He prayed for Israel-and his voice went up The heart that cherished him—for him he poured, The pall was settled. He who slept beneath As when, in hours of gentle dalliance, bathing Of David entered, and he gave command, In a low tone, to his few followers, And left him with his dead. The king stood still D Till the last echo died; then, throwing off "Alas! my noble boy! that thou shouldst die! Thou, who wert made so beautifully fair! That death should settle in thy glorious eye, And leave his stillness in this clustering hair! How could he mark thee for the silent tomb! My proud boy, Absalom! "Cold is thy brow, my son! and I am chill, As to my bosom I have tried to press thee! How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, And hear thy sweet' My father!' from these dumb And cold lips, Absalom! "But death is on thee. I shall hear the gush And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung ; But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come To meet me, Absalom! "And oh! when I am stricken, and my heart, Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken, How will its love for thee, as I depart, Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token ! It were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom, To see thee, Absalom! “And now, farewell! 'Tis hard to give thee up, With death so like a gentle slumber on thee;— And thy dark sin!-Oh! I could drink the cup, He covered up his face, and bowed himself ALEXANDER'S FEAST. BY DRYDEN. 'Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won By Philip's warlike son: Aloft in awful state The godlike hero sate On his imperial throne: His valiant peers were placed around, Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound; (So should desert in arms be crowned.) The lovely Thaïs, by his side, Sate like a blooming Eastern bride, In flower of youth and beauty's pride. Happy, happy, happy pair! None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair. Timotheus, placed on high With flying fingers touched the lyre: The song began from Jove, Who left his blissful seats above, When he to fair Olympia pressed, And stamped an image of himself, a sovereign of the world. The listening crowd admire the lofty sound, A present deity! they shout around: A present deity! the vaulted roofs rebound. The monarch hears, And seems to shake the spheres. The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung, The jolly god in triumph comes; He shows his honest face: Now give the hautboys breath. He comes! he comes! Drinking joys did first ordain; Sweet the pleasure, Sweet is pleasure after pain. Soothed with the sound, the king grew vain ; Fought all his battles o'er again; And thrice he routed all his foes; and thrice he slew the slain. The master saw the madness rise; His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes; And, while he Heaven and Earth defied, Soft pity to infuse : He sung Darius, great and good, And weltering in his blood; The various turns of Chance below ; The mighty master smiled to see Softly sweet, in Lydian measures, Never ending, still beginning, If the world be worth thy winning, |