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SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST BATTLE,
WARRIORS and chiefs ! should the shaft or the sword
Thou whose spell can raise the dead,
Bid the prophet's form appear: “Samuel, raise thy buried head !
King, behold the phantom seer !”. Earth yawn'd: he stood the centre of a cloud : Light changed its hue, retiring from his shroud. Death stood all glassy in his fixed eye ; His band was wither'd, and his veins were dry; His foot, in bony whiteness, glitter'd there, Shrunken and sinewless, and ghastly bare ; From lips that moved not, and unbreathing frame Like cavern'd winds, the hollow accents came. Saul saw, and fell to earth, as falls the oak, At once, and blasted by the thunder-stroke.
“Why is my sleep disquieted ?
Who is he that calls the dead ?
“ ALL IS VANITY, SAITH THE PREACHER."
FAME, wisdom, love, and power were mine,
And health and youth possess'd me;
And lovely forms caress'd me;
And felt my soul grow tender;
Was mine of regal splendour.
Remembrance can discover,
Would lure me to live over.
Of pleasure unembitter'd;
That gall'd not while it glitter'd.
And spells, is won from harming ;
Oh! who hath power of charming ?
Nor music's voice can lure it;
The soul that must endure it.
WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS SUFFERING CLAY
WHEN coldness wraps this suffering clay,
Ah! whither strays the immortal mind ?
But leaves its darken'd dust behind.
By steps each planet's heavenly way!
A thing of eyes, that all survey?
A thought unseen, but seeing all,
Shall it survey, shall it recall :
So darkly of departed years,
And all, that was, at once appears.
Its eye shall roll through chaos back
The spirit trace its rising track,
And where the future mars or makes,
Its glance dilate o'er all to be, While
sun is quench'd or system breaks, Fix'd in its own eternity.
Above or Love, Hope, Hate, or Fear,
It lives all passionless and pure : An age shall feet like earthly year;
Its years as moments shall enduré. Away, away, without a wing,
O'er all, through all, its thought sha!! fig; A nameless and eternal thing.
Forgetting what it was to die.
VISION OF BELSHAZZAR.
The King was on his throne,
The Satraps throng'd the hall ;
O'er that high festival.
In Judah deem'd divine-
The godless heathen's wine.
The fingers of a hand
And wrote as if on sand:
A solitary hand
And traced them like a wand.
The monarch saw, and shook,
And bade no more rejoice;
And tremulous his voice.
The wisest of the earth,
Which mar our royal mirth."
But here they have no skill ;
Untold and awful still.
Are wise and deep in lore;
They saw-but knew no more
A captive in the land,
A stranger and a youth,
He saw that writing's truth.
The prophecy in view;
The morrow proved it true.
His kingdom pass'd away,
Is light and worthless clay.
His canopy the stone :
The Persian on his throne !"
SUN OF THE SLEEPLESS.
Sun of the sleepless ! melancholy star!
WERE MY BOSOM AS FALSE AS THOU
DEEM'ST IT TO BE.
WERE my bosom as false as thou deem'st it to be,
HEROD'S LAMENT FOR MARIAMNE,
On, Mariamne! now for thee
T'he heart for which thou bled'st is bleeding : Revenge is lost in agony,
And wild remorse to rage succeeding.
Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading.
Though Heaven were to my prayer unheeding.
Obey my frenzy's jealous raving ?
The sword that smote her 's o'er me waving.
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 !
ON THE DAY OF THE DESTRUCTION OF
JERUSALEM BY TITUS.
FROM the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome
bebeld but the death-fire that feil on thy fane,