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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,
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;
No ear so dull, no soul so cold,
That felt not, fired not to the tone,
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,
The cedars bow, the mountains nod ;
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,
Still bid the bursting spirit soar
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
Lost in thy light-Eternity!
It must be so : 'tis not for self
That we so tremble on the brink; * The tricolour.
And striving to o'erleap the gulf,
Yet cling to Bein.g's severing link.
Since our Country, our God-oh, my sire! With them the immortal waters drink,
Demand that thy daughter expire ;
Since thy triumph was bought by thy vow-
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,
There cannot be pain in the blow!
And of this, O my father! be sure-
That the blood of thy child is as pure
As the blessing I beg ere it flow,
Though the virgins of Salem lament,
Be the judge and the hero unbent !
I have won the great battle for thee,
And my father and country are free!
When this blood of thy giving hath gush'd,
And forget not I smiled as I died !
OH ! SNATCH'D AWAY IN BEAUTY'S
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 thou—who tell'st me to forget
MY SOUL IS DARK.
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;
That fill'd that glance of thine.
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.
SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST
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.
THY DAYS ARE DONE.
Thy country's strains record
The slaughters of his sword !
The freedom he restored !
Thou shalt not taste of death! The generous blood that flow'd from thee
Disdain'd to sink beneath :
Thy spirit on our breath!
Shall be the battle-word!
From virgin voices pour'd !
Thou shalt not be deplored.
ALL IS VANITY, SAITH THE
PREACHER.” FAME, wisdom, love, and power were mine,
And health and youth possess'd me; My goblets blush'd from
grow tender; All earth can give, or mortal prize,
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 ; 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.
Bid the prophet's form appear,
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
“Why is my sleep disquieted ?
WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS
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,
Shall it survey, shall it recall :
So darkly of departed years,
And all that was at once appears.
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,
It was but abjuring my creed to efface
The curse which, thou say'st, is the crime of
my race. VISION OF BELSHAZZAR.
If the bad never triumph, then God is with thee!
If the slave only sin, thou art spotless and free !
Live on in thy faith, but in mine I will die.
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 land and the life which for Him I resign.
HEROD'S LAMENT FOR MARIAMNE.
Oy, Mariamne! now for thee
The heart for which thou bled'st is bleeding :
Revenge is lost in agony,
And wild remorse to rage succeeding.
Oh, Mariamne I where art thou?
Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading:
Ah! couldst thou-thou wouldst pardon now, And tremulous his voice.
Though Heaven were to my prayer unheeding.
And is she dead ?-and did they dare
Obey my frenzy's jealous raving?
My wrath but doom'd my own despair:
The sword that smote her's o'er me waving.
But thou art cold, my murder'd love !
And this dark heart is vainly
For her who soars alone above,
And leaves my soul unworthy saving.
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:
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!
The prophecy in view ;
ON THE DAY OF THE DESTRUCTION OF
JERUSALEM BY TITUS.
From the last hill that looks on thy once holy
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
On many an eve, the high spot whence I gazed | Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is
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
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.
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.
turf, DOWN AND WEPT.
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!
A SPIRIT PASSED BEFORE ME.
The face of immortality unveil'd-
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!"