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Ye princes, rulers, all adore;
Praise him, ye kings, who makes your power
An image of his own.
Ye fair, by nature form'd to move,
O praise the eternal Source of Love
With youth's enlivening fire;
take up the tuneful lay,
Sing his bless'd name-then soar away,
And ask an angel's lyre.
YE are fair, ye are fair; and your pensive rays Steal down like the light of departed days; But have sin and sorrow ne'er wander'd o'er
The green abodes of each sunny shore?
Hath no frost been there, and no withering blast,
Cold, cold, o'er the flower and the forest, pass'd?
Does the playful leaf never fall nor fade?
The rose ne'er droop in the silent shade?
Say, comes there no cloud on your morning beam,
On your night of beauty no troubled dream?
Have ye no tear the eye to annoy,
No grief to shadow its light of joy?
No bleeding breasts, that are doom'd to part,
No blighted bower, and no broken heart?
Hath death ne'er sadden'd your scenes of bloom?
Have your suns ne'er shone on the silent tomb ?
Did their sportive radiance never fall
On the cypress tree or the ruin'd wall?—
'T were vain to guess; for no eye hath seen
O'er the gulf eternally fix'd between.
We hear not the song of your early hours;
We hear not the hymn of your evening bowers.
The strains that gladden each radiant sphere
Ne'er pour'd their sweets on a mortal ear;
Though such I could deem, on the evening's sigh,
The air-harp's unearthly melody!
Farewell, farewell! I go to my rest;
For the shades are passing into the west,
And the beacon pales on its lonely height.
Isles of the bless'd, good night, good night!
DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM.
FALLEN is thy throne, O Israel!—
Silence is on all 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 that led thee
Now 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," said the Lord, "ye conquerors!
Steep in her blood your swords;
And raze to earth her battlements,
For they are not the Lord's.
Tell Zion's mournful daughter,
O'er kindred bones she 'll tread;
And Hinnom's vale of slaughter
Shall hide but half her dead."
But soon shall other pictured scenes
In brighter vision rise,
When Zion's sun shall sevenfold shine
On all her mourners' eyes,
And on her mountains beauteous stand The messengers of peace:
"Salvation by the Lord's right hand!"
They shout, and never cease.
WHEN the radiant morn of creation broke,
And the world in the smile of God awoke,
And the empty realms of darkness and death
Were moved through their depths by his mighty
And orbs of beauty, and spheres of flame,
From the void abyss, by myriads came,
In the joy of youth, as they darted away,
Through the widening wastes of space to play,
Their silver voices in chorus rung;
And this was the song the bright ones sung :
"Away, away! through the wide, wide sky,-The fair blue fields that before us lie,
Each sun, with the worlds that round us roll,
Each planet, poised on her turning pole,
With her isles of green, and her clouds of white,
And her waters that lie like fluid light.
"For the Source of glory uncovers his face,
And the brightness o'erflows unbounded space;
And we drink, as we go, the luminous tides
In our ruddy air and our blooming sides.
Lo, yonder the living splendors play :
Away, on our joyous path away!
"Look, look, through our glittering ranks afar,
In the infinite azure, star after star,
How they brighten and bloom as they swiftly pass How the verdure runs o'er each rolling mass !
And the path of the gentle winds is seen,
Where the small waves dance, and the young woods
"And see where the brighter day-beams pour,
How the rainbows hang in the sunny shower;
And the morn and the eve, with their pomp of hues,
Shift o'er the bright planets, and shed their dews;
And, 'twixt them both, o'er the teeming ground,
With her shadowy cone, the night goes round!
"Away, away!-in our blossoming bowers,
In the soft air, wrapping these spheres of ours,
In the seas and fountains that shine with morn,
See, love is brooding, and life is born,
And breathing myriads are breaking from night,
To rejoice, like us, in motion and light.
"Glide on in your beauty, ye youthful spheres,
To weave the dance that measures the years.
Glide on, in the glory and gladness sent
To the farthest wall of the firmament,—
The boundless visible smile of Him,
To the veil of whose brow our lamps are dim."