THE 
 
 CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON 
 
T II fi 
 
 CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON 
 
 OTHER POEMS 
 
 J 
 
 REV. JOSEPH H. CLINCH, A. M. 
 
 BOSTON : 
 
 JAMES BURNS, 101 WASHINGTON STREET. 
 
 1840. 
 

 \<v i ["OH I w BNTWORTH 
 
 i i. . 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 TBI CAPTIVITY IH BABYLON, 1 
 
 AMEBICAE ANTIQUITIES, ** 
 
 
 <>(•> 
 
 : . vi. : . MOUND BBVISIl )•;', TO 
 
 TO 
 
 A, - - Ti 
 
 H2 
 
 ATHENS, 
 
 BPBINO, V ... 85 
 
 TO a CLOUD) ^ 
 
 RIZPAH, •*•' 
 
 LETHE, W 
 
 THE PASSAGE OF THE 70BDAN, 105 
 
 THE KENNEBEC, **> 
 
TO 
 
 THE EROSOPHIAN ADELPHI 
 
 OF 
 
 WGJaterbfile College, iSaftie, 
 THIS POEM, 
 
 DELIVERED BEFORE THEM 
 
 AT THEIR RECENT ANNIVERSARY, 
 IS DEDICATED. 
 
 Bocttn, September, 1839- 
 
THE 
 
 CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON 
 
 I. 
 
 Not through the maze of philosophic song, 
 Nor o'er the wilds of metaphysic lore, 
 Although to these unnumbered themes belong, 
 The muse to-day on trembling wing would soar ; — 
 In homely guise she seeks to wander o'er 
 The fields of simple Narrative again, 
 And, taught by voices from the Past, to pour 
 Her descant wild, commingled with the strain 
 Which swept from Judah's harps o'er Babel's spacious plain. 
 1 
 
THE CAPTIVITY i\ BABYLON. 
 
 II. 
 
 Broad is the plain of Shinar. 1 and as fair 
 As it is broad and fertile; vineyards rise 
 And waving cornfields glimmer here and there 
 Through groves of spreading palms : the cloudless skies 
 Bond in blue audi above — the South wind's sighs 
 Breathe perfume round, and the Euphrates, slow, 
 Deep and majestic, like a mirror lies 
 Catching morn's earliest glory^ as still low 
 The orient sun springs up, bidding all nature glow. 
 
 III. 
 
 But not on thee, Euphrates, his first smile 
 Falls, as he looks on Earth ; — long ere thy stream 
 Reddens beneath his radiance, the tall pile 
 Of Belus hails his coming, and a beam 
 Of brightness wraps his towers in one rich gleam 
 Of ruby and of gold : then down the wall 
 Runs the rich gtory, till, like fairy dream. 
 Palace and arch and dome and pillar tall 
 Burst brilliant on the eye from Night's enclosing pall. 
 
THE CAP! IVIl V l 1 
 
 IV. 
 
 There standeth Babylon the mighty : 2 — grand, 
 
 [y and lone amid the spreading plain, 
 E'i i an E tern queen may proudly stand 
 Withoul a rival near : the eye in vain 
 Strives the stupendous object to contain ; 
 For liy the river's brink on either side 
 For many a mile (by tall and gilded fane 
 And waving garden 3 in exalted pride 
 Overtopped) the giant wall out wide. 
 
 V. 
 
 And many a dark-browed gate, by m 
 
 Planked, and ited by deep chiselled stone, 
 
 On which the handiwork of skilful craft 
 
 <\<:(:i\i<j\ exhausted, there hath shown 
 caled in many a to 
 Knotted and twined ; — the valves of solid ore 
 Below fling back the splendors o'er them thrown 
 From the unclouded sun, while on the fl< 
 Broadly the shade- rod corridor. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Above, high up along the frowning wall 
 Hang the embattled parapets, which sweep 
 In long perspective onward, until all 
 Melt in the distance, though the eye may keep 
 For many a mile beyond (until the deep 
 Dimness of space forbids) the towers which hide 
 The archers and balistae ; bright they sleep, 
 Crowning the long defences, in the tide 
 Which morning pours around on all that home of Pride. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Within, along her streets of palaces, 
 The mighty stream of human life rolls by, — 
 Sorrow and Joy, and Pain and careless Ease, 
 Youth and Old Age — Beauty — Deformity — 
 Health — Sickness — Want and Splendor — on the eye 
 Tress million after million, though the street 
 Hath yet uncrowded space : the busy cry 
 Of Labor, and the sounds of myriad feet 
 And Art's continual hum, in one wild murmur meet. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Nor from the streets alone the sounds of life 
 Rise in commingled tones ; — the porticoes — 
 The temple steps — the walls — with noise are rife, — 
 The bridge across the river's deep repose 
 Swarms with its thousands, and the stairs 4 which close 
 The stream on either hand are tenanted ; 
 And music over all its softness throws 
 From many a pinnace, gilt and garlanded, 
 With flags and silken sails o'er broad Euphrates spread. 
 
 IX. 
 
 And here and there along the level way 
 Pass menial bands, with robes of Tyrian dye, 
 Of guarding slaves, whose mistress goes to pay 
 Her early call of courtesy : — on high 
 O'er her gemmed litter spreads a canopy 
 Of silk whose crimson folds the morning gale 
 Plays gaily with, and flutters fitful by, 
 Lifting the fringe, whose silver bells their tale 
 Of tinkling music tell — a soft, rich, slumberous wail. 
 1* 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN EABYLON. 
 
 X. 
 
 High on the echoing road which bends around 
 The lofty summit of the broad-topped wall, 
 Sweeps by, with glittering pomp and thundering sound. 
 The chariot of some noble, whom the call 
 Of duty or of pleasure wakes to all 
 The glories of the scene : — his prancing steeds 
 Fret on the golden bit, and toss their tall 
 White plumes, and shake their breast-encircling beads. 
 And stamp with restless foot, if aught their course impedes. 
 
 XI. 
 
 While stationed at each gemmed and studded rein 
 Attendants run in splendid dress arrayed, 
 Their turbans looped with jewels and their cane 
 Of office with bright rings of gold inlaid ; 
 And low upon the dust each servile head 
 Bends in profound obeisance as that train 
 Of gorgeous state sweeps by ; too well repaid 
 If the proud Satrap from his height but deign 
 To wave his ivory wand, and bid them rise again. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Bui lo ! he pauses o'er the Western gate, 
 And looks across the plain with eager gaze, 
 Along whose level margin (which but late 
 Slept still and silent in the day-god's blaze, 
 Moving alone with morning's gauze-like haze,) 
 Now sweeps a long, dark, slowly moving train, 
 Which, as it nears the City wall, displays 
 Steeds, camels, oxen with the groaning wain, 
 And footmen, dragging slow the weary step of pain. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Who may they be ? — Traders from foreign land 
 Laden with goodly merchandise? — bright gold 
 From distant Ophir ? gems from Afric's strand ? 
 Linens from Egypt ? gums of price untold, 
 And rich Saba^an odors, to be rolled 
 In smoking incense at the gleaming shrine 
 Of Belus or of Ashtaroth ? or hold 
 Those heavy wains, the juice of Sibmah's vine, 
 Or that from farther hills where milder suns may shine ? 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Yet why with lance and banner come they on ? 
 Thy need not these on peaceful journey bent 
 O'er Shinar's plain to strong-armed Babylon. 
 Is it some distant Satrap who hath sent 
 His troops with long owed tribute, to prevent 
 The monarch's rising answer ? — or the king 
 Perchance hath humbled Judah, for he went 
 From Babylon so purposed, 5 and doth bring 
 The nation at his feet their lives and wealth to fling. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Yes ! His rebellious Judah ; — gleaming there 
 In splendid heaps upon the wains behold 
 Flagons and cups and goblets passing fair, 
 And rich chased chalices with lips of gold — 
 The vessels of their worship — formed to hold 
 Incense and wine and blood of sacrifice ; 
 And golden lamps, and, wrapped in many a fold, 
 The rich, mysterious Veil ; and gems of price 
 Which decked her priests who stood in sacrificial guise. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And altars there are piled in goodly show, 
 Plated and cased with gold, around whose rim 
 Rise crowns of chiselled ore in many a row, 
 With brazen gratings for the quivering limb 
 Of lighted sacrifice : the gold is dim 
 Still with the sprinkled blood which fell around 
 As, with the smoke, to Heaven arose the hymn 
 From white stoled Levites, chanting to the sound 
 Of psaltery and of harp within the Temple's bound. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 And there are silver cymbals which gave out 
 Their clashing music in the battle's van, 
 And bannered trumpets which prolonged the shout 
 Which, through the land to hail the new-moon, ran 
 From Bcersheba to ocean-girdled Dan ; 
 There in rich piles the golden censers lie 
 Dark with the incense smoke which rose to fan 
 The sacrificial flame, — and, piled on high 
 Jewels and gems and vests and cloths of gorgeous dye. 
 
10 nil'. 0APTIVIT1 i N BAB1 LON. 
 
 Will. 
 
 Ami there, surmounting ;ill the splendid heap, 
 The gilded table stands, whereon were laid, 
 In golden i'. i ikets richlj carved ami deep, 
 The cakes ;iimI loaves of consecrated bread ; 
 Ami there the Cherubim with wings outspread, 
 Guarding the Mercj Scat — the golden lid 
 Of the much treasured Ark, — wherein the dread 
 Stone tables of the Law are closely lad, 
 \nd man} a holj thing to touch and sighl forbid. 8 
 
 \l\. 
 
 The escorl to the gates their jaded steeds 
 I pge in advance: wide al their coming flies 
 The brazen door, ami ho die hand who leads 
 Springs through die arch and to die palace hies, 
 'To meel the \ icero) i there in humble guise 
 He speaks the monarch's orders to admit 
 The captive nation— furnish due supplies — 
 \ lign their quarters — and al season lit 
 
 Duties entrust [o each which none might intermit. 
 
! 111. I I i"i i vn v in BABYLON. I I 
 
 XX. 
 
 The ma j bolti from '■vi-y gate are drawn 
 AN. ii" the Wei tern wall, and two l>y two 
 The wi ■■•ii \ captn es march desponding on 
 To exile and to bondage : there were few 
 E'en in thai home of triumph who could view 
 Willi teai Li eye the i ad procei ion form | 
 ( )n every captive cheek the pallid hue 
 Of pain and sorrow sat, and though still warm, 
 Like Summer's rain, their tears, how bitter wai thai storm! 
 
 XXI. 
 
 There passed the sorrowing Monarch, by decree 
 ( )f in ■ i< en foe foi bid to i ee the woi 
 Which none bul demons could untroubled 
 A linen bandage w inds its folding '-I" e 
 Around hi orbles brow, 7 which burns and glo 
 With smarl of recenl torture ;— «* whilst his mind 
 Revolve the double prophi < ■•. , hi kn 
 The truth he doubted once, wh< a doubly blind, 
 Prom other hands than Gor/s, safety he sought to find. 
 
\l TUT, CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 WU. 
 
 There passed the weeping Priesl ; — his ephod rent, 
 His long, while vestmenl deeprj soiled with blood, 
 Partly Prom bleeding victim when he benl 
 Before the altar, — partly from the flood 
 
 Which (lowed around him as in arms he stood 
 
 Guarding the Temple from the spoiler's hand — 
 But all in vain! In melancholy mood 
 lie treads the streets of exile 'mid the hand 
 With bondage cursed for sin, slaves in a foreign land. 
 
 Will. 
 
