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Of three bright colours, each divine, * The brightest or blackest, is fill’d with my And fit for that celestial sign;

fame. For Freedom's hand had blended them, I have warr'd with a world which vanquish'd Like tints in an immortal gem.

me only One tint was of the sunbeani's dyes ;

When the meteor of conquest allured me too far ; One, the blue depth of Seraph's eyes ;

I have coped with the nations which dread me

thus lonely, One, the pure Spirit's veil of white Had robed in radiance of its light:

The last single captive to millions in war. The three so mingled did beseem

Farewell to thee, France ! when thy diadem The texture of a heavenly dream.

crown'd me, Star of the brave ! thy ray is pale,

I made thee the gem and the wonder of earth; And darkness must again prevail !

But thy weakness decrees I should leave as I But, O thou Rainbow of the free!

found thee, Our tears and blood must flow for thee. Decay'd in thy glory, and sunk in thy worth. When thy bright promise fades away,

Oh ! for the veteran hearts that were wasted Our life is but a load of clay.

In strife with the storm, when their battles were And Freedom hallows with her tread

Then the Eagle, whose gaze in that moment The silent cities of the dead ;

was blasted, For beautiful in death are they Who proudly fall in her array;

Had still soar'd with eyes fix'd on victory's sun ! And soon, O Goddess ! may we be Farewell to thee, France !-But when Liberty For evermore with them or thee!


Once more in thy regions, remember me then,NAPOLEON'S FAREWELL.

The violet still grows in the depth of thy valleys;

Though wither'd, thy tear will unfold it again. FROM THE FRENCH.

Yet, yet I may baffle the hosts that surround FAREWELL to the Land where the gloom of my us, glory

And yet may thy heart leap awake to my voiceArose and o'ershadow'd the earth with her There are links which must break in the chain

that has bound us, She abandons me now—but the page of her Then turn thee and call on the Chief of thy story,


won :


HEBREW MELODIES. The subsequent poems were written at the request of my friend the Hon. Douglas Kinnaird for

a Selection of Hebrew Melodies. SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY,

It soften'd men of iron mould,

It gave them virtues not their own;
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies ;

No ear so dull, no soul so cold,

That felt not, fired not to the tone,
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes :

Till David's lyre grew mightier than his

throne. Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

It told the triumphs of our King,

It wafted glory to our God; One shade the more, one ray the less,

It made our gladden'd valleys ring,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace

The cedars bow, the mountains nod ;
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face ;

Its sound aspired to heaven and their abode! Where thoughts serenely sweet express,

Since then, though heard on earth no more,

Devotion and her daughter Love,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

Still bid the bursting spirit soar
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, To sounds that seem as from above,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

In dreams that day's broad light can not The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

remove. But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below,

IF THAT HIGH WORLD. A heart whose love is minocent!

IF that high world, which lies beyond

Our own, surviving Love endcars ;

If there the cherish'd heart be fond,

The cye the same, except in tears -

How welcome those untrodden spheres ! The harp the monarch minstrel swept,

How sweet this very hour to die ! The King of men, the loved of Heaven,

To soar from earth, and find all fears
Which Music hallow'd while she wept

Lost in thy light-Eternity!
O'er tones her heart of hearts had given,
Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven!

It must be so : 'tis not for self

That we so tremble on the brink; * The tricolour.

And striving to o'erleap the gulf,

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Yet cling to Bein.g's severing link.

Oh! in that future let us think
To hold each heart the heart that shares ;

Since our Country, our God-oh, my sire! With them the immortal waters drink,

Demand that thy daughter expire ;
And soul in soul grow deathless theirs !

Since thy triumph was bought by thy vow-
Strike the bosom that's bared for thee now!

And the voice of my mourning is o'er,

And the mountains behold me no more: The wild gazelle on Judah's hills

If the hand that I love lay me low,
Exulting yet may bound,

There cannot be pain in the blow!
And drink from all the living rills

And of this, O my father! be sure-
That gush on holy ground:

That the blood of thy child is as pure
Its airy step and glorious eye

As the blessing I beg ere it flow,
May glance in tameless transport by : And the last thought that soothes me below.
A step as fleet, an eye more bright,

Though the virgins of Salem lament,
Hath Judah witness'd there ;

Be the judge and the hero unbent !
And o'er her scenes of lost delight

I have won the great battle for thee,
Inhabitants more fair.

