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AMERICAN ECLECTIC

AND

MUSEUM OF LITERATURE, SCIENCE, AND ART.

APRIL, 184 3.

FALL OF JERUSALEM.

FROM MILMAN.
Illustrated by an Engraving by Mr. Sartain, from Martin's celebrated Picture.

Titus, Placidus, Terentius, Soldiers, Simon. I came to spare, it wraps the fabric ronnd.

Fate, Fate, I feel thou'rt mightier than Cesar, TITUS. Save, save the Temple! Placidus, Terentius,

He cannot save what thou hast doom'd! Back, Haste, bid the legions cease to slay; and quench

Romans,
Yon ruining fire.

Withdraw your angry cohorts, and give place
Who's this, that stands unmoved To the inevitable ruin. Destiny,
Mid slaughter, flame, and wreck, nor deigns to bow

It is thine own, and Cesar yields it to thee.
Before the Conqueror of Jerusalem ?

Lead off the prisoner.
What art thou?

SIMON
SIMON.

Can it be? the fire
Titus, dost thou think that Rome Destroys, the thunders cease. I'll not believe,
Shall quench the fire that burns witbin yon Temple? And vét how dare I doubt?
Ay, when your countless and victorious cohorts,

A moment, Romans. Ay, when your Cesar's throne, your Capitol

Is't then thy will, Almighty Lord of Israel,
Have fallen before it.

That this thy Temple be a heap of ashes ?
TITUS.

Ist then thy will, that I, thy chosen Captain,
Madman, speak! what art thou ? Put on the raiment of captivity ?

By Abraham, our father I by the Twelve,
SIMON.
The uncircumcis d have known me heretofore,

The Patriarch Sons of Jacob! by the Law,

In thunder spoken! by the untouch'd Ark!
And thou mayst know hereafter.

By David, and the Anointed Race of Kings !
PLACIDUS.

By great Élias, and the gifted Prophets !
It is he-

1 here demand a sign! The bloody Captain of the Rebels, Simon,

"Tis there-I see it. The Chief Assassin. Seize him, round his limbs The fire that rends the Veil ! Bind straight your heaviest chains. An unhop'd

We are then of theo pageant

Abandond- not abandon'd of ourselves. For Cesar's high ovation. We'll not slay him, Heap woes upon us, scatter us abroad, Till we have made a show to the wives of Rome Earth's scorn and hissing ; to the race of men Of the great Hebrew Chiestain.

A loathsome proverb; spurn'd by every foot,

And curs'd by every tongue ; our heritage
SIMON.
Knit them close,

And biribright bondage ; and our very brows

Bearing, like Cain's, the outcast mark of hate : See that ye rivet well their galling links.

Israel will still be Israel, still will boast (Holding up the chains.) And ye've no finer flax to gyve me with ?

Her fallen Temple, her departed glory ;

And, wrapt in conscious righteousness, defy
TERENTIUS.

Earth's utmost hate, and answer scorn with scorn. Burst these, and we will forge thee stronger then.

THE FOUNTAIN OF SILOE.
SIMON.
Fool, 'tis not yet the hour.

MIRIAM, the Soldier.
TITUS.

MIRIAM.
Hark! hark; the shrieks

Here, here-not here-oh! any where but here-Of those that perish in the flames. Too late Not toward the fountain, not by this lone path.

Vol. I. No. IV. 37

If thou wilt bear me hence, I'll kiss thy feet,

Hark-bark !
I'll call down blessings, a lost virgin's blessings The feeble cry of an expiring nation.
Upon thy head. Thou hast hurried me along,

Hark-hark !
Through darkling street, and over smoking ruin, The awe-struck shout of the unboasting conqueror.
And yet there seem'd a soft solicitude,

Hark-hark! And an officious kindness in thy violence

It breaks-it severs—it is on the earth. But I've not heard thy voice.

The smother'd fires are quench'd in their own ruins :
Oh, strangely cruel ! Like a huge dome, the vast and cloudy smoke
And wilt thou make me sit even on this stone, Hath cover'd all.
Where I have sate so oft, when the calm moonlight

And it is now no more,
Lay in its slumber on the slumbering fountain ? Nor ever shall be to the end of time,
Ah! where art thou, thou that wert ever with me, The Temple of Jerusalem Fall down,
Oh Javan! Javan!