 There passed the widowed Mother, at whose side 
 Two weeping orphans clung — their lather lay 
 
 Lifeless amid t ho desolation wide 
 
 Of overthrown Jerusalem, and they 
 
 Following their wretched mother far away 
 
 From their dear home, now swelled the troubled stream 
 
 Of grief, which through the open gates, to-day, 
 Of Babylon flowed in, o'er which no beam 
 Of hope or comfort fell, its darkness to redeem. 
 
FHE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 13 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 There passed the childless Father, though his arm 
 Bore what was laic of nine the youngest born, 
 Fair scions which, alas! the ruthless storm 
 IlaiJ from the blighted trunk too rudely torn; 
 For days of pain and sorrow he had worn 
 That failed flower upon his heart, too dear — 
 Too precious to relinquish ; and forlorn 
 His silent partner followed ever near, 
 N . : sorrow's founts were dry, for neither shed a tear. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 And there the noble Youth, whose brow displayed 
 The lines of age by toil and misery traecd, 
 And at his side a pale and weeping maid 
 Hangs on the arm which clasps her fragile waist; 
 In happier days thai sinking form had graced 
 Her childhood's home, and that wan lover deemed, 
 With youth's impatience, Time too leaden-paced, 
 And oft of coming hopes and joys he dreamed, 
 And that near marriage-feasl which all too distant seemed; 
 2 
 
11 THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Till, when thai morning dawned, and many a guest 
 Donned for the bridal balls his robes of pride, 
 He saw the troops of Babylon invest 
 The ancient City round on every side; — 
 
 And hill and vale in mom's refulgent tide 
 Flashed with the gold and armour of tlu 1 foe, 
 And in the home where Pleasure should abide 
 
 Came, all unbidden guests, Distress and Woe 
 And Terror, o'er the board their blasting sight to throw. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 On — on they passed : — a melancholy train — 
 A concentration of all care — all woe — 
 
 All heart-subduing sorrow and all pain 
 That Hate and War and Conquest can bestow; 
 There all the elosest ties the heart can know 
 Asunder had been rent, and despot Hate 
 
 Had bade the cup of bitterness overflow, 
 
 And yet it was not full! On their sad state 
 Exile and pinching want and degradation wait. 
 
Tin; CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 15 
 
 xxvm. 
 
 Crushed and deserted Judah! thou hast Left 
 No name among the nations ; for a race 
 Once hated — scorned and humbled, lias bereft 
 Thcc of thy ancient heritage and pi 
 And slavery now, and toil and deep disgrace 
 Musi be thy portion. Once thou wast a queen, 
 Virgin of Judah ! and thy haughty face 
 Was beautiful, but dreadful to be seen 
 By the fierce nations round who on thy aid would lean. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 But now thy sceptre is departed : — lone 
 Thou sittest by the streams of Babylon, 
 Waking in grief thy wild harm's saddest tone, 
 Wailing the former days and glories gone; 
 For of thy gr< as not one 
 
 Poor remnant, but within a foreign land, 
 A stranger and a slave, thou toilest on, 
 
 f sorrow, and thy hand 
 Fulfils from day to day a master's stern command. 
 
16 THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 No Temple sacred to Jehovah's name, 
 Arises near thee in its solemn state, 
 Echoing with hallelujahs 1 loud acclaim, 
 From countless numbers, who impatient wail 
 Admittance at its strong, majestic gate, 
 Or from its ample court in volumes vast 
 Rolling the smoke of sacrifice : stern Hate 
 Hath to the ground its lofty turrets cast, 
 And o'er its broken walls hath Desolation passed. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 The holy fire 9 in darkness hath gone out, 
 So long preserved with strict religious care, 
 No more in arms thy gathered people shout, 
 As white-robed priests the Ark to battle bear ; 
 The Urim and the Thummim 10 arc not there. 
 Nor golden cup of manna un decayed, 
 Nor Aaron's rod with budding blossoms fair, 
 Nor those mysterious tablets which were made 
 On Sinai's awful top, when God his power displayed. 
 
TIIE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 17 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Thy sins have boon thy curse, and God hath used 
 But as an instrument proud Babel's might, 
 To humble and to punish ; — that, accused 
 By thine own thoughts, and by the holy light 
 Which prophecy shall shed, thy bondage-night 
 May in its dark and lonely hours display 
 Visions of mercy to thy spirit's sight, 
 To point to thee Hope's angel-trodden way, 
 And bid thee feel thy sins, and mourn, repent, and pray. 
 ***** • 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Years have passed by : — to Dura's spacious plain 
 Millions are hurrying, not from thee alone, 
 Thou royal City, but they pour amain 
 From distant provinces and tribes unknown ; 
 The neighbor towns and cities, too, have thrown 
 Their streams of life thereon, and from the crowd 
 Voices of every dialed and tone 
 Rise mingled, as of old the discord loud 
 Rose from that very plain, 11 when God dispersed the proud. 
 2* 
 
18 THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Thither from Persis came they, and the lands 
 Of far Carmania — Syria also sent 
 Her rough barbarians, with the distant bands 
 Of Bactria and Armenia ; — others bent 
 Their steps from Media, and from many a tent 
 Arabia poured her thousands ; and the men 
 Of Tadmor came : Elam and Susa lent 
 Their dwellers, with Ecbatana, for then 
 A summons called them there which none might hear again. 
 
 •^ v 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Rising in splendor o'er each meaner thing, 
 Tall, lone and glorious, stands a god of gold, 12 
 Whose features in the sunlight glimmering 
 Smile warm and bright — though all within is cold. 
 Ah ! many an idol since to man hath told 
 Its falsehood by such smiles. Then clear and high 
 Arise the voice of heralds, who unfold 
 The King's command, to worship there or die 
 In yonder sea of flame that roars and flashes nigh. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 19 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Forthwith harmonious tones upon the air 
 Of thai still morning rise with thrilling note, 
 Wild ns the sounds /Kolian harp-strings hear, 
 Now swelling near — now more and more remote, 
 Yel in such sweet accordancy they float, 
 That magic hands appear to guide the strain ; 
 The hushed and ravished multitude devote 
 Attention so profound, thai they remain 
 Forgetful of the god a moment on the plain. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Sudden the music ceased ; to thought recalled, 
 The head of all, as one vast body, bowed ; 
 Prostrate upon the earth they fall, appalled 
 By the dark smoke which rose in sulph'rous cloud 
 From the dread furnace near ; the mighty crowd 
 Sank — but erect, amid the suppliants there, 
 Three noble forms remained — untrembling — proud- 
 Bold in a righteous cause, they scorned to share 
 The rites to idols paid — the foul, unholy prayer. 
 
20 THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 And from the fiery trial forth they came 
 Unblackened and unhurt ; no hair was singed — 
 No garment injured in that sea of flame ; 
 The fires had lost their energies, and tinged 
 Scarce with a ruddier glow those features fringed 
 With manhood's earliest down ; for God was there 
 Supporting those who honored him, nor cringed 
 Before a tyrant who would gold compare 
 With Him who rolls the orbs through boundless fields of air. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 Awed into admiration of His power, 
 The King ascribes to God the honor due, 
 And loads with gifts the men who would not cower 
 Before those threats whose ruthless ire they knew, 
 Proving by faith that Judah's God was true ; — 
 Stations of trust he delegates to those 
 Whom late he doomed to ruin, and the Jew 
 Perceived his burdens lightened, and his woes 
 Vanish before the smiles the monarch now bestows. 
 
THE CAFUVITY IN BABYLON. 21 
 
 XL. 
 
 Heavy the griefs that Judah's heart had pressed : 
 For black had been her sins, and long the scroll 
 Of her abominations ; she had dressed 
 Her priests in Baal's vestments, and the stole 
 Of those who from unhallowed censers roll 
 The incense unto Dagon, and had built 
 To unknown gods and devils, and the whole 
 Bright host of Heaven rich altars, and in guilt, 
 E'en in God's house, the blood of sacrifice had spilt. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 She had profaned His Temple, and had given 
 The worship due to Ilim to tree and stone, 
 And thus called down the bitter wrath of Heaven 
 Long waked, but long delayed : — her crimes had grown 
 Beyond the reach of pardon, and the throne 
 And sceptre passed away to other hands ; 
 Then in her long captivity her moan 
 Ascended to the Mercy Scat, her bands 
 Are one by one relaxed, her wakening heart expands. 
 
22 THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 XL1I. 
 
 Again the prophets of the Highest bear 
 Kind messages of mercy, holding out 
 Hope, pardon, peace, to penitence and prayer, 
 But bitterer woes to those who blindly scout 
 The offers of His love ; doubt after doubt 
 Melts like a cloud away; for grief had taught 
 Humility of heart, and whilst about 
 Their bosoms played the ever cheering thought 
 Of freedom and of home, their cares they half forgot. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Among the messengers of God, who came 
 In mercy to his people, Daniel rose, 
 For wisdom honored much, — for holy flame 
 Of inspiration more ; — he came with those 
 Sad exiles to the City of their foes 
 A child, — supported o'er the toilsome road 
 In that safe seat a mother's love bestows, — 
 Her tireless arm ; and well the precious load 
 Repaid her tender care and blessed her lone abode. 
 
TIIE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 23 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 And former monarchs to their palace led 
 And loved the Hebrew boy, and soon he knew 
 All lore by Eastern sages writ or read, 
 And angels from the founts of wisdom flew, 
 And bathed his brow with inspiration's dew, 
 And touched his lips with fire ; and when there came 
 Heaven-messaged visions on the monarch's view, 
 That youth put all Chaldea's seers to shame, 
 And thus to honors rose, to favor and to fame. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 The courts of Belus' temple flash with light 
 Gleaming from thousand lamps ; around are spread 
 Banquets of royal luxury, which invite 
 The sated sense anew. His mighty head 
 High o'er the feast, 13 with costly incense fed, 
 The grim-eyed idol rears ; and wanton song, 
 And drunken revel, by Belshazzar led, 
 Rise round it as fit worship, and prolong 
 E'en to the midnight hour the joys of that lewd throng. 
 
24 THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 Dizzy with love and wine, and deeming all 
 Those pleasures naught, till stern excitement throw 
 Her frenzied joys around him, at his call 
 The slaves of proud Belshazzar, bending low, 
 Bear in the golden cups, whose burnished glow 
 Reflected once the altar of the Lord, 
 In Judah's ruined Temple ; they o'erflow 
 Now with unhallowed wine, where rites abhorred 
 And sensual pleasures reign around the madman's board. 
 
 XLVII 
 
 And Nisroc, Ashtaroth and Bel behold 
 Their sin-polluted altars freely flow 
 With deep libations from those cups of gold 
 Used in Jehovah's worship long ago ; 
 The very flames that o'er their grimness throw 
 A flickering radiance, rise from golden stem 
 And polished branch, which caught its earliest glow 
 From thy shrined Sheckinah, Jerusalem, 
 Flashing reflected light on purple, ore and gem. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 25 
 
 XL VIII. 
 
 What dims the waning lamps ? — Hath morning burst 
 Too soon upon the revel ? — No ! a light 
 As brilliant, but less gladsome, catches first 
 The trembling monarch's eye, and blasts his sight. 
 His cheek hath lost its flush, and wild affright 
 Seizes on him and all his thoughtless crew ; 
 Along the wall a visioned hand doth write 
 Strange characters of fire, whose threatening hue 
 Throws with a fearful glare each object on the view. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Summoned in haste with scrolls of mystic lore, 
 And potent rods and robes of sombre dye, 
 And girdles, with strange letters painted o'er, 
 Swept by their snowy beards, the wise men hie, 
 And by the seat of splendor prostrate lie, 
 Waiting the King's behest ; his trembling hand 
 Points to the flashing letters, and with eye 
 Averted still, he bids the wondering band 
 Reveal the words of fate that all might understand. 
 