And my father and country are free!
The cedars wave on Lebanon,

When this blood of thy giving hath gush'd,
But Judah's statelier maids are gone ! When the voice that thou lovest is hush'd,
More blest each palm that shades those Let my memory still be thy pride,

And forget not I smiled as I died !
Than Israel's scatter'd race ;
For, taking root, it there remains

In solitary grace;

It cannot quit its place of birth,
It will not live in other earth.

OH! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom, But we must wander witheringly,

On thee shall press no ponderous tomb; In other lands to die :

But on thy turf shall roses rear And where our fathers' ashes be,

Their leaves, the earliest of the year ;

And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom : Our own may never lie: Our temple hath not left a stone,

And oft by yon blue gushing stream And Mockery sits on Salem's throne. Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,

And feed deep thought with many a dream,

And lingering pause and lightly tread ; OH! WEEP FOR THOSE.

Fond wretch! as if her step disturb’d the

dead! OH! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream, Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream; Away! we know that tears are vain, Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell ; That death nor heeds nor hears distress : Mourn—where their God hath dwelt, the god. Will this unteach us to complain? less dwell!

Or make one mourner weep the less ?
And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet?

And thou—who tell'st me to forget
And when shall Zion's songs again seem sweet? Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.
And Judah's melody once more rejoice
The hearts that leap'd before its heavenly


My soul is dark-oh! quickly string Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast, The harp I yet can brook to hear ; How shall ye flee away and be at rest!

And let thy gentle fingers fling The wild-dove hath her nest, the fox his cave, Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear. Mankind their country-Israel but the grave !

If in this heart a hope be dear,

That sound shall charm it forth again :

If in these eyes there lurk a tear,

'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain. On Jordan's banks the Arab's camels stray, But bid the strain be wild and deep, On Sion's hill the False One's votaries pray,

Nor let thy notes of joy be first: The Baal-adorer bows on Sinai's steep

I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep, Yet there--even there-O God! Thy thunders Or else this heavy heart will burst; sleep :

For it hath been by sorrow nursed, There—where Thy finger scorch'd the tablet And ached in sleepless silence long: stone!

And now 'tis doom'd to know the worst, There--where Thy shadow to Thy people shone! And break at once-or yield to song. Thy glory shrouded in its garb of fire : Thyself—none living see and not expire ! Oh! in the lightning let thy glance appear;

I SAW THEE WEEP. Sweep from his shiver'd hand the oppressor's I saw thee weep---the big bright tear spear:

Came o'er that eye of blue; How long by tyrants shall Thy land be trod ? And then methought it did appear How long Thy temple worshipless, O God !

A violet dropping dew :

I saw thee smile—the sapphire's blaze

Beside thee ceased to shine;
It could not match the living rays

That fill'd that glance of thine.
As clouds from yonder sun receive

A deep and mellow dye, Which scarce the shade of coming eve

Can banish from the sky, Those smiles unto the moodiest mind

Their own pure joy impart ; Their sunshine leaves a glow behind

That lightens o'er the heart.


BATTLE. Warriors and chiefs ! should the shaft or the

sword Pierce me in leading the host of the Lord, Heed not the corse, though a king's, in your

path : Bury your steel in the bosoms of Gath! Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow, Should the soldiers of Saul look away from the

foe, Stretch me that moment in blood at thy feet! Mine be the doom which they dared not to meet. Farewell to others, but never we part, Heir to my royalty, son of my heart ! Bright is the diadem, boundless the sway, Or kingly the death, which awaits us to-day.

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THY days are done, thy fame begun;

Thy country's strains record
The triumphs of her chosen son,

The slaughters of his sword !
The deeds he did, the fields he won,

The freedom he restored !
Though thou art fall’n, while we are free

Thou shalt not taste of death! The generous blood that flow'd from thee

Disdain'd to sink beneath :
Within our veins its currents be,

Thy spirit on our breath!
Thy name, our charging hosts along,

Shall be the battle-word!
Thy fall, the theme of choral song

From virgin voices pour'd !
To weep would do thy glory wrong:

Thou shalt not be deplored.


