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The lamps around were bright,
The prophecy in view;
"Belshazzar's grave is made, "His kingdom pass'd away, "He, in the balance weigh'd, "Is light and worthless clay. "The shroud, his robe of state, "His canopy the stone; "The Mede is at his gate!
"The Persian on his throne!"
SUN OF THE SLEEPLESS!
SUN of the sleepless! melancholy star!
That show'st the darkness thou canst not dispel,
So gleams the past, the light of other days,
WERE MY BOSOM AS FALSE AS THOU DEEM'ST IT TO BE.
WERE my bosom as false as thou deem'st it to be,
The curse which, thou say'st, is the crime of my race.
If the bad never triumph, then God is with thee!
Live on in thy faith, but in mine I will die.
I have lost for that faith more than thou canst bestow, As the God who permits thee to prosper doth know; In his hand is my heart and my hope-and in thine The land and the life which for him I resign.
HEROD'S LAMENT FOR MARIAMNE.
OH, Mariamne! now for thee
The heart for which thou bled'st is bleeding; Revenge is lost in agony,
And wild remorse to rage succeeding.
Oh, Mariamne! where art thou?
Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading: Ah, couldst thou-thou wouldst pardon now, Though heaven were to my prayer unheeding.
And is she dead?—and did they dare
My wrath but doom'd my own despair:
The sword that smote her's o'er me waving.
But thou art cold, my murder'd love!
And this dark heart is vainly craving For her who soars alone above,
And leaves my soul unworthy saving.
She's gone, who shared my diadem;
And I have earn'd those tortures well,
Which unconsumed are still consuming!