My brethren, on the dust, and worship here

The mysteries of God's wrath,
THE SOLDIER.

Even so shall perish,
When was Javan callid
By Miriam, that Javan answer'd not ?

In its own ashes, a more glorious Temple, Forgive me all thy tears, thy agonies.

Yea, God's own architecture, this vast world,

This fated universe--the same destroyer, I dar'd not speak to thee, lest the strong joy

The same destruction- Earth, Earth, Earth, beShould overpower thee, and thy feeble limbs

hold! Refuse to bear thee in thy flight.

And in that judgment look upon thine own!
MIRIAM,
What's here?

HYMN.
Am I in heaven, and thou forehasted thither Even thus amid thy pride and luxury,
To welcome me? Ah, no! thy warlike garb, Oh Earth! shall that last coming burst on thee.
And the wild light, that reddens all the air,

That secret coming of the Son of Man. Those shrieks- and yet this could not be on earth, 1 When all the cherub-throning clouds shall shine. The sad, the desolate, the sinful earth.

Irradiate with his bright advancing sign: And thou couldst venture amid fire and death, When that Great Husbandman shall wave his fan. Amid thy country's ruins to protect me,

Sweeping, like chaff, thy wealth and pomp away : Dear Javan? * *

Still to the noontide of that nightless day, Javan, I fear that mine are tears of joy :

Shalt thou thy wonted dissolute course maintain. 'Tis sinful at such times—but thou art here, Along the busy mart and crowded street, And I am on thy bosom, and I cannot

The buyer and the seller still shall meet, Be, as I ought, entirely miserable.

And marriage feasts begin their jocund strain :

Still to the pouring out the Cup of Wo;
JAVAN.

Till Earth, a drunkard, reeling to and fro,
My own beloved ! I dare call thee mine,

And mountains molten by his burning feet, For Heaven bath given thee to me-chosen out, And Heaven his presence own, all red with furnace As we two are for solitary blessing,

heat. While the universal curse is pour'd around us On every head, 'twere cold and barren gratitude

The hundred-gated Cities then, To stifle in our hearts the holy gladness.

The Towers and Temples, nam'd of men But, oh Jerusalem ! thy rescued children

Eternal, and the Thrones of Kings; May not, retir'd within their secret joy,

The gilded summer Palaces, Shut out the mournful sight of thy calamities.

The courtly bowers of love and ease, Oh, beauty of earth's cities ! throned queen

Where still the Bird of pleasure sings ; Of thy milk-flowing valleys ! crown'd with glory! Ask ye the destiny of them? The envy of the nations ! now no more

Go gaze on fallen Jerusalem ! A city- One by one thy palaces

| Yea, mightier names are in the fatal roll, Sink into ashes, and the uniform smoke

Gainst earth and heaven God's standard is unO’er half thy circuit hath brought back the night

furi'd, Which the insulting flames had made give place The skies are shriveli'd like a burning scroll, To their untimely terrible day. The flames

And the vast common doom ensepulchres the That in the Temple, their last proudest conquest,

world. Now gather all their might, and furiously, Like revellers, hold there exulting triumph.

Oh! who shall then survive ? Round every pillar, over all the roof,

Oh! who shall stand and live ? On the wide gorgeous front, the holy depth

When all that bath been, is no more : Of the far sanctuary, every portico,

When for the round earth hung in air, And every court, at once, concentrated,

With all its constellations fair As though to glorify and not destroy,

In the sky's azure canopy ; They burn, they blaze

| When for the breathing Earth, and Sparkling Sea, Look, Miriam, how it stands!

Is but a fiery deluge without shore,
Look !

Heaving along the abyss profound and dark,
MIRIAM.

A fiery deluge, and without an Ark.
There are men around us !

Lord of all power, when thou art there alone
JAVAN.

On thy eternal fiery-wheeled throne,
They are friends,

That in its high meridian noon
Bound here to meet me, and behold the last

Needs not the perish'd sun nor moon: Of our devoted city. Look, oh Christians ! When thou art there in thy presiding state, Still the Lord's house survives man's fallen dwell. Wide-sceptred Monarch o'er the realm of doom : ings,

When from the sea depths, from earth's darkest And wears its ruin with a majesty

womb, Peculiar and divine. Still, still it stands,

The dead of all the ages round thee wait : All one wide fire, and yet no stone hath fallen. | And when the tribes of wickedness are strewn

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