26 THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 L. 
 
 Dismayed they pause : their thoughtful eyes they strain 
 Long on the gleaming words, then seek the line 
 Of wisdom in their scrolls, but seek in vain ; 
 Each to the other makes some silent sign 
 To ask if there be hope the words divine 
 To read and to unravel, but reply 
 Receiveth none, and still the letters shine, 
 Glaring with awful brightness from on high, 
 Full on the baffled seers and the pale company. 
 
 LI. 
 
 " What ! is there none whose magic skill can read 
 Those letters of astonishment and fear," 
 The King exclaimed, " and to their purport lead 
 My troubled thoughts ? Is there no prophet here ? 
 I will give glory to the godlike seer 
 Who leads my mind this hidden thing to know. 
 Wealth shall be his, and fame — he shall appear 
 Enrobed in regal scarlet, while below 
 The throne but three degrees his seat I will bestow." 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 27 
 
 LII. 
 
 Then, called in haste, Daniel before him stood, 
 Severe, yet modest, and unawed, as one 
 Long conversant with courts ; the wall he viewed 
 A moment where the wondrous writing shone, 
 Then turned him to the King : 14 " to me be none 
 Such gifts, O Prince ! but hear from lip unpaid 
 The doom thou hast awaked and cannot shun, 
 The judgments now to burst upon thy head, 
 Traced by the hand of God, and soon to be displayed. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 " Thy sire by Sorrow's teaching learned to own 
 That God alone rules Earth : and that His will 
 Bestows on each the sceptre and the throne, 
 Till they their several destinies fulfil : — 
 And this thou knew'st ; and yet, rebellious still, 
 Hath scorned Jehovah, daring to pollute 
 These holy vessels, and from them to spill 
 Libations at an imaged monster's foot, 
 Honoring above thy God the daemon or the brute. 
 
28 
 
 THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 " Hear then the message He to thee conveys 
 By this mysterious writing, clear and bright : 
 Mene — thy kingdom hath fulfilled its days, 
 Thy reign shall end on this eventful night : — 
 Tekel — the balance hath declared thee light, 
 For thou by God's just judgments hast been weighed, 
 Perez, division cometh, and the might 
 Of Media and of Persia shall invade 
 This thy ancestral seat, and seize thy sceptre-blade." 
 
 LV. 
 
 The prophet's duty is fulfilled — the hand 
 Fades, like a fleeting shadow, from the view, 
 No longer in their withering brightness stand 
 Along the wall the mystic words which threw 
 So late around their doom-denouncing hue ; — 
 Through heavy arch and brazen gateway passed 
 The holy man, though oft as he withdrew, 
 Pausing, a sad and pitying glance he cast 
 O'er the pale revellers there — that banquet was their last. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BAEYLON. 29 
 
 LVI. 
 
 But with the hand and with the words of fate 
 Passed to the winds the terrors which had thrown 
 Their cloud upon the festival ; — elate 
 Belshazzar bids his guests in gayest tone 
 Drown graver thoughts, and leave the dim, unknown 
 Future to seers and dreamers : — high in pride 
 He lifts a bowl, whose golden radiance shone 
 Bright through the purple stream which laves its side, 
 As on the ground he pours the full libation tide : — 
 
 LVII. 
 
 Then to his lip : — but why in startled haste 
 Doth his unsteady hand relax its hold, 
 Bathing the marble pavement with rich waste, 
 As rings upon its stones the empty gold ? 
 Why, springing to his feet, doth he unfold 
 The royal purple from his breast, and throw 
 His diadem to Earth ? A shout hath rolled 
 From broad Euphrates' banks, and cries of woe 
 Rise on the midnight air and fill the courts below. 
 3* 
 
30 THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 The Median is upon tlicc ! He hath turned 
 Aside Euphrates' waters 15 from their bed, 
 And through its arch and empty channel learned 
 The pathway to thy palace, and hath sped 
 Up through the open gates, which should have spread 
 Their barriers rivcrward, his course to stay ; 
 Hopeless defence ! the infuriate foemen tread 
 O'er useless arms, and on the marble way 
 The wine enfeebled guards and silken menials slay. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 On, on like torrents from the mountains hurled, 
 Rush the invaders to their glorious prey ; 
 The joys of sense have all their lures unfurled, 
 And beckon onward through the bloody way : 
 Riches more vast than in her wildest play 
 Fancy could paint or Avarice could require, 
 Doth Babel, in her regal affluence, lay 
 Before the astonished s use, and that soft fire 
 By lewd Astarte lit, and fanned by wild Desire. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 LX. 
 
 And slight repulse from faint-souled troops they meet, 
 And soft, luxurious slaves ; wide, wide they swarm 
 Through many a sculptured arch and palaced street, 
 And Belus echoes to the loud alarm ; 
 Around his feet the jewelled floor is warm 
 With blood of thousand worshippers, who lift 
 Their hands to him for safety, — but his arm 
 And glance alike are impotent, and swift 
 The Median's sabre sweeps ; — the tomb hath many a gift. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 The courts which echoed late with shout and song 
 And revelry and mirth, — resound with wail 
 And shriek and lamentation, loud and long; 
 The voice of Power can now no more avail, 
 Nor Beauty's mute appeal, as trembling, pale, 
 She spreads her hands and lifts her brow of light, 
 And those wild, lustrous eyes, whose eloquent tale 
 Then first no pity moved ; — the daemon might 
 Of Fury baflled long, now gains its curbless height. 
 
32 THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 But of that coward herd which knelt before 
 The Persian's arm, one heart had thrown aside 
 His woman's softness, and stood forth no more 
 A pale-eyed Sybarite ; but kingly pride, 
 And stern resolve to meet the o'erwhelming tide, 
 And noble daring, in his form and eye, 
 At length had found their home, and Mashing wide 
 His death-bestowing scymctar on high, 
 Swept with the whirlwind's power, and bade the bravest fly. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 Behind a wall of slaughtered foes he stood, 
 Like lion turned to bay ; around him fell 
 Arrow and javelin, thirsting for his blood, 
 In frequent shower, ringing continuous knell 
 Upon his full orbed shield ; and oft the swell 
 Of victory's shouting, premature, arose, 
 As near him flew some lance directed well, 
 Or grazing arrow point, for still his foes 
 Feared his excited ire, nor dared around him close. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON, 33 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Sudden a shout was hoard — a warrior sprang 
 Beyond the bleeding mound, and, hand to hand, 
 Long time their clashing blades and bucklers rang, 
 While breathless stillness falls on either band ; 
 Invaders and invaded, on the grand 
 Yet awful scene, intensely looking on, 
 And leaning on their useless weapons, stand; 
 One falls — Belshazzar's fated life is gone — 
 Darius — thine alone is wide-walled Babylon. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 Babel hath fallen, but Judah is not free — 
 She hath but changed her master — yet her yoke 
 Doth daily press less heavily, and she 
 Dares to believe that Freedom's keen-edged stroke, 
 Which once in Egypt slavery's fetters broke, 
 Full soon may fall. Her sons to honors rise — 
 Jewels and gold adorn the purple cloak 
 Which vests her Daniel with authorities, 
 And powers, assigned to none but those whom monarchs prize. 
 
34 THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 O'er six score subject provinces preside 
 As many favored nobles, over whom 
 Is placed a high triumvirate, and wide 
 Its sway, and irreversible its doom ; 
 It holds the reins of empire, and the room 
 Wherein it sits, displays a thronging crew 
 Of summoned princes, doffing helm and plume 
 Before its power, — but chief is honor due 
 To him, first noble there, — a captive and a Jew ! 
 
 LXVIL 
 
 But in that chair of state doth Daniel meet 
 The meed that haunteth all of humble state, 
 By merit lifted to the dizzy seat 
 Of influence and honor : — Envy — Hate — 
 Assumed Contempt — yet inward Dread — await 
 Around his path ; his rivals, day by day, 
 Station their spies around his palace gate, 
 And seek to snare him, but his perfect way 
 Beams, like the virgin ore, more bright from the assay. 
 
THE CAr-TIVITY IN BABYLON. 35 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 And therefore he must fall : his virtue shines 
 Too bright, too dazzling, for their clouded eyes, 
 And his stern honor thwarts their base designs ; 
 He worships not their gods. The fact supplies 
 A ready path to vengeance. Then arise 
 Fawning and cunning voices round the throne : 
 " O King ! the good, the noble and the wise, 
 Have framed an edict, that to thee alone 
 For thirty days shall prayer or suppliant vow be known. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 " And if to any other, save to thee, 
 The voice of supplication shall ascend, 
 Then with the lions let his portion be, 
 Who dares the laws of Media to offend ; 
 That this be 'stablishcd, let thy hand append 
 Thy seal and signature, that every one 
 Where'er thy mighty empire shall extend, 
 May know the royal will." The deed is done, — 
 And Media's laws change not, — Daniel, thy race is run ! 
 
36 THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 The edict has gone fortli : — " behold how smiles 
 The stern triumvir as he hears his doom ! 
 Let him sneer on — he shall not scape our wiles, 
 But sink accursed within a living tomb : — 
 The sun's descending glory lights the room 
 Where stands our victim, but its parting ray 
 Tomorrow shall that gorgeous hall illume, 
 And find no Daniel there !" — He kneels to pray, 
 Turning with hand and eye far to the West 10 away : 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 Sunrise is gilding Babylon : — again 
 His foes assemble in the street below, 
 Watching with eager eye and ear, to gain 
 More certain proof their victim to o'erthrow ; 
 Morn's balmy breathings through the casement flow, 
 And there again the holy prophet kneels 
 In calm yet deep devotion, and the glow 
 Of solemn rapture lights his cheek, and seals 
 His brow with impress bright, which Truth alone reveals. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 37 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 And noon again beholds him with his hands 
 Expanded wide towards the bright Western skies, 
 Where once in worship from the distant lands, 
 The tribes went up to offer sacrifice ; 
 And as to Heaven his prayers, like incense, rise 
 From the heart's altar, warmed with sacred fire, 
 His daemon foes behold, with raptured eyes, 
 The proof which seals his doom and gluts their ire, 
 And to the palace-gates with hurried step retire. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 And Daniel's crime before the King is laid, 
 And judgment asked by laws which cannot fail, 
 And King Darius, by his haste betrayed, 
 Mourns with hot tears, which cannot now avail, 
 And sentence must go forth. Perplexed and pale, 
 He bids his slaves the gloomy cavern ope, 
 And whilst he strives his bitter grief to veil, 
 The fearless victim strains the grating rope, 
 And to his prison sinks, dark, yet illumed with hope. 
 4 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Morning had scarcely streaked the Eastern sky 
 With its first blush, ere kneels the King before 
 The lions' cavern with an anxious cry : 
 " Servant of God ! can He thou dost adore 
 Save thee indeed, and still the savage roar 
 Of these infuriate monsters ?" Then arose 
 The prophet's calm reply — " He can restore 
 His servants, and deliverance work for those 
 Who on His mercy trust, whose innocence He knows.' 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 In haste the joyous Monarch bids his slaves 
 Remove the royal seal, and spread the gate 
 Wide, which gave entrance to the gloomy caves, 
 And brng the prophet forth, — that baffled Hate 
 May meet the fearful doom it had so late 
 Planned for the innocent ; and forth they bore 
 The man of God unharmed : — the doors of fate 
 Close on his doomed accusers, and their gore 
 Flows ere their bodies touch the dark, sepulchral floor. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 39 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 But now from honors, courts and cares, retire 
 The holy man, to studies and to prayer ; 
 Age had begun to quench his early fires, 
 For seventy years had vanished, since, a fair, 
 A goodly child, his anxious mother bare 
 His wearied limbs through Babel's thronging street ; 
 And in these latter days 'twas his to share 
 High converse, in his calm and fair retreat, 
 With angels spreading wide the Future's mystic sheet. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Yea, many a glorious sight of after things 
 Fell on his raptured eye — he saw displayed 
 The Church's future glory, and the wings 
 Of angels and archangels o'er his head 
 Flashed visible music, bearing news which bade 
 His aged heart expand ; from them he knew 
 That seventy annual weeks 17 should rise and fade, 
 And then should wake on earth's adoring view 
 Messiah — Saviour — God of Gentile and of Jew ; 
 
