep my father's lingering days