PREACHER.” FAME, wisdom, love, and power were mine,

And health and youth possess'd me; My goblets blush'd from


And lovely forms caress'd me:
I sunn'd my heart in beauty's eyes,
And felt


grow tender; All earth can give, or mortal prize,

Was mine of regal splendour.
I strive to number o'er what days

Remembrance can discover,
Which all that life or earth displays

Would lure me to live over.
There rose no day, there roll'd no hour

Of pleasure unembitter'd ;
And not a trapping deck'd my power

That gall’d not while it glitter'd.
The serpent of the field, by art

And spells, is won from harming ; But that which coils around the heart,

Oh! who hath power of charming ? It will not list to wisdom's lore,

Nor music's voice can lure it; But there it stings for evermore The soul that must endure it.

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 hand 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

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?
Is it thou, O King? Behold,
Bloodless are these limbs, and cold :
Such are mine ; and such shall be
Thine to-morrow, when with me :
Ere the coming day is done,
Such shalt thou be, such thy son.
Fare thee well, but for a day,
Then we mix our mouldering clay.
Thou, thy race, lie pale and low,
Pierced by shafts of many a bow;
And the falchion by thy side
To thy heart thy hand shall guide :
Crownless, breathless, headless fall,
Son and sire, the house of Saul !”


SUFFERING CLAY. When coldness wraps this suffering clay,

Ah! whither strays the immortal mind? It cannot die, it cannot stay,

But leaves its darken'd dust behind. Then, unembodied, doth it trace

By steps each planet's heavenly way? Or fill at once the realms of space,

A thing of eyes, that all survey? Eternal, boundless, undecay'd,

A thought unseen, but seeing all,
All, all in earth or skies display'd,

Shall it survey, shall it recall :
Each fainter trace that memory holds

So darkly of departed years,
In one broad glance the soul beholds,

And all that was at once appears.
Before Creation peopled earth,

eye shall roll through chaos back :

And where the furthest heaven had birth, That show'st the darkness thou canst not dispel, The spirit trace its rising track.

How like art thou to joy remember'd well! And where the future mars or makes, So gleams the past, the light of other days, Its glance dilate o'er all to be,

Which shines, but warms not with its powerless While sun is quench'd, or system breaks,

rays; Fix'd in its own eternity.

A night-beam Sorrow watcheth to behold, Above or Love, Hope, Hate, or Fear,

Distinct, but distant-clear, but oh, how cold ! It lives all passionless and pure :

WERE MY BOSOM AS FALSE AS THOU An age shall fleet like earthly year; Its years as moments shall endure,

DEEM'ST IT TO BE. Away, away, without a wing,

Were my bosom as false as thou deem'st it to be,
O'er all, through all, its thought shall Ay, I need not have wandered from far Galilee ;
A nameless and eternal thing,

It was but abjuring my creed to efface
Forgetting what it was to die.

The curse which, thou say'st, is the crime of


If the bad never triumph, then God is with thee!
The King was on his throne,

If the slave only sin, thou art spotless and free !
The Satraps throng'd the hall : If the exile on earth is an outcast on high,
A thousand bright lamps shone

Live on in thy faith, but in mine I will die.
O'er that high festival.

I have lost for that faith more than thou canst A thousand cups of gold,

bestow, In Judah deem'd divine

As the God who permits thee to prosper doth Jehovah's vessels hold

know; The godless Heathen's wine,

In His hand is my heart and my hope-and in In that same hour and hall,

The fingers of a hand

The land and the life which for Him I resign.
Came forth against the wall,
And wrote as if on sand:

The fingers of a man ;-
A solitary hand

Oy, Mariamne! now for thee
Along the letters ran,

The heart for which thou bled'st is bleeding :
And traced them like a wand.

Revenge is lost in agony,

And wild remorse to rage succeeding.
The monarch saw, and shook,

Oh, Mariamne I where art thou?
And bade no more rejoice ;

Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading:
All bloodless wax'd his look,

Ah! couldst thou-thou wouldst pardon now, And tremulous his voice.