40 
 
 THE CAPTIVITY IN EABYLON. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 And that the long captivity, which he 
 And exiled Judah bore in that far land, 
 Foreshadowed those dark years, ere man should see 
 That bright and great deliverance from the hand 
 Of Satan and of Sin ; the high command 
 Came from the throne of Glory, and he saw 
 Those typic years were numbered, and the band 
 Of Jews once more their ancient lot should draw, 
 And in their cherished home again restore the Law. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 Darius sleeps where Media's monarchs sleep, 
 In monumental pomp, and on his throne 
 The Persian Cyrus sits, his state to keep, 
 And rule the subject nations, now his own ; 
 Isaiah's heaven-taught pages had foreshown 
 That his should be the glory to release 
 Lone Judah from her chains, 18 and bid her groan 
 Melt into smiles — her long affliction cease, 
 And all her clouds disperse before the sun of Peace. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BAEYLON. 41 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 And deeply in his heart had sunk the wc-rd 
 Of prophecy, and in his ardent mind 
 Deep thoughts, like voices of the trumpet, stirred 
 To nob!e deeds his soul, and he resigned 
 His will to that high destiny and shrined 
 Its mandates in his heart ; and, ere a year 
 Of regal sway had left its cares behind, 
 The kingly proclamation, far and near, 
 Had bade the farthest bounds of that wide Empire hear. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 " Thus saith the King : — God hath on me bestowed 
 Power over all Earth's Kingdoms, and hath bade 
 My hand establish His beloved abode, 
 Where once it stood in goodly show displayed ; 
 Let all whose vows to Israel's God are paid — .' 
 The only God — to Judah's land return, 
 Where'er among the subject nations spread, 
 And build again the holy house, and burn 
 Incense and victim there, and there His judgments learn. 
 4* 
 
12 THE CAPTIVITY I \ BABYLON. 
 
 LXXX [. 
 
 Thou was there joy and gladness cure again 
 In thai long exiled nation: — Judah rose 
 Brighl from the dust, where si - so long had lain. 
 In .-ill her virgin beauty, lor the woes 
 Which pressed her down now leA hoc to repo 
 Then from her long and troubled sleep she waked 
 To al! the light which rising Freedom throws 
 In genial streams to Earth, wherein she flaked 
 Those hopes so long deferred w ith \> hioh Iter heart had ached. 
 
 JAWIII. 
 
 Gladness and hope on every feature glowed, 
 
 As band bj ham!, ami tribe bj tribe, thej pre 
 
 To Babel's walls, bj man) a distant r id, 
 
 From town ami province long 'heir home of rest ; 
 
 Ami, as obedient to the King's behest 
 
 And their hearts' homeward yearnings, ranged thej 
 
 On that wide plain, their laces to the West 
 
 They turned, ami streaming (ears their cheeks bedewed, 
 Soft as the April shower, with nought of grief imbued. 
 
43 
 
 IAWIV. 
 
 Ami Forth il)"> went, a glad and goodly train ; — 
 I Idw far unlike the melancholy crew 
 Which seventj years before, in toil and pain, 
 Along proud Babel's streets their wailing threw; 
 Thai race had well-nigh passed, and these, a new 
 Ami proud assemblage, turned their willing feet 
 To Judah's vine-clad hills, and deemed they drew 
 More vigorous breath, as balmy, soft and sweet, 
 The Western breeze from home their raptured sen es greel 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 Wi were there some among thai joyous band, 
 Who thro' long years their treasured thoughts could throw 
 Back to the y<;-uc.< of childhood, mid could stand, 
 In memory, on the mount, whereon the glow 
 < )f the sun rested gorgeously, as low 
 He wheeled his evening course, and bathed in lighl 
 The Temple's pinnacles, and bade them show 
 Their golden outline, glittering, rich and bright, 
 Par o'er the lower lands till i •■■ ning mixed with night* 
 
44 THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 And when from gilded spires the light had passed, 
 Leaving the solemn Temple all in shade, 
 It slept upon the waving column vast, 
 Which in the calm, still twilight, reared its head — 
 Smoke of the evening sacrifice — and played 
 Brightly around its top, like that of yore, 
 Whose moving course their fathers had obeyed, 
 When, toiling through the wilderness, they bore 
 From Egypt's hated land their tyrant's cherished store. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 And oft upon that homeward march, they told 
 Strange tales of all their childish eyes had viewed 
 Within that glorious house — jewels and gold, 
 And precious things, in brilliant order strewed — 
 And gilded beams of odorous cedar wood 
 Magnificently carved, and relics kept 
 Within the ark, which could not be renewed, 20 
 Whose sad destruction Judah's sons had wept 
 Oft in their exile home, e'en whilst their children slept. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 45 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 And when they told how all that glorious pile 
 In ruins lay, o'erthrown and desolate — 
 Mark for Samaria's jibe and Gentile's smile — 
 The home where beasts or fiercer robbers wait — 
 Their aged eyes o'erflowed ; and then they sate 
 On some rude stone, and gave the rein to grief, 
 Till rose the thought that they to reinstate 
 That holy house had come, and soft relief 
 Fell on their troubled hearts, and made their mourning brief. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 And with renewed alacrity they sped 
 Across the stony plains which skirt the bound 
 Of Araby, and thence the deserts spread 
 Far by the walls of Tadmor ; till they found 
 Their feet upon the pleasant vallies round 
 Far-famed Damascus, and the waters blue 
 Of Abana and Pharpar ; then the mound 
 Of Tabor glads their sight, and soon they knew 
 The ruined heaps of home which rose upon their view. 
 
46 THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 xc. 
 
 Nearer they came, till, by the gentle brook 
 Of Kedron pausing, one, 21 whose snowy hair 
 Waved brightly in the sun, his station took 
 Before the holy Mount, and kneeling there, 
 With outstretched hands, and reverend forehead bare, 
 He communed with his God, as erst he prayed 
 In Babylon his fervent, fearless prayer, 
 Though envious foes in ambush near were laid, 
 And though the lions' den its yawning portals spread. 
 
 XCI. 
 
 Thus ran his supplication : — " O, our God, 
 Who with thy mighty hand didst hither lead 
 Thy people from iEgyptia's dark abode, 
 From woes and pains and cruel bondage freed, — 
 Hear us, O Lord, — bow down thine ear, and heed 
 Thy people's supplications ; — for we know 
 That we have sinned, and urged, by many a deed 
 Of deadly hue, thy holy wrath to flow 
 On our deserving; heads, with waves of bitter woe. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 47 
 
 XCII. 
 
 " But let no more thy mighty anger burn, 
 O God of mercy! From thy holy seat — 
 Thy chosen heritage — in pity turn 
 The fierceness of thy wrath. Behold we meet 
 Bitter reproach and enmity's fierce heat 
 From the surrounding nations, and the gust 
 Of fiery persecution ; but repeat 
 Thy favor as of yore, and from the dust 
 Restore thy holy hill, O Merciful and Just ! 
 
 XCIII. 
 
 " 0, let thy servant's voice before thy throne 
 Meet blest acceptance ! For thy mercy's sake 
 Look with compassion on this City lone, 
 Which once thou deignd'st thy earthly home to make, 
 And from thy Temple and thy altars take 
 The deep reproach by Heathen tyrants brought ; 
 Behold our desolations, Lord, and break 
 The heavy chains of sorrow, which have wrought 
 Anguish in every heart, and crushed each fondest thought." 
 
48 THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 XCIV. 
 
 The prophet ceased ; yet still he bent him there, 
 Perchance in silent worship ; but he kneels 
 So long, so mute, so motionless in prayer, 
 That each a silent apprehension feels, 
 And oft a glance of strange inquiry steals, 
 Yet fears to interrupt him, until one, 
 At length, with hesitating step, reveals 
 The half-suspected truth ; — his course is run — 
 Fit death for life of prayer — in worship sets his sun ! 
 
 xcv. 
 
 And there, amid the prophets' sepulchres, 
 Daniel reposes — and around him rise 
 The walls, rebuilt by sad artificers, 
 And hindered long by cruel enemies ; 
 And well the tears became those aged eyes, 23 
 As, with the memories of the past, they view 
 The far diminished glory which supplies 
 Grace to that second Temple ; — yet they knew 
 At least it was their own, — the Temple of the Jew. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 49 
 
 XCVI. 
 
 And after years beheld a glory 24 fall 
 On that late building, which surpassed the gold 
 And gorgeous hangings which adorned the wall, 
 The courts, the halls, the chambers of the old ; 
 When the long lapse of centuries had rolled 
 Its destined course, and to the world revealed 
 The holy one, whom prophets had foretold, 
 The Saviour of the nations, who unsealed 
 Shadows and hidden types, whose letter he repealed. 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 That second house no Shekinah could boast, 
 Lighting the Mercy Seat, and showing there 
 The presence of Jehovah to the host 
 Who filled the courts with sacrifice and prayer ; 
 But through its halls and sculptured gateways fair, 
 Passed, veiled in flesh, revealed to human eye, 
 The mighty God Himself, who deigned to bear 
 The sorrows of 1 1 is people, to apply 
 Balm to their wounds, and died that they might never die. 
 5 
 
50 THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 
 
 XCVIII. 
 
 And from that meaner Temple, to all lands, 
 Hath sped the word of life, o'er fertile plain, 
 Deep-tangled forest, hot and burning sands, 
 And o'er the wild and solitary main ; 
 IWne on by men of faith, through toil and pain 
 And persecution, e'en to life's last hour, 
 And leaving, when their souls returned again 
 To Him who sent them forth, a richer dower 
 Than ever monarch owned in times of palmiest power. 
 
 XCTX. 
 
 And to these shores, unknown, when in their day 
 Christ's earliest heralds fought their holy fight, 
 That word of power hath made resistless way, 
 And changed the moral darkness into light ; 
 And in its train, refined, ennobled, bright, 
 By rays reflected from its sacred flame, 
 Its handmaid Science, like the moon at night, 
 Shedding her silvery glory, meekly came, 
 To aid that blessed power, which gave her strength and fame. 
 
THE CAPTIVITY IN BABYLON. 51 
 
 c. 
 
 And here, where late the untutored Savage trod, 
 She hath a seat to humanize the mind, 
 And bring its noblest energies to God ; 
 To draw its vigor forth, and then to bind 
 That vigor, strengthened, sanctified, rcfin'd, 
 Down to the noblest task that man can know, 
 The task to bless and reconcile mankind 
 To God's offended justice, and to show 
 What riches and what joys from Christ's atonement flow. 
 
 CI. 
 
 Go on and prosper ! From this classic seat 
 Let Truth, as from a centre, spread her rays, 
 Diverging and increasing, till they meet 
 And girdle earth in one wide, bright embrace ! 
 Onward their march, till error finds no place 
 Wherein to hide ; till every desert shore 
 Bloom with the rose of Sharon — until praise 
 Load the four winds with melody, and pour 
 One universal song, to peal for evermore ! 
 
