THE WILD GAZELLE. THE wild gazelle on Judah's hills May glance in tameless transport by: A step as fleet, an eye more bright, The cedars wave on Lebanon, But Judah's statelier maids are gone! More blest each palm that shades those plains Than Israel's scatter'd race; For, taking root, it there remains In solitary grace: It cannot quit its place of birth, But we must wander witheringly, And where our fathers' ashes be, OH! WEEP FOR THOSE. JEPHTHA'S DAUGHTER. SINCE our Country, our God-oh, my sire! Demand that thy daughter expire; Since thy triumph was bought by thy vowStrike the bosom that's bared for thee now ! And the voice of my mourning is o'er, And of this, O my father! be sure- And the last thought that soothes me below. When this blood of thy giving hath gush'd, OH! SNATCH'D AWAY IN BEAUTY'S ́OH! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom, OH! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream, less dwell! And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet? The wild-dove hath her nest, the fox his cave, ON JORDAN'S BANKS. ON Jordan's banks the Arab's camels stray, Yet there even there-O God! Thy thunders sleep: There where Thy finger scorch'd the tablet stone ! There where Thy shadow to Thy people shone! spear: How long by tyrants shall Thy land be trod? How long Thy temple worshipless, O God! And oft by yon blue gushing stream Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head, And feed deep thought with many a dream, And lingering pause and lightly tread ; Fond wretch ! as if her step disturb'd the dead! Away! we know that tears are vain, That death nor heeds nor hears distress: Will this unteach us to complain? Or make one mourner weep the less? And thou-who tell'st me to forget, Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet. MY SOUL IS DARK. My soul is dark-oh! quickly string Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear. That sound shall charm it forth again : I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep, For it hath been by sorrow nursed, I SAW THEE WEEP. I SAW thee weep-the big bright tear I saw thee smile-the sapphire's blaze It could not match the living rays As clouds from yonder sun receive A deep and mellow dye, Which scarce the shade of coming eve Can banish from the sky, Those smiles unto the moodiest mind THY DAYS ARE DONE. The triumphs of her chosen son, Though thou art fall'n, while we are free Thy spirit on our breath! Thy name, our charging hosts along, Thy fall, the theme of choral song SAUL. THOU whose spell can raise the dead, King, behold the phantom seer!' Why is my sleep disquieted? Who is he that calls the dead? Is it thou, O King? Behold, Bloodless are these limbs, and cold: Such are mine; and such shall be Thine to-morrow, when with me: Ere the coming day is done, Such shalt thou be, such thy son. Fare thee well, but for a day, Then we mix our mouldering clay. Thou, thy race, lie pale and low, Pierced by shafts of many a bow; And the falchion by thy side To thy heart thy hand shall guide : Crownless, breathless, headless fall, Son and sire, the house of Saul ! SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST BATTLE. WARRIORS and chiefs! should the shaft or the sword Pierce me in leading the host of the Lord, Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow, Should the soldiers of Saul look away from the foe, Stretch me that moment in blood at thy feet! 'ALL IS VANITY, SAITH THE FAME, wisdom, love, and power were mine, And lovely forms caress'd me : I sunn'd my heart in beauty's eyes, I strive to number o'er what days And not a trapping deck'd my power The serpent of the field, by art And spells, is won from harming; But there it stings for evermore The soul that must endure it. WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS WHEN coldness wraps this suffering clay, But leaves its darken'd dust behind. By steps each planet's heavenly way? A thought unseen, but seeir g all, Its eye shall roll through chaos back; Above or Love, Hope, Hate, or Fear, It lives all passionless and pure : An age shall fleet like earthly year; Its years as moments shall endure. Away, away, without a wing, O'er all, through all, its thought shall fly, A nameless and eternal thing, Forgetting what it was to die. VISION OF BELSHAZZAR. The godless Heathen's wine. And traced them like a wand. 'Let the men of lore appear, The wisest of the earth, But here they have no skill; Are wise and deep in lore; But now they were not sage, They saw-but knew no more. A captive in the land, A stranger and a youth, true. 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! rays; A night-beam Sorrow watcheth to behold, Distinct, but distant-clear, but oh, how cold! WERE MY BOSOM AS FALSE AS THOU DEEM'ST IT TO BE. WERE my bosom as false as thou deem'st it to be, I need not have wander'd from far Galilee ; I have lost for that faith more than thou canst As the God who permits thee to prosper doth 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. Oн, 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 Obey my frenzy's jealous raving? 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 ; She sunk, with her my joys entombing; I swept that flower from Judah's stem, Whose leaves for me alone were blooming; And mine's the guilt, and mine the hell, This bosom's desolation dooming; And I have earn'd those tortures well, Which unconsumed are still consuming! BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON WE We sat down and wept by the waters While sadly we gazed on the river O Salem! its sound should be free; THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB. THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, [gold; And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, [Galilee. When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep FROM the last hill that looks on thy once holy Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is ON THE DAY OF THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM BY TITUS. dome, decline Or many an eve, the high spot whence I gazed Hid reflected the last beam of day as it azed; While I stood on the height and beheld the [shrine. Of the rays from the mountain that shone on thy And now on that mountain I stood on that day, But I mark'd not the twilight beam melting away! Oh! would that the lightning had glared in its And scatter'd and scorn'd as thy people green, blown, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd; blast, And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and [grew still! chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord! A SPIRIT PASSED BEFORE ME. FROM JOB. A SPIRIT pass'd before me: I beheld The face of immortality unveil'd Is man more just than God? Is man more Than He who deems even Seraphs insecure? Deep sleep came down on every eye save mine-Things of a day! you wither ere the night, And there it stood-all formless, but divine: Along my bones the creeping flesh did quake; Heedless and blind to Wisdom's wasted light!' And as my damp hair stiffen'd, thus it spake : POEMS ON NAPOLEON. ODE TO NAPOLEON. Expende Annibalem :-quot libras in duce summo JUVENAL, Sat. x. The Emperor Nepos was acknowledged by the Senate, by the Italians, and by the Provincials of Gaul; his moral virtues and military talents were loudly celebrated; and those who derived any private benefit from his government announced in prophetic strains the restoration of public felicity. By this shameful abdication, he protracted his life a few years, in a very ambiguous state, between an Emperor and an Exile, till--GIBBON'S Decline and Fall, vol. vi. p. 220. 'Tis done-but yesterday a King! Is this the man of thousand thrones, Who strew'd our earth with hostile bones, Since he, miscall'd the Morning Star, Ill-minded man! why scourge thy kind Thou taught'st the rest to see. To those that worshipp'd thee; Thanks for that lesson-it will teach To after-warriors more That led them to adore The triumph, and the vanity, The rapture of the strife* ⚫'Certaminis gaudia-the expression of Attila in his harangue to his army, previous to the battle of Chalons, given in Cassiodorus. The earthquake voice of Victory, The sword, the sceptre, and that sway Wherewith renown was rife All quell'd!-Dark Spirit! what must be The madness of thy memory! The Desolator desolate ! The Victor overthrown ! The Arbiter of others' fate A Suppliant for his own! Is it some yet imperial hope That with such change can calmly cope? To die a prince-or live a slave- He who of old would rend the oak,* And darker fate has found: The Roman,† when his burning heart The Spaniard, when the lust of sway, |