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As they were all alive with light;
as if inlaid
Banqueting through the flowery vales; And, Jordan, those sweet banks of thine,
And woods, so full of nightingales.
But nought can charm the luckless Peri;
Flinging their shadows from on high,
Had raised to count his ages by! Yet haply there may lie conceal'd
Beneath those chambers of the Sun, Some amulet of gems,
anneal'a In upper fires, some tablet seal’d
With the great name of Solomon,
Which, spellid by her illumined eyes, May teach her where, beneath the moon, In earth or ocean lies the boon, The charm, that can restore so soon,
An erring spirit to the skies!
Cheer'd by this hope she bends her thither;
Still laughs the radiant eye of heaven,
Nor have the golden bowers of Even
Slowly, she sees a child at play,
As rosy and as vild as they ;
The beautiful blue damsel-flies,
From his hot steed, and on the brink
Impatient Aling him down to drink. Then swift his haggard brow he turn'd
To the fair child, who fearless sat, Though never yet hath day-beam burn'd
Upon a brow more fierce than that, Sullenly fierce a mixture dire, Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire! In which the Peri's eye could read Dark tales of many a ruthless deed; The ruin'd maid the shrine profaned Oaths broke and the threshold stain'd With blood of guests! - there written, all, Black as the damning drops that fall From the denouncing Angel's pen, Ere Mercy weeps them out again!
Yet tranquil now that man of crime
Met that unclouded, joyous gaze
Encounter morning's glorious rays.
But hark! the vesper call to prayer,
As slow the orb of daylight sets,
From Syria's thousand minarets !
Kneels, with his forehead to the south,
From purity's own cherub mouth,
And how felt he, the wretched man
while memory ran
And hope and feeling, which had slept HOEKZEMA, Poetry. 4th Ed.
From boyhood's hour, that instant came
Fresh o'er him, and he wept – he wept ! Blest tears of soul-felt penitence!
In whose benign, redeeming flow Is felt the first, the only sense
Of guiltless joy that guilt can know. “There's a drop," said the Peri, "that down from the moon Falls through the withering airs of June Upon Egypt's land, of so healing a power, So balmy a virtue, that even in the hour That drop descends, contagion dies, And health reanimates earth and skies! Oh, is it not thus, thou man of sin,
The precious tears of repentance fall ?
One heavenly drop hath dispell’d them all!"
'Twas when the golden orb had set,
FALLEN IS THY THRONE.
Fallen is thy throne, O Israel !
Silence is o'er thy plains; Thy dwellings all lie desolate,
Thy children weep in chains !
On Etham's barren shore !
Nows lights thy path no more.
Lord! thou didst love Jerusalem
Once she was all Thy own; Her love Thy fairest heritage
Her power Thy glory's throne,
Thy long-loved olive-tree;
For other gods than Thee.
Then sunk the star of Solyma
Then pass'd her glory's day, Like heath that in the wilderness
The wild wind whirls away. Silent and waste her bowers,
Where once the mighty trod , And sunk those guilty towers,
Where Baal reign'd as God.
“ "Go" - said the Lord – “Ye conquerors!
Steep in her blood your swords, And raze to earth her battlements,
For they are not the Lord's. Till Zion's mournful daughter
O’er kindred bones shall tread, And Hinnom's vale of slaughter
Shall hide but half her dead!"