52 THE CAPTIVITY IN EABYLON. 
 
 CII. 
 
 Go on and prosper ! Give to truth a voice 
 Gf trumpet tone, till through the Earth it sound 
 Its glorious echoes, hidding man rejoice, 
 Shaking Sin's high-walled cities to the ground, 
 And bidding bondage (where the mind is bound 
 By Sin and Error,) cease the Earth to tread ; 
 That man redeemed, of every race, be found 
 Like Judah, from the walls of Babel led, 
 Pressing to that blest home where dwells their glorious Head ! 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Note 1. Stanza II. Line 1. 
 
 Plain of S/iinar. 
 
 Tho plain of Shinar, lying E. of the Euphrates, and between it and the Tigris, 
 is noarly 300 miles in length, and about 100 in breadth. Babylon was situated 
 near its N. W. extremity. When the historian Herodotus visited Babylon, this 
 plain was extremely fertile, but it is now littlo better than a morass, covered with 
 sedge and weeds, and inhabited by loathsome reptiles, thus wonderfully verify- 
 ing the words of the prophet, Isaiah xiii. 20, 21. 
 
 Note 2. Stanza IV. Line 1. 
 
 Babylon the mighty. 
 
 How well this epithet applies, may bo learned from tho descriptions which his- 
 torians give of this wonderful City. It was built in an exact square, each side 
 measuring 15 miles. It was entered by 100 gates, 25 on each side, all of solid 
 brass. From each gate a street, 15'J feet wide, ran entirely across tho City, inter- 
 secting the other streets at right angles. The wall, comprising a circuit of GO 
 miles, was 350 feet in height, and 87 feet in thickness. Tho Euphrates, which 
 ran through the City, was crossed about the centre by a magnificent bridge : — at 
 its east end stood the old Palace and the Temple of Belus; at the west end was 
 situated the new Palace, which occupied nine entire squares of the City, and must 
 consequently have been about 8 miles in circumference ; a vault below the bed of 
 the river afforded a secret communication between the two Palaces. The Temple 
 contained the statue of Jupiter Belus, of solid gold, forty feet high, probably tho 
 same which Nebuchadnezzar erected on the plain of Dura. Its weight was one 
 thousand Babylonian talents, and its value consequently, must have been about 
 $20,000,000. There were in the Temple, besides this, two other statues, of 
 female deities, scarcely inferior in magnitude or value, which, together with the 
 golden vessels, tables and other furniture, made the whole estimate of* its riches 
 amount to above $100,000,000. How are the mighty fallen ! " Babylon, the glory 
 of Kingdoms, the beauty of the Chaldees' excellency, shall be (and truly is) as 
 when Goo overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah." 
 
 5* 
 
54 NOTES. 
 
 Note 3. Stanza IV. Line 8. 
 
 Waving garden. 
 
 Perhaps nothing in that wonderful City was more wonderful than the hanging 
 gardens. " To gratify his queen Amyte with a resemblance of her native moun- 
 tains of Media, or to have a commanding prospect of the whole City. Nebuchad- 
 nezzar built them in his new Palace. They contained a square of 400 feet on 
 each side, and consisted of terraces, one above another, carried up to the height 
 of the walls of the City. Upon the uppermost terrace was a reservoir, supplied 
 by an engine with water from the river." — Brown's Dictionary. 
 
 Note 4. Stanza VIII. Line 5. 
 
 The stairs. 
 
 The river, where it passed through the City, was bounded on each side by a 
 wall, of the same thickness with that which encompassed the City. In this wall, 
 at the termination of each street, were brazen gates, and from them a descent by 
 steps to the river. — Brown's Dictionary. 
 
 Note 5. Stanza XIV. Lines 7 and 8. 
 
 for he went 
 From Babylon so purposed. 
 
 Josephus. Antiq. Book x. ch. viii., says—" they were indeed only generals of 
 the King of Babylon, to whom Nebuchadnezzar committed the care of the siege of 
 Jerusalem, for he abode himself in the City of Riblah." There is little doubt, 
 however, that he was present during a part of the time, and was certainly ab- 
 sent from Babylon when the captives arrived there. 
 
 Note 6. Stanza XVIII. Line 9. 
 
 Many a holy thing to touch and sight forbid. 
 
 These were the two tables of the Law — the golden pot of manna — Aaron's rod 
 that budded— and a copy of the Pentateuch. The ark was so sacred, that it was 
 death for any but the priests to look at it, and was therefore carried under a cover. 
 
 Note 7. Stanza XXI. Line 5. 
 
 Ifis orbless brow. 
 
 The eyes of Zedekiah, King of Judah, had been put out at Riblah, by command 
 of Nebuchadnezzar, his children having been first murdered in his presence, as a 
 punishment for his treachery and rebellion. 
 
NOTES. 55 
 
 Note 8. Stanza XXI. Line 7. 
 The double prophecy. 
 
 " Thou shall not escape out of his hand, but shall surely be taken and delivered 
 into his hand ; and thine eyes shall behold the eyes of the King of Babylon, and he 
 shall speak with thee mouth to mouth, and thou shalt go to Babylon." — Jeremiah 
 xxxiv. 3. 
 
 " I will bring him to Babylon, to the land of the Chaldeans ; yet he shall not 
 see it, though he shall die there." — Ezekiel xii. 13. 
 
 Note 9. Stanza XXXI. Line 1. 
 
 The holy fire. 
 
 The sacred fire, which descended at the dedication of the Temple by Solomon, 
 was preserved till about the beginning of the Captivity in Babylon. 
 
 Note 10. Stanza XXXI. Line 5. 
 
 The Urim and the Thummim. 
 
 These words signify lights and perfections, and are mentioned as being in the 
 High Priest's breastplate ; but what they were cannot with any certainty be de- 
 termined ; all that is known about them is, that they were consulted on occasions 
 of great moment, and by some means, impossible to be discovered, gave an oracu- 
 lar reply. 
 
 Note 11. Stanza XXXIII. Line 9. 
 
 That very plain. 
 
 The plain of Dura stretched away W. of the Euphrates, and as the temple of 
 Belus lay on the E. side of the river, strictly speaking, in the plain of Shinar, the 
 expression " that very plain" is not literally correct; yet as the two plains are often 
 mentioned indiscriminately, when speaking of the region around Babylon, there 
 cannot be any great impropriety in laying the scene of the confusion of tongues on 
 the western side of the river. 
 
 Note 12. Stanza XXXV. Line 2. 
 
 A god of gold. 
 
 Probably the same as that afterwards known as the Jupiter Belus, in the Temple 
 of Babylon. 
 
56 NOTES. 
 
 Note 13. Stanza XLV. Line 5. 
 
 Thefeast. 
 
 It is almost a hopeless task to attempt a description of Belshazzar's feast, after 
 it has been done so fully, so powerfully, and so poetically, in Martin's wonderful 
 picture. I have, therefore, done little else than to endeavor to bring the leading 
 objects of that great picture again to the reader's memory. 
 
 Note 14. Stanzas LII. LIII. LIV. 
 
 See Daniel v. 17—28. 
 
 Note 15 Stanza LVI1I. Line 2. 
 
 He hath turned 
 Jlside Euphrates' waters. 
 
 An enormous lake of about fifty miles in circumference, and from thirty to 
 seventy-five feet deep, had formerly been dug on the west of the City, into which, 
 during the annual freshet, caused by the melting of the Armenian snows, the su- 
 perabundant waters of the river were diverted. Cyrus, despairing of tiking the 
 City by assault, turned off the stream of the Euphrates into this lake, and entered 
 with his whole army through the low arches which carried the wall across the bed 
 of the river. This, however, would have availed him nothing, but that the feast 
 in honor of Belus happening the same night, had produced so great a neglect, that 
 the gates leading down to the river, which were generally closed at night, had 
 been left open, and the guards, asleep or intoxicated, were unable to offer any 
 effectual resistance to the victorious army. 
 
 Note 16. Stanza LXX. Line 9. 
 
 To the West. 
 
 It was, and still is, customary with the Jews, when offering up their supplica- 
 tions in a foreign land, to turn towards the Temple at Jerusalem: this was in ac- 
 cordance with the sentiment expressed in the prayer of Solomon, at the dedica- 
 tion.— 1 Kings viii. 23—53 
 
 Note 17. Stanza LXXVII. Line 7. 
 
 Seventy annual weeks. 
 
 Daniel ix. 24 — 27. Prideaux had traced out, with great industry and learning, 
 the exact date of the decree issued by Cyrus for the restoration of Jerusalem, and 
 proves that exactly 490 years elapsed from that event to the birth of the Saviour. 
 
NOTES. 57 
 
 Note 18. Stanza LXXIX. Lines 5, 6, 7. 
 
 Isaiah's heaven-taught pages had foreshown 
 That his should be the glory to release 
 Lone Judahfrom her chains. 
 
 Isaiah xliv. 28. 
 
 Note 19. Stanza LXXXI. 
 
 Ezra. Chap. i. 2, 3, 4. 
 
 Note 20. Stanza LXXXVII. Line 7. 
 
 Which could not be renewed. 
 
 Not only the holy things kept within the Ark, but the Ark itself, and all its fur- 
 niture, had been lost during the Captivity. The second Temple was also deficient 
 in other things which the first possessed, viz. the Shekinah, or cloud of the Divine 
 Prtjjence — the holy fire — the Urim and Thummim — and the spirit of Prophecy. 
 
 Note 21. Stanza XC. Line 2. 
 
 One. 
 
 It is certain that Daniel lived till very near the end of the Captivity, and there is 
 nothing to render his return to Jerusalem improbable. There can, therefore, be no 
 impropriety in introducing him here. 
 
 Note 22. Stanzas XCI. XCII. and XCIII. 
 
 Daniel ix. 4—19. 
 
 Note 23. Stanza XCV. Line 5. 
 
 And well the tears became those aged eyes. 
 
 Ezra iii. 12. 
 
 Note 24. Stanza XCVL Line 1. 
 
 A glory. 
 
 Haggai ii. 9. 
 
POEMS. 
 
POEMS. 
 
 AMERICAN ANTIQUITIES. 
 
 What though they tell thee thou hast nought, 
 
 Young land of beauty, to bear back, 
 Midst crumbling tower and fane, our thought 
 
 To Time's long hallowed track, — 
 That thine antiquity began 
 
 When other lands were growing old, 
 Thy name unwon, till Spain's bold son 
 
 Came to thy shores for gold ; — 
 6 
 
62 POEMS. 
 
 Heed not the imputation thrown 
 
 So rashly on thy rising fame : 
 Each giant cone of thine was known 
 
 When Rome was but a name ; 
 Each glorious stream,. which bears its foam 
 
 To the vast Ocean's deep repose, 
 Was known and named before a dome 
 
 On Tyber's banks arose. 
 
 His bow hath many a warrior bent 
 
 In deadly conflict or the chase, 
 Whose long descent was closely blent 
 
 With Judah's royal race ; 
 And many a sage had made his grave 
 
 By ceaseless Niagara's roar, 
 E'er Caesar's legions crossed the wave 
 
 To Albion's chalky shore. 
 
 What are the castles' turrets gray, 
 
 Clothed with the moss of centuries ten, 
 
 Or what the scenes of fierce affray 
 Between half-savage men? 
 
POEMS. 63 
 
 Point to thy hills and rivers vast, 
 Rife with the deeds of glory's day, 
 
 Unknown because no muse hath shrined 
 Their memories in her lay. 
 