Though Heaven were to my prayer unheeding.
“Let the men of lore appear,
The wisest of the earth,

And is she dead ?-and did they dare
And expound the words of fear,

Obey my frenzy's jealous raving?
Which mar our royal mirth.'

My wrath but doom'd my own despair:

The sword that smote her's o'er me waving.
Chaldea's seers are good,

But thou art cold, my murder'd love !
But here they ha no skill;

And this dark heart is vainly
And the unknown letters stood

For her who soars alone above,
Untold and awful still.

And leaves my soul unworthy saving.
And Babel's men of age.

Are wise and deep in lore;


who shared my diadem; But now they were not sage,

She sunk, with her my joys entombing : They saw-. but knew no more.

I swept that flower from Judah's stem,

Whose leaves for me alone were blooming:
A captive in the land,

And mine's the guilt, and mine the hell,
A stranger and a youth,

This bosom's desolation dooming;
He heard the king's command,

And I have earn'd those tortures well,
He saw that writing's truth.

Which unconsumed are still consuming!
The lamps around were bright,

The prophecy in view ;
He read it on that night,--

The morrow proved it true.

Belshazzar's grave is made,

From the last hill that looks on thy once holy
His kingdom pass'd away,

dome, He, in the balance weigh'd,

I beheld thee, O Sion, when render'd to Rome: Is light and worthless clay;

'Twas thy last sun went down, and the flames The shroud his robe of state,

of thy fall His canopy the stone ;

Flash'd back on the last glance I gave to thy The Mede is at his gate !

wall, The Persian on his throne."

I look'd for thy temple, I look'd for my home, SUN OF THE SLEEPLESS!

And forgot for a moment my bondage to come: Sun of the sleepless ! melancholy star!

I beheld but the death-fire that fed on thy fane, Whose tearful beam glows tremulously far,

And the fast-fetter'd hands that made vengeance

in vain,

On many an eve, the high spot whence I gazed | Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is
Had reflected the last beam of day as it blazed ; green,
While I stood on the height, and beheld the de- That host with their banners at sunset were seen:

Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath Of the rays from the mountain that shone on thy blown, shrine.

That host on the morrow lay wither’dand strown. And now on that mountain I stood on that day, For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the But I mark'd not the twilight beam melting

blast, away!

And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd ; Oh! would that the lightning had glared in its And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and stead,

chill And the thunderbolt burst on the conqueror's And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever head!

grew still ! But the gods of the Pagan shall never profane The shrine where Jehovah disdain'd not to reign; And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, And scatter'd and scorn'd as Thy people may be, But through it there roll'd not the breath of his Our worship, O Father! is only for Thee.

pride ;

And the foam of his gasping lay white on the BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON WE SAT And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.


And there lay the rider distorted and pale, We sat down and wept by the waters With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his Of Babel, and thought of the day

mail ; When our foe, in the hue of his slaughters, And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,

Made Salem's high places his prey ; And ye, O her desolate daughters !

The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. Were scatter'd all weeping away.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, While sadly we gazed on the river

And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; Which rollid on in freedom below,

And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the They demanded the song, but, oh, never

sword, That triumph the stranger shall know !

Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord! May this right hand be wither'd for ever, Ere it string our high harp for the foe!

On the willow that harp is suspended,
O Salem ! its sound should be free ;

And the hour when thy glories were ended A SPIRIT pass'd before me: I beheld
But left me that token of thee :

The face of immortality unveil'd-
And ne'er shall its soft tones be blended Deep sleep came down on every eye save
With the voice of the spoiler by me!


And there it stood-all formless, but divine : THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB. Along my bones the creeping flesh did quake ; THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the

And as my damp hair stiffen'd, thus it ake : fold,

"Is man morejust than God? Is man more pure And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and l'han He who deems even Seraphs insecure

? gold ;

Creatures of clay-vain dwellers in the dust And the sheen of their spears was like stars on The moth survives you, and are ye more just ?

Things of a day! you wither ere the night, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Heedless and blind to Wisdom's wasted light!"

the sea,

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