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The sight o'er her cheek throws a slight hasty flush,
That, passing, to death's sudden palor gives place;
As leaves of the rose, that too rudely we brush,
Will pass down the side of the pure, snowy vase.

Her life seems departing-her soul taking wing,
Its lustre to shed on its dwelling of clay.
The monarch beholds her; and ruler and king
In lover and husband have melted away.

For love hath an impetus strong in his breast,
And full are the fountains it moves by its force.
The pure gush of feeling can ill be repressed
When this power mysterious reigns at the source.

He leaps from the throne, and her tottering form Is clasped to his heart, as he fain would confine The flickering flame, still the temple to warm

Would hold back the spirit to brighten the shrine.

And now that his Esther may feel in her hold
His glittering sceptre, her terrors to check,
Her white nerveless fingers he bends round the gold,
His rod he with gentleness rests on her neck.

His signals of safety in darkness are hid

Her vision has failed; and, with grief and alarm, He marks the cold forehead, the eye's falling lid, The pale sinking burden that hangs on his arm.

Affection's soft voice he essays, to awake

His paralyzed bride from so fearful a sleep; He calls on her name, that her answer may break The spell of a silence so awfully deep.

At length, the checked pulse is beginning to play. The strings of the harp are again put in tune. The clouds that came over the morn, fly away;

And life kindles up from the death of the swoon.

The light that had fled coming back to her eye,
She sees on whose bosom her head is at rest;
By lips parting first but to heave out a sigh,

The thoughts of her heart reassured, are confessed.

"Forgive me, my lord; for in splendor arrayed,
I saw thee so comely and great, that, bereft
Of strength for its purpose, my soul was afraid,
And fled from thy face!-I had no spirit left."

"Oh, speak not of fear," are the words of the king, "But tell me thy wish; if to grant it 'tis mine, Though this be the gift of my own signet ring, And even the half of my kingdom, 'tis thine!

""Twixt thee and thy purpose shall naught intervene, Believe, by my throne and the crown on my head! The law is for subjects, and not for the queen,

Who reigns in the heart of their sovereign, to dread."

And now to her people is safety restored,

With peace and their rights; when resistance had failed A woman in weakness, who drew on the Lord

For strength, o'er the mighty of earth has prevailed.

Fair Jewess, the tears thou hast dropped in the dust,
Thy name on the palm of Jehovah shall write !
The hand that, in sorrow, has here been thy trust,
Will crown thee in glory, an angel of light!

H. F. GOULD.

NOTE.-It will be perceived that the scene from which this poem takes its materials, has been kept in view as given by Josephus, in company with the account by the sacred historian.

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