 What are the pyramids which tower 
 
 High o'er old Egypt's sandy plain, 
 Those altars to Oblivion's power, 
 
 Which Time has touched in vain ? 
 Thou too, if aught of praise redounds 
 
 From home of death and mourning stone, 
 May'st boast thy mounds — thy burial grounds 
 
 Of heroes long unknown. 
 
 When Israel's tribes were captive led 
 
 To Gozan's deep and distant tide, 
 Far from the oppressor's hand they fled 
 
 O'er many a desert wide ; 
 And many a foamy stream they passed, 
 
 And many a forest wandered through, 
 And trod at last the barriers vast 
 
 By Behring's waters blue. 
 
64 POEMS. 
 
 But islands, since by fire subdued,* 
 
 In ceaseless chain before them lay, 
 And o'er the flood on rafts of wood 
 
 They took their untried way, 
 And trod these shores, before untrod 
 
 By mortal foot since time began ; 
 Alone — deserted by their God, — 
 
 Deserting tyrant man. 
 
 And though full many an ancient rite 
 
 Of sacrificial laws they bore, 
 Preserved through Error's gloomy night, 
 
 To this untrodden shore, 
 Their end and spirit were forgot, 
 
 Their lifeless forms they held alone, 
 For they had brought no record fraught 
 
 With Inspiration's tone. 
 
 And thus they lost that artf which bids 
 Defiance to the tooth of Time, 
 
 * The Fox Islands, some degrees South of Behring's Straits, all bear traces 
 of Volcanic action. 
 
 -+ The art of Writing. 
 
POEMS. 
 
 65 
 
 When mounds and crumbling pyramids 
 
 Forget the tale sublime ; 
 And the exciting deeds, which filled 
 
 The space of full two thousand years, 
 Lie unrevealed, in darkness sealed, 
 
 Where never ray appears. 
 
 Long else had been the scroll of fame 
 
 Thy storied Muse had handed down ; 
 Else should thy lengthened annals claim 
 
 Antiquity's renown. 
 Lament it not : in every age 
 
 Too long the tale of woes and crimes : 
 Would that the sage had torn the page 
 
 He traced in ancient times ! 
 
 Happy, unhistoried, art thou, 
 
 Happy, that thought may soar away 
 Where but Conjecture tells her how 
 
 Transpired the former day. 
 Imagination paints with hues 
 
 More fair than Truth — old artist stern— 
 Better the deeds of old to lose, 
 
 Than blush the tale to learn. 
 6* 
 
66 POEMS. 
 
 MEMORY. 
 
 " One clear idea wakened in the breast 
 By memory's magic lets in all the rest " 
 
 Moore. 
 
 How finely memory's chords are strung ! 
 
 The slightest touch will wake a strain 
 Which long ago our childhood sung, 
 But hath not wakened since again : 
 Some far-off music faintly caught, 
 Rouses the energies of thought, 
 And back upon the soul return 
 
 Scenes, forms and faces long forgot, 
 Kind words that bade the bosom burn, 
 And looks of Love which changeth not, 
 Connected, how we know not well, 
 With that faint music's magic swell. 
 
POEMS. 67 
 
 I sat a lazy brook beside, 
 Marking its slow and silent tide ; 
 It passed the tree that gave me shade, 
 Scarce rippled by the knotted limb 
 Which lay across its course, and made 
 A barrier to its waters dim, — 
 
 Then with a long and gentle sweep 
 Through level fields it held its way, 
 Till clown a chasm dark and deep 
 It vanished with a sudden leap, 
 Studding the rocks with silver spray. 
 
 All, all was strange, I sought in vain 
 Semblance to some familiar scene ; 
 The link was gone from memory's chain, 
 Severed the golden thread between 
 
 Present and Past, which should convey 
 The electric flash of thought away 
 To distant points of joy or tears, 
 
 Made faint and fainter day by day 
 By the still thickening veil of years. 
 
 I sat beside that lazy brook, 
 Tracing the devious track it took, 
 
68 POEMS. 
 
 And fancied in my waking dream 
 I looked on Life's symbolic stream ; 
 Gentle and weak, but pure, at first, 
 
 Leaving with smiles the fostering breast, 
 Where long and fondly it was nursed, 
 Till, far beyond that home of rest, 
 It mingled with the grosser tide, 
 By many a distant source supplied ; 
 In fuller strength and influence wide, 
 
 But lower, level than before, 
 Sweeping along in stately pride, 
 But decked with purity no more ; 
 
 Its surface wreathed with smiles and gold, 
 Its breast beneath foul, dark and cold. 
 
 As thus I mused, beneath mine eye 
 A mimic vessel floated by : 
 The hull, a chip ; the mast, a reed ; 
 A strip of bark supplied the sail; 
 The streaming flag, a water weed ; 
 The precious load, a rusty nail ; 
 
 That poor device of childhood's play, 
 To cheat the lagging hours away, 
 
POEMS. 69 
 
 Gave the lost link to Memory's chain, 
 
 And when I raised mine eyes again 
 The scene had changed ; before me spread 
 The fields in recognition smiled, 
 
 The tree above me seemed to shed 
 
 The very leaves upon my head 
 It showered around me when a child ; 
 The twisted limb which swept the tide, 
 
 Brought visions crowding on my brain 
 Of chip-boats caught by eddies wide, 
 Deprived of mast, sail, pennon, vane, 
 
 By bending twig or hanging bough ; 
 
 And so perchance the urchins now, 
 
 Who play around this grassy brink, 
 
 Behold their hopes and vessels sink. 
 
 So small the links that form the chain 
 
 Which binds the Present to the Past ; 
 So web-like are the chords we strain 
 In thought across the torrent vast 
 Of rolling years to scenes beyond, 
 A slender, but a mighty bond, 
 Like frail Al Sirat, which supplies 
 The Moslem's path to Paradise. 
 
70 POEMS. 
 
 THE PLAY-GROUND REVISITED. 
 
 Another tree, and yet the same, 
 
 Round which in boyhood's hour I played, 
 Witness of many an anxious game, 
 
 Contested in its giant shade ; 
 Beneath this branch the ring was made, 
 
 Here was the line for " knuckling down," 
 On yonder knarly root were laid 
 
 Superfluous jackets, blue and brown, 
 And caps, that on each curly crown 
 
 Were seldom seen, save when we went 
 Sworded and feathered through the town, 
 
 On deeds of desperate knighthood bent : 
 And when, with Pleasure's labor spent, 
 
 Brief rest we sought in Summer's heat, 
 Yon shady bench its refuge lent; 
 
 E'en now upon its mouldering seat, 
 
POEMS. 71 
 
 With feelings deep and strangely sweet, 
 
 Full many a well remembered name 
 In rudest letters carved I greet. — 
 
 We yearn — how early ! after Fame — 
 Alas ! of all who joined our game 
 
 When those young names were graved, how few 
 Since have I seen, or now may claim 
 
 Our boyish friendships to renew. 
 O'er some of that once merry crew 
 
 The grave has closed, o'er some the Sea, 
 Some to their homes have bade adieu 
 
 For years, perchance eternally ; 
 And some who stood around that tree 
 
 Happy with childhood's careless play, 
 From vice and sensual influence free, 
 
 Have thrown their innocence away, 
 In vain pursuits grown early gray ; 
 
 In look deformed, in soul and mind 
 Degraded by the sins that prey 
 
 Upon the vitals of mankind. 
 O ! would they cast a look behind 
 
 To this old tree, and think how fair, 
 From Guilt's dark influence disentwined, 
 
 Their hours of early boyhood were, 
 
72 POEMS. 
 
 Perchance they yet might breathe a prayer 
 
 To be from Folly free again, 
 To fly from Pleasure's dangerous snare, 
 
 And break the links of Passion's chain. 
 
 ! Joy is ever mixed with Pain 
 
 In this strange world. — I cannot think 
 Of those who joined our merry train 
 
 In former years, but I must shrink 
 From following Memory's golden link 
 
 When to the Lost my mind it leads : 
 
 1 came to this old well to drink 
 
 Refreshing draughts, — and lo ! the seeds 
 Of bitter memories grow to weeds 
 Upon its waters. — 
 
 Yet the spring 
 Is not all filled with slimy reeds ; — 
 
 Flowers of rich hues and odors cling 
 Around its marge, and they shall fling 
 
 Pleasure so sweet upon my sense, 
 That the fond thoughts and hopes they bring 
 
 Shall drive all painful memories thence. 
 
POEMS. 73 
 
 BY-GONE DAYS. 
 
 How do the mists of Memory dress 
 Our childhood's scenes in loveliness ! 
 How through the vistas of the past 
 
 Our thoughts will wander, and forget 
 The clouds above the present cast, 
 While Fancy paints the fair vignette 
 Which stands upon Life's title-page 
 With hues which glad the eye of age ; 
 Hues which in truth it never wore, 
 
 But which to childhood's joyous eye 
 It seemed to wear in days of yore, 
 And after life would fain believe, 
 Despite of cold philosophy, 
 
 That Fancy there could not deceive. 
 7 
 
74 POEMS. 
 
 How oft before my mental sight, 
 Dressed in such robes of fairy light, 
 Comes up the rude and rocky shore 
 My infant footsteps wandered o'er. 
 The crescent beach along whose marge 
 
 The waters of the ebbing tide 
 Their freight of weeds and foam discharge, 
 Where tiny billows curl and break, 
 Leaving a soft and snowy streak, 
 The limits of two Empires wide ; 
 The frowning cliffs on either side 
 With bases buried in the beach, 
 Like giant arms extended, reach 
 Far out where stormy billows ride 
 And buffet with the wilder waves 
 That roar around their echoing caves. 
 While the blue water sleeps between 
 Those rocky barriers all serene, 
 A little bay whose soft repose 
 Seldom and slight disturbance knows. 
 How oft across that placid bay 
 
 Hath danced my Lilliputian barque, 
 And as it swiftly sped away 
 
 Mine anxious eyes its course would mark, 
 
POEMS. 75 
 
 Now bright with joy to see it brave 
 Some ripple which I deemed a wave ; 
 Now dim with terror as its mast 
 Bent to some overpowering blast, 
 Which scarce disturbed the thistle down, 
 Or shook the poppy's silken crown. 
 
 No merchant marked with greater glee 
 
 His gallant, gold filled argosy 
 Press home, her voyage of peril done, 
 
 Than I, when o'er the mighty tide, 
 
 Stretching full fifty fathoms wide, 
 My-six inch ship her course had run, 
 
 And struck with leaden keel the sand 
 
 Which formed the " make believe " far-land. 
 
 Those days have passed, and many a year 
 
 Hath vanished since that beach I prest, 
 But still in memory's eye as clear, 
 As though but yesterday I drest, 
 Sweet sister ! aided well by thee, — 
 My ship in muslin sails, and made 
 My blocks of cork, my ropes of thread, 
 And sent her o'er the mimic sea. 
 
76 POEMS. 
 
 Each cavern there, each stock and stone 
 
 Brightly on memory's vision glow, 
 Like old acquaintance kindly known. 
 Ah ! easier task those rocks to know 
 Than face of friends seen long ago. 
 The cavern and the rock are there, 
 The very same they ever were, 
 But those who watched my infant play, 
 Oh, tell me where and what are they ? 
 Vanished or changed — and I should be 
 As changed to them as they to me. 
 
POEMS. 
 
 77 
 
 NIAGARA. 
 
