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Rode in meridian glory; and the waves
his dove, Light courier; she nor green tree found nor
sand To rest her printless foot, hut hted her home With ruffled hreast, and plumage sprent
with dew. What hodes her second emhassy? a shoot Of olive, cheerful green, upon her hill Shines graceful: tremhling haste, and eager
Beam from the eye of Noah as he greets
nest She weaves, and warhles wild her artless
notes , Or drinks amhrosial nectar from the rill.
Now was all nature drest in freshest green, Pure from the dregs of grosser earth, which
wind And wave had swept away. Mild Zephyr
sheds Refreshing hreezes, which the meadows'
down Impress not, as they hlow; so hrave a world It seem'd, so passing fair, that the eye hung Euamour'd of its charms. Thy cautious hand, Good Patriarch, wide the lattice of the ark Unfolded, curious dome; upon whose roof Was etch'd the chronicle of month and day; While the sun, quivering thro' hersahle gate, Reflects the gleam of thousand golden plumes Star-spangled insects, eyes of living fire, Darting their mingled radiance thro' the
With mind uprais'd, and firm, not hasty
step, The Patriarch disemharks: white shone his
locks, The pride of reverend age; and white his
heard As the fresh snow on Rhodope: his look Was joy, chastis'd hy temperance and fear, Pear, such as wisdom prompts, as angels feel.
Fear not, O Earth: contentious waves no
more With hitter hlast shall sweep thy gallant sons, Like tremhling leaves, away! thy sure appeal Is yon hright curve, thy sure protection, God. Oft shall the hright reflection paint the lap Of Arcady, where old Penens curls His silver wave translucent; there the swain On sloping lawn, or level down, shall mark The gaudy phantom melting into air, Of pasture fresh, and gray unclouded dawn Sure presage! oft shall God gladden the
groves Of myrrh, and the sweet wilderness of halm With showers, and from his gay enamelled
Shed lucid fruitfulness; some aged spire
Far o'er the horizon of the trouhled sea, What time the storm retires, the how shall
dip Its woof in sky-grain'd tincture, from the
back Of some dun cloud emerging hy degrees, All hright, all vivid: this, Philosophy, Deep musing maid, shall oft at eve descry, And with her crystal prism contract, dilate lis frangihle and parti-coloured rays, Thy hoon, Astronomy's advent'rous child, Sage Newton! this religion's votary Shall greet with rapture, shall, with pray'r
pursue; And to his progeny the cause explain. "Rejoice, my Son, and on thy heart pourtray Yon mystic characters, that stamp the cloud. Once was the world degenerate, once was
sunk In wasting waters; hut hy yon fair how The Almighty swore, that not again should
Man Provoke his vengeance to let tempests loose Against this goodly earth. Hence in the
clouds He checks the map of waters; hence rehukes The roaring sea, if haply his proud surge High swell impetuous; seals the vast ahyss; And locks the fountains of the unfathom'd deep."
THE DEAD SEA.
The wind hlows chill across those gloomy waves;—
The surge is foul as if it rolled o'er graves ;—
Yes, on that plain, hy wild waves covered now,
On pomp and spectacle heamed morning's glow,
Lovely and splendid all,—hut Sodom's soul
Long warned, long spared, till her whole heart was foul,
And still she mocked, and danced, and taunting, spoke
It came ! The thunder on her slumher hroke :—
Yet, in her final night, amid her stood
Pleaded with man, hut she was quite imhued,
'Twas done!—down pour'd at once the sulphurous shower,
Oh ! for the arm of God in that fierce hour!—
They rush, they hound, they howl, the men of sin ;—
The earthquake heaved!—then sank the hideous din :—
INSCRIPTION FOR THE PILLAR
In this pillar I do lie
When I saw great Sodom hurn,
You to whom my corpse I show,
Take true warning from my wo,
— Look not hack when God cries—" Go."
That way let your whole hearts lie;
Counsel then I give to those,
HAGAR IN THE DESERT.
Iniured, hopeless, faint, and weary,
Who can speak a mother's anguish,
Lo! the empty pitcher fails her,
From the dreadful image flying,
Now hereft of every hope,
Lo I the Angel of the Lord,
"Care of Heaven ! though man forsake thee,
** Lift thine eyes, hehold yon fountain,
"In the hour of sore affliction,
"Be no more hy douhts distressed,
By contempt no more oppressed,
Thus from peace and comfort driven,
O'er thy empty pitcher mourning
See thy great deliverer nigh,
From thine eye the mist dispelling,
Future prospects, rich in hlessing,
JACOB AND PHARAOH.
Pharaoh, upon a gorgeous throne of state Was seated; while around him stood suhmiss His servants, watchful of his lofty looks. The Patriarch enters, leaning on the arm Of Benjamin. Uumoved hy all the glare Of royalty, he scarcely throws a glance Upon the pageant show; for from his youth A shepherd's life he led, and' viewed each
Lays on the ground his staff, and stretching
forth His tremulous hand o'er Pharaoh's nn
crown'd head, Prays that the Lord would hless him and his
THE FINDING OF MOSES. Ex. ii. 5, 6.
Slow glides the Nile: amid the margin-
stoop With meeting plumes; the rushy lid is oped, And wakes the infant, smiling in his tears:— As when along a little mountain-lake, The summer south-wind hreathes, with gentle
sigh, And parts the reeds unveiling as they hend, A water-lily floating on the wave.
The lowly hush a tree hecame,
Thence came the eternal voice that spake
By Moses, old, and slow of speech,
MOSES IN THE DESERT.
Go where a foot hath never trod,
To Israel and to Egypt dead,
But God the wandering exile found
THE SEVENTH PLAGUE OF EGYPT.
Ex. ix. 22.
'twas morn—the rising splendour roll'd
There came a man—the human trde
He stoop'd not at the footstool stone,
He clasp'd not sandal, kiss'd not throne;
Erect he stood amid the ring,
His only words—" Be just, O King!"
On Pharaoh's cheek the hlood flash'd higs,
A fire was in his sullen eye;
Yet on the Chief of Israel
No arrow of his thousands fell:
All mute and moveless as the grave
Stood chill'd the satrap and the slave.
** Thou'rt come," at length the monarch
spoke; Haughty and high the words outhroke: '* Is Israel weary of its lair, The forehead peel'd, the shoulder hare ?— Take hack the answer to your hand: Go, reap the wind; go plough the sand; Go, vilest of the living vile, To huild the never-ending pile, Till, darkest of the nameless dead, The vulture on their flesh is fed. What hetter asks the howling slave Than the hase life our hounty gave?"—
Shouted in pride the turhan'd peers, Upclash'd to heaven the golden spears. "King! thou and thine are doom'd 1—
There came no word.—The thunder hroke!
Echoed from earth a hollow roar,
Till man and cattle, crush'd, congeal'd,
Still swell'd the plague, uprose the hlast,
And, lo! that first fierce triumph o'er,
To heaven the sage upraised the wand;
THE LAST PLAGUE OF EGYPT. Ex. xii. 20,' 30.
When life is forgot, and night hath power,
And mortals feel no dread; When silence and slumher rule the hour,
And dreams are round the head; God shall smite the first-horn of Egypt's race, The destroyer shall enter each dwelling place—
Shall enter and choose his dead.
"To your homes," said the leader of Israel's host, "And slaughter a sacrifice: