Yea, from that day when Salem knelt
And bent her queenly neck
To him who was, at once, her priest
And king,-Melchisedek,
To this, when Egypt's Abraham'
The sceptre and the sword
Shakes o'er her head, her holy men
Have bowed before the Lord.
Jerusalem, I would have seen
Thy precipices steep,
The trees of palm that overhang
Thy gorges dark and deep,
The goats that cling along thy cliffs,
And browse upon thy rocks,
Beneath whose shade lie down, alike,
Thy shepherds and their flocks.
I would have mused, while night hung out Her silver lamp so pale,
Beneath those ancient olive-trees
That grow in Kedron's vale,
Whose foliage from the pilgrim hides
The city's wall sublime,
Whose twisted arms and gnarled trunks
Defy the scythe of time.
The garden of Gethsemane
Those aged olive-trees
Are shading yet, and in their shade
I would have sought the breeze,
That, like an angel, bathed the brow,
And bore to heaven the prayer
Of Jesus, when in agony,
He sought the Father there.
'This name is now generally written Ibrahim.
I would have gone to Calvary,
And, where the Marys stood,
Bewailing loud the Crucified,
As near him as they could,
I would have stood, till night o'er earth
Her heavy pall had thrown,
And thought upon my Saviour's cross,
And learned to bear my own.
Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
Thy cross thou bearest now!
An iron yoke is on thy neck,
And blood is on thy brow;
Thy golden crown, the crown of truth,
Thou didst reject as dross,
And now thy cross is on thee laid—
The crescent is thy cross!
It was not mine, nor will it be,
To see the bloody rod
That scourgeth thee, and long hath scourged,
Thou city of our God!
But round thy hill the spirits throng
Of all thy murdered seers,
And voices that went up from it
Are ringing in my ears,—
Went up that day, when darkness fell
From all thy firmament,
And shrouded thee at noon; and when
Thy temple's vail was rent,
And graves of holy men, that touched
Thy feet, gave up their dead :Jerusalem, thy prayer is heard, His blood is on thy head!
THE Rev. George Croly, LL. D., eminent as a theologian and as a writer in various departments of literature, was born in Ireland, and educated at Trinity College in Dublin. He is now rector of St. Stephens, London. His collected "Poems" were published in two octavo
YE stars! bright legions that, before all time,—
Camped on yon plain of sapphire, what shall tell
Your burning myriads, but the eye of Him
Who bade through heaven your golden chariots wheel?
Yet who earthborn can see your hosts, nor feel
Immortal impulses-Eternity?
What wonder if the o'erwrought soul should reel
With its own weight of thought, and the wild eye
See fate within your tracts of sleepless glory lie?
For ye behold the mightiest. From that steep
What ages have ye worshipped round your King?
Ye heard his trumpet sounded o'er the sleep
Of earth;-ye heard the morning angels sing.
Upon that orb, now o'er me quivering,
The gaze of Adam fixed from Paradise ;
The wanderers of the deluge saw it spring
Above the mountain surge, and hailed its rise
Lightning their lonely track with hope's celestial dyes.
On Calvary shot down that purple eye,
When, but the soldier and the sacrifice,
All were departed.-Mount of Agony !
But Time's broad pinion, ere the giant dies,
Shall cloud your dome.-Ye fruitage of the skies,
Your vineyard shall be shaken!-From your urn
Censers of Heaven! no more shall glory rise,
Your incense to the Throne!-The heavens shall burn: For all your pomps are dust, and shall to dust return.
Yet look, ye living intellects.-The trine
Of waning planets, speaks it not decay?
Does Schedir's staff of diamond wave no sign?
Monarch of midnight, Sirius, shoots thy ray
Undimmed, when thrones sublunar pass away ?
Dreams!-yet if e'er was graved in vigil wan
Your spell on gem or imaged alchemy,
The sign when empire's hourglass downwards ran, 'Twas on that arch, graved on that brazen talisman.
FROM A PICTURE BY WASHINGTON ALLSTON, A. R. A.
THE sun was sinking on the mountain zone
That guards thy vales of beauty, Palestine!
And lovely from the desert rose the moon,
Yet lingering on the horizon's purple line,
Like a pure spirit o'er its earthly shrine.
Up Padan-aram's height abrupt and bare
A pilgrim toiled, and oft on day's decline
Looked pale, then paused for eve's delicious air;
The summit gained, he knelt, and breathed his evening prayer.
He spread his cloak and slumbered-darkness fell
Upon the twilight hills; a sudden sound
Of silver trumpets o'er him seemed to swell;
Clouds heavy with the tempest gathered round;
Yet was the whirlwind in its caverns bound;
Still deeper rolled the darkness from on high,
Gigantic volume upon volume wound;
Above, a pillar shooting to the sky,
Below, a mighty sea, that spread incessantly.
Voices are heard-a choir of golden strings,
Low winds, whose breath is loaded with the rose;
Then chariot-wheels-the nearer rush of wings;
Pale lightning round the dark pavilion glows,
It thunders-the resplendent gates unclose;
Far as the eye can glance, on height o'er height,
Rise fiery waving wings, and star-crowned brows,
Millions on millions, brighter and more bright,
Till all is lost in one supreme, unmingled light.
But, two beside the sleeping pilgrim stand,
Like cherub kings, with lifted, mighty plume,
Fixed, sunbright eyes, and looks of high command.
They tell the patriarch of his glorious doom;
Father of countless myriads that shall come,
Sweeping the land like billows of the sea,
Bright as the stars of heaven from twilight's gloom,
Till He is given whom angels long to see,
And Israel's splendid line is crowned with Deity.
"EARTH to earth, and dust to dust!"
Here the evil and the just,
Here the youthful and the old,
Here the fearful and the bold,
Here the matron and the maid,
In one silent bed are laid:
Here the vassal and the king
Side by side lie withering;
Here the sword and sceptre rust—
Earth to earth, and dust to dust!"
Age on age shall roll along,
O'er this pale and mighty throng:
Those that wept then, those that weep,
All shall with these sleepers sleep;
Brothers, sisters of the worm:
Summer's sun, or winter's storm,
Song of peace, or battle's roar,
Ne'er shall break their slumbers more;
Death shall keep his solemn trust—
"Earth to earth, and dust to dust!"
|