 Describe Niagara !— Ah, who shall dare 
 Attempt the indescribable, and train 
 Thought's fragile wing to skim the heavy air, 
 Wet with the cataract's incessant rain ? 
 The glowing " muse of fire," invok'd in vain 
 By Shakspeare, who shall hope from Heaven to win ? 
 And " burning words" alone become the strain, 
 Which to the mind would bring the awful din 
 Where seas in thunder fall, and eddying oceans spin. 
 
 Long had the savage on thy glorious shroud 
 Fring'd with vast foam wreaths, gaz'd with stoic eye, 
 And deemed that on thy rising rainbow cloud 
 The wings of the Great Spirit hovered nigh, 
 And, as he marked the solemn woods reply 
 7* 
 
78 
 
 TOEMS. 
 
 In echoes to thy rolling thunder tone, 
 He heard His voice upon the breeze go by, 
 And his heart bowed — for to the heart alone 
 God, speaking through His works, makes what He utters 
 known. 
 
 But ages passed away — and to the West 
 Came Europe's sons to seek for fame or gold, 
 And one, perchance, more daring than the rest, 
 Lured by the chase, or by strange stories told 
 By Indian guide of oceans downward rolled, 
 Felt on his throbbing ear thy far-off roar, 
 Then sped the mighty wonder to behold, 
 Thy voice around him and thy cloud before, 
 Till breathless — trembling — rapt — he trod thy foaming shore. 
 
 Upward he gazed to where, with furious hiss, 
 Thy waters spurn the precipice, and leap 
 Into the vexed and indistinct abyss, 
 Where Rage and Tumult ceaseless battle keep, 
 Filling, with roar monotonous and deep, 
 The wearied echo ; — there he fixed his gaze, 
 Like one entranced who fears to break his sleep, 
 Lest the wild vision fade that sleep doth raise, 
 All thought lockM up and chain'd in stern and strange amaze. 
 
POEMS. 79 
 
 Till, slowly rallying from the first surprize, 
 Thought from its magic prison breaks at last, — 
 The gazer from the foam-whirl lifts his eyes 
 And scans thy whole arena wild and vast ; 
 From point to point his eager glances cast, 
 Take by degrees thy wide circumference in, 
 And as his speechless wonder slowly passed, 
 Delight succeeded, deep, intense and keen, 
 Heart, soul and sense absorbed in that unrivalled scene. 
 
 Then through his mind like lightning flashed the thought, 
 Once o'er the Patriarch's soul in Bethel thrown, 
 " Sure God is with me, and I knew it not," 
 I see his power in yon majestic zone 
 Of mighty waters, and its thunder tone 
 Brings to mine ear His voice — and deeply felt, 
 And almost seen His Presence reigns alone. — 
 Then meekly by the rock the wanderer knelt, 
 Feeling in awe and love his heart's full fountain melt. 
 
 And long with shaded eye and bended head 
 He prayed before that Temple's wond'rous veil, 
 Whilst from its foot, in ceaseless eddies spread, 
 The mist-cloud rose, like incense, on the gale ; 
 
80 POEMS. 
 
 And half he deemed that on its pinions frail 
 His prayers, upborne, would blessed acceptance know ; 
 He rose with gladdened eye and heart to hail 
 Mercy's fair type and seal, the rainbow's glow 
 Spanning with calm embrace the troubled scene below. 
 
 And when the westering day-beam warned him back, 
 Lingering he stood, as spell-bound by the strain, 
 And oft he started on his homeward track, 
 And oft returned one parting glance to gain ; 
 And twilight had usurped its fitful reign 
 Ere to thy foam his last farewell he bade, 
 Then like an arrow, o'er the woody plain 
 Homeward he hurried through the deepening shade, 
 Again in dreams to view thy wonders round him spread. 
 
 And oft alone, and oft with friends he came 
 To scan thy charms, and worship at thy shrine, 
 And feel again devotion's hallowed flame 
 Blaze in thy presence fanned with breath divine : 
 And oft from morning until day's decline 
 He sat and mused beside ihee, for his eye 
 Saw nowhere majesty and grace like thine ; 
 And in his soul thy mighty minstrelsy 
 Woke stern and glorious thoughts, and visions wild and high. 
 
POEMS. 81 
 
 In silence long forgot the wanderer sleeps ; — 
 But still as when thou met'st his startled gaze, 
 Thy glorious scene the heart in wonder steeps 
 Of him who seeks thee in these later days : — 
 Sublime in simple grandeur ! Art can raise 
 No rival to thy throne, nor words convey 
 Thine image to the mind, though noblest lays 
 Have vied in thy description. — Day by day 
 Thy roar shall speak of God till Nature fade away. 
 
82 
 
 rOEMS. 
 
 ATHENS. 
 
 City of Gods and heroes ! In the dust 
 
 The foot of Time — the tyrant and the slave, 
 Have trodden down thy glory, and the grave 
 Holds all thy greatness ; — the corroding rust 
 Of centuries has bid the record pass 
 From sculptured marble and memorial brass; 
 The hundred columns of thy Parthenon 
 
 Were all too few the massive roof to bear, 
 And undisturbed the birds and summer air 
 Find passage, where, disjointed one by one, 
 Pillar and portico the Earth have strewed, 
 Like ancient trees in forest solitude. 
 
toems. 83 
 
 The wingless Victory, in thine hour of pride 
 
 Enshrined and chained, that she may never leave 
 Her seat in the Acropolis, nor give 
 Her smiles to thine antagonist, has died : — 
 Unwinged and bound, like Love, her life must end, 
 She could not flee, and thou couldst not defend, 
 And o'er her grave, deserted by thy sons, 
 
 Oft hath the foeman's shout of triumph rolled, 
 And bondsmen's slaves have given for strangers' gold 
 The sculpture from her shrine, which barbarous Huns, 
 Less classic, but therein more truly kind, 
 Left in their desolating march behind. 
 
 Well could thy Pericles design, and well 
 Thy Phidias execute ; but how the rush 
 Of Time and War and Ignorance may crush 
 Genius and Taste, thy ruined towers may tell. 
 The torch of Attila, — the iron shower 
 Of Venice, — and the Moslem's grinding power 
 Have cursed thee in their turn ; and from thy brow 
 Have crumbled one by one the precious things 
 Which Art designed to give thy glory wings 
 Wherewith to fly o'er Earth ; — behold them now 
 Spurned by base feet, or borne across the sea 
 To lands unknown to fame when thou wert free. 
 
84 POEMS. 
 
 The works of man, erected for renown, 
 Are fallen or falling, — but the hills remain 
 Around thee, reared by God, and shall retain 
 Those names, which were the jewels of thy crown, 
 When time hath broken every chiselled stone, 
 And scarce their sites and stations shall be known. 
 The mount of Mars no mark of ruin shows — 
 Cithaeron is yet beautiful — the hill 
 Of Pynx arises in its glory still — 
 Still on Hymettus evening's radiance glows 
 And marks no change, though many a goodly wall, 
 Dug from its quarries, trembles to its fall. 
 
 Thou hast been long degraded, but thy night 
 At length beholds a dawn, and o'er the plains 
 Where late raged Anarchy, mild Order reigns, 
 And Law and Justice shed their equal light : — 
 And a New World, which had received no name 
 Till many a century since thy day of fame, 
 Sends her enlightened heralds to unbind 
 
 The veil of Ignorance which wraps thy heart, 
 Thou once proud fount of Knowledge and of Art, 
 And to relight within thy darkened mind 
 The lamp of holy truth, that thou again 
 May'st hold thy station in the ranks of men. 
 
POEMS. 85 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 Clouds of the mountain 
 
 And mist of the plain, 
 Spray of the fountain 
 
 And foam of the main, 
 Flee from your station 
 
 On pinions of air, 
 The face of creation 
 
 No shadow shall wear. 
 
 Bright from the Ocean, 
 
 O day-star, arise ! 
 Speed thy glad motion 
 
 Along the blue skies ! 
 Scatter thy glory 
 
 On valley and lea, 
 On mountain top hoary, 
 
 On streamlet and tree. 
 8 
 
POEMS. 
 
 Leap from your slumber, 
 
 Ye flowrets, in mirth, 
 Deck without number 
 
 The bosom of Earth ; 
 Give out your treasure 
 
 Of odors and hues ; 
 Stint not the measure 
 
 Of joy ye diffuse. 
 
 Nature rejoices ; 
 
 Ye birds of the grove, 
 Pour out your voices 
 
 Of music and love ; 
 Stretch forth your pinions, 
 
 Your plumage renew, 
 Air's broad dominions 
 
 Are open for you. 
 
 Swift flowing rivers 
 
 Are open again ; 
 Soft Spring delivers 
 
 From fetters the main ; 
 
POEMS. 87 
 
 Glad fins are lashing 
 The billows in play — 
 
 Bright scales are flashing 
 In streamlet and bay. 
 
 Forests are showing 
 
 Green mantles again — 
 Verdure is glowing 
 
 O'er valley and plain ; 
 Labor is guiding 
 
 The plough-share in toil, 
 Safely confiding 
 
 The seed to the soil. 
 
 Soft breezes breathing 
 
 From climates serene, 
 Where spice-flowers wreathing 
 
 Their tendrils are seen, 
 Float rich and balmy 
 
 O'er Nature's broad breast, 
 And, whispering calmly, 
 
 Hush sorrow to rest. 
 
88 POEMS. 
 
 Rejoice thee, O mortal, 
 
 In spring's gentle noon, 
 Death's gloomy portal 
 
 Shall open full soon — 
 And hallow life's morning 
 
 To life's holy King, 
 And Death's wintry warning 
 
 No terrors shall bring. 
 
POEMS. 89 
 
 TO A CLOUD. 
 
 Fleecy cloud, I envy thee, 
 
 Soft and white-robed wanderer there, 
 O'er a pure and silent sea, 
 
 Lonely, passionless and fair ; 
 Who on Earth would pine unblest, 
 
 Mix with rage and strive with care, 
 Could he fly and be at rest 
 
 In thy home of boundless air ? 
 
 On thy free and gentle course 
 
 What hast thou to fear or shun ? 
 
 Even though the tempest hoarse 
 
 Howl when darkness has begun, 
 *8 
 
90 POEMS. 
 
 Thou upon his steeds can'st sit, 
 Safe as when the evening sun 
 
 Hath thy quiet pathway lit 
 To the coming twilight dun. 
 
 Though the keen-edged lightning's spear 
 
 Through thy form a passage find, 
 Soon the wound shall disappear, 
 
 Leaving not a pang behind. 
 Who the pains of Earth can bear, 
 
 Pains of body and of mind, 
 Nor betray the aching care 
 
 Which around his heart hath twined ? 
 
 Thou canst look on all below 
 
 From thy high and holy seat — 
 Smile at nations' overthrow, 
 
 Caused by man's unbridled heat — 
 Mark the tide of human things 
 
 O'er their ancient barriers beat — 
 And expand unruffled wings 
 
 Where the storms of passion meet. 
 
POEMS. 
 
 Man their changes too may mark — ■ 
 
 Man may battle with their wave — 
 But amid the tumult dark 
 
 Nought he finds that man should crave ; 
 He may mix amid the fray, 
 
 Now to cheer and now to save, 
 But he bears at best away 
 
 Broken heart or troubled grave. 
 
 Oh ! to spend with thee on high, 
 
 Lovely cloud, a sinless day, 
 In the free and holy sky, 
 
 Far from care and strife away. 
 Hold ! the wish were impious, vain ; — 
 
 Rather while on Earth we stay, 
 Strive its tumults to restrain — 
 
 Strive its sorrows to allay. 
 
