As they were all alive with light; And, yet more splendid, numerous flocks Of pigeons, settling on the rocks, With their rich restless wings, that gleam Variously in the crimson beam
Of the warm west, as if inlaid With brilliants from the mine, or made Of tearless rainbows, such as span Th' unclouded skies of Peristan! And then, the mingling sounds that come, Of shepherd's ancient reed, with hum Of the wild bees of Palestine,
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; Her soul is sad her wings are weary Joyless she sees the sun look down On that great temple, once his own, Whose lonely columns stand sublime, Flinging their shadows from on high, Like dials, which the wizard, Time, 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'd In upper fires, some tablet seal'd
With the great name of Solomon, Which, spell'd 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 In the rich west begun to wither; When, o'er the vale of Baalbec winging Slowly, she sees a child at play, Among the rosy wild-flowers singing, As rosy and as wild as they; Chasing, with eager hands and eyes, The beautiful blue damsel-flies, That flutter'd round the jasmine stems, Like wing'd flowers or flying gems: And, near the boy, who tired with play Now nestling 'mid the roses lay, She saw a wearied man dismount From his hot steed, and on the brink Of a small imaret's rustic fount Impatient fling 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
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 (As if the balmy evening time Softend'd his spirit) look'd and lay, Watching the rosy infant's play :
Though still, whene'er his eye by chance Fell on the boy's, its lurid glance
Met that unclouded, joyous gaze As torches, that have burn'd all night Through some impure and godless rite, Encounter morning's glorious rays.
But hark! the vesper call to prayer, As slow the orb of daylight sets, Is rising sweetly on the air,
From Syria's thousand minarets! The boy has started from the bed Of flowers, where he had laid his head, And down npon the fragrant sod
Kneels, with his forehead to the south, Lisping the eternal name of God
From purity's own cherub mouth, And looking, while his hands and eyes Are lifted to the glowing skies, Like a stray babe of Paradise, Just lighted on that flowery plain, And seeking for its home again!
Oh 'twas a sight that heaven
A scene which might have well beguiled
Even haughty Eblis of a sigh
For glories lost and peace gone by!
And how felt he, the wretched man Reclining there while memory ran O'er many a year of guilt and strife, Flew o'er the dark flood of his life, Nor found one sunny resting-place, Nor brought him back one branch of grace! "There was a time," he said, in mild, Heart-humbled tones "thou blessed child!
When young, and haply pure as thou,
I look'd and pray'd like thee
He hung his head each nobler aim 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 mc
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? Though foul thy fiery plagues within,
One heavenly drop hath dispell'd them all!" And now behold him kneeling there
By the child's side, in humble prayer, While the same sunbeam shines upon The guilty and the guiltless one,
And hymns of joy proclaim through heaven. The triumph of a Soul Forgiven!
'Twas when the golden orb had set, While on their knees they linger'd yet, There fell a light, more lovely far Than ever came from sun or star, Upon the tear that, warm and meek, Dew'd that repentant sinner's cheek: To mortal eye this light might seem A northern flash or meteor beam But well th' enraptured Peri knew 'Twas a bright smile the Angel threw From heaven's gate, to hail that tear Her harbinger of glory near!
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! Where are the dews that fed thee On Etham's barren shore!
That fire from heaven which led thee, 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, Till evil came and blighted
Thy long-loved olive-tree;
And Salem's shrines were lighted 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" Isaid 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!"
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