 Then when life's brief sun hath gone 
 Downward to its evening close, 
 
 If Religion's hand hath drawn 
 Glory round its soft repose, 
 
 91 
 
92 POEMS. 
 
 Far above thy home shall rise, 
 Free the soul from fears and foes, 
 
 And from purer, holier skies, 
 Pitying look on human woes. 
 
 Then, than thou more highly blest, 
 
 Far its chainless wings shall sail, 
 Where no storm shall mar its rest, 
 
 No dark shades its beauty veil ; 
 But around its sinless breast, 
 
 Light, whose glories cannot fail, 
 Still shall float a fadeless vest, 
 
 Where the Sun himself were pale. 
 
POEMS. 
 
 RIZPAH 
 
 The love of woman ! what a deep 
 And fixed devotion marks her love ! 
 Billows may rage, and whirlwinds sweep, 
 But they are powerless to remove 
 That rooted principle — her breast 
 Seems with its influence all possest — 
 In her it hath a mighty power, 
 Force cannot quench nor terror tame — 
 Slumber it may in joyous hour, 
 But blazes with redoubled flame 
 When foes invade or sorrows frown, 
 Or suffering seeks its light to drown — 
 It trembles to the slightest breath, 
 But conquers agony and death. 
 
94 POEMS. 
 
 A female form, with hair unbound, 
 And haggard eye with famine dim, 
 And sunken cheek and wasted limb, 
 Sits houseless on the chilly ground, 
 Her thin hands clasped upon her knee, 
 Her head the rock's hard pillow presses, 
 Whose points, despite her ample tresses, 
 Her fair brow lacerate — but she 
 Feels not the agony they bring, 
 For deeper woes her bosom wring — 
 The body's pangs how light and vain, 
 Compared with that intenser pain 
 Which numbs the heart and burns the brain ! 
 
 Who are the sleepers scattered round, 
 On whom her anxious looks repose ? 
 Her quick ear, quickened by her woes, 
 Hath caught from far the whirring sound 
 Of night birds' wings, and up she springs 
 To scare them from the sleepers' bed — 
 The jackall's cry is sounding nigh, 
 The panther steals with silent tread — 
 He cannot shun that watchful eye, 
 Which through the long night slumbers never- 
 
POEMS. 95 
 
 The surly bear goes prowling by, 
 But there is one who guards the way 
 Between him and his destined prey, 
 Frail, faint and sad, but dauntless ever ! 
 The savage monsters shrink away 
 From those wild eyes unearthly ray, 
 They flee the gesture of that hand, 
 That hollow voice's stern command — 
 The majesty of love is there 
 The strength of weakness, and the power 
 To do, to suffer, and to dare, 
 The high soul, nerved by dark despair, 
 Gives the frail arm in trial's hour. 
 
 The sun upon her sleepless eye 
 Rises in cloudless brilliancy — 
 But rouses not that slumbering band, 
 The objects of her ceaseless care — 
 Why wake they not to greet his rays ? 
 The breeze of morning, soft and bland, 
 Lifts their long hair, and fluttering plays 
 Among their vesture — doth it there 
 For them no joyous influence bear ? 
 
96 POEMS. 
 
 Nor summer's sun, nor summer's air 
 Shall glad their eye or warm their cheek — 
 Those livid features once were fair — 
 Fondly those blood-sealed lips could speak 
 Once to that lovely watcher — now 
 Death's signet is upon their brow, 
 The bloated worm and foul decay 
 Have banquet held for many a day 
 Within their long insensate clay — 
 But she, whose fond maternal breast 
 Once formed the pillow of their rest, 
 For weeks unwearied and alone 
 Hath sat beside their gibbet stone, 
 Her only care to watch and weep, 
 The guardian of their dreamless sleep. 
 The dews by night, the heats by day 
 Have fallen on her defenceless head, 
 Nor chilled nor scorched her love away, 
 Nor sleep hath charmed her eyeballs red 
 From their long watch, nor hunger driven 
 Her wasted body from the rock, 
 Love its most holy power hath given 
 To that lone heart, by sorrow riven, 
 At frailty, famine, death to mock — 
 
POEMS. 97 
 
 She hath had strength to conquer all 
 That might the bravest breast appal. 
 
 Rizpah ! thy task is ended now — 
 Behold, o'er yonder mountain's brow 
 The men of Judah come to bear 
 The bodies to their father's tomb — 
 Bind up thy long dishevelled hair, 
 Chase from thy brow the cloud of gloom ; — 
 With pomp thy dead they shall inhume, 
 Pomp that becomes the sons of Saul, 
 Fresh flowers upon the bier shall bloom ; 
 And 'scutcheons deck the funeral pall. 
 Quit then thy solitary seat 
 For some serene and fair retreat, 
 Where from the dismal scene removed, 
 Rife with the fate of those beloved, 
 Thy days and thy subsiding woe 
 On to their close may gently flow, 
 And thou of mothers queen confessed, 
 Shalt sleep with those thou lov'dst the best. 
 9 
 
98 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 LETHE. 
 
 " Give me," the sorrowing Roman cried, 
 " To drink of Lethe's blessed tide, 
 For woes too great for man to bear 
 
 The Gods upon my heart have thrown, 
 And the dark spectre of despair 
 Falls upon memory's eye alone. 
 
 Could I but taste that stream of Peace, 
 Hope might revive and sorrow cease — 
 The past, a blank, the future free 
 
 For new pursuits, and pleasures new, 
 Life may again move cheerily, 
 
 Unblasted by the shades which threw 
 Ill-omened colors, vaguely cast, 
 Far o'er the future from the past." 
 
POEMS. 99 
 
 The lip is mute which woke the word — 
 Long stilled the heart which sorrow stirred — 
 And Lethe's stream, that could assuage 
 
 The woes which curse the sons of clay, 
 Lives only in the classic page — 
 
 The school-boy's dream, — the poet's lay. 
 
 But if that fabled stream could glide 
 Through earth, with all that power supplied 
 With which mythology once thought 
 Its dark amd slumberous waters fraught, 
 Still, still how few would bend the lip, 
 That dim, oblivious stream to sip, — 
 Save those, who rushing on their fate, 
 Weigh no results and count no cost, 
 Nor pause to think, or pause too late, 
 
 When thought recalled declares them lost. 
 What though along the path of life 
 Lie many a trace of bitter strife, 
 What though the whirlwind and the storm 
 At times across its course have driven, 
 Though rains too fierce and suns too warm 
 W T aste and sterility have given, 
 
100 POEMS. 
 
 Have there not risen some holier joys 
 Those hours of gloom to counterpoise ? 
 Were there not heights along the road 
 Which floods have never overflowed ? 
 Were there no shady bowers to meet 
 The scorching sun's intensest heat ? 
 No rock, on caverned arches based, 
 To shelter from the whirlwind's haste ? 
 
 Pause ere thine eager lip is wet 
 
 With Lethe's tide, and ponder o'er 
 The days and hours thou wouldst forget, 
 Days, hours, to be reviewed no more — 
 Think that within their circle rise 
 All boyhood's blessed memories, 
 When through hope's many-colored glass 
 Thou look'dst on life, and saw it pass, 
 With hues of beauty round it thrown, 
 And gorgeous colors not its own, 
 "When care was but a passing word, 
 
 Whose meaning was to thee unknown, 
 When thou couldst carol like the bird, 
 
POEMS. 101 
 
 And like the bird roam far and free 
 
 By mossy rock or shady tree, 
 And deem their beauties thine alone — 
 
 When grief, if grief assailed those hours, 
 Was but a passing summer cloud, 
 Melting in brief and fitful showers, 
 
 With rays of sunshine glancing through, 
 Too bright for shadows long to shroud, 
 
 Or, if they shrouded, but to strew 
 
 Their dimness with the rainbow's hue. 
 
 Think, ere thou taste the oblivious tide 
 
 Thou wouldst from memory's tablet blot 
 The blessings ripening youth supplied — 
 
 Blessings which life reneweth not — 
 The generous warmth of hearts unchilled 
 By contact with an icy world — 
 
 The trusting confidence which filled 
 The breast of childhood, yet unstilled, 
 Though Doubt had many a missile hurled 
 With bitter force and deadly aim — 
 Hours, when young Friendship's sacred flame, 
 Too bright to die, too soft to harm, 
 Conferred on life a double charm — 
 
102 POEMS. 
 
 Hours, when the thirst for happiness 
 
 Came o'er the heart in such excess, 
 
 That still the renovated sun 
 
 Saw the pursuit again begun, 
 
 And though condemned the prize to miss, 
 
 The very chase itself was bliss — 
 
 Hours, when the light of " Love's young dream" 
 
 Danced ceaseless o'er life's onward stream, 
 
 Changeful indeed, but ever bright, 
 
 Like streamers of the northern light, 
 
 Aye, and as many-hued as they, 
 
 Yet filled with warmth unknown to them, 
 
 The life springs glowed beneath its ray, 
 Flashing and sparkling like the gem 
 Filled with the strong electric spark 
 Within the artist's chamber dark. 
 
 Pause, if a wife have blessed thy side, 
 
 Pure, loving and beloved by thee, 
 Pause, ere thou drink that flattering tide — 
 Pause, if a child have climbed thy knee — 
 Oh, canst thou in all after life 
 Recall that soft delicious strife 
 
POEMS. 103 
 
 Of doubt and joy and hope, which rolled 
 Swift through thy heart when thou didst hold 
 That hand resigned to thee alone, 
 
 And first didst feel its timid pressure 
 Gently responding to thine own, 
 
 Proof that thou hadst obtained the treasure 
 Much sought, and soon thy heart to cheer 
 For long, long days of doubt and fear ? 
 
 Say, can thine after years renew 
 That first strange thrilling joy which flew 
 O'er heart and brain when on thine ear 
 
 Came up thy first-born's plaintive cry, 
 Or when, beholding it, a tear 
 
 Produced by feelings new and dear, 
 A father's feelings — dimmed thine eye ? 
 
 Joys such as these, and many more, 
 
 Mortal, thou canst, whoe'er thou art, 
 Draw out from Memory's hidden store, 
 
 To soften and to bless the heart. 
 The very retrospect of pain, 
 
 Of sorrow, danger, woe and care, 
 
104 POEMS. 
 
 May waken feelings which contain 
 
 More that is soothing, soft and fair, 
 Than sad or bitter. — 
 
 If to lose 
 With painful memories all the good 
 Be Lethe's gift — be mine to choose 
 
 That sweetest joy of solitude, 
 The memory of the past, with all 
 
 Or dark, or bright her power can bring ;- 
 And if the one may thought appal, 
 The other still a light shall fling, 
 So glorious that the shades of pain 
 Shall sink to rise no more again. 
 
POEMS. 105 
 
 THE PASSAGE OF THE JORDAN. 
 
 The hosts of God, by Joshua led, 
 
 Approach the Jordan's eddying tide, 
 And priests, with veiled and bended head, 
 
 Bear to its grassy side 
 The Ark, beneath whose cherub wings 
 Are kept the pure and precious things ; — 
 Behind the morn its radiance flings 
 
 On bannered lance and buckler bright, 
 And brazen trump, whose music rings 
 
 To hail the dawning light. 
 
 The flood before them boils and leaps 
 Along its deep and rocky bed, 
 
 But still the moving column keeps 
 Onward its fearless tread, 
 
106 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 As though no foamy current flowed 
 Between it and the blest abode, 
 To which by many a thorny road 
 
 And desert plain its steps had past, 
 And which in morning's glory glowed 
 
 Green, beautiful and vast. 
 
 And now the Levites' sandalled feet 
 
 Are moistened by the river's edge, 
 Which curls and breaks with murmur sweet 
 
 Amid the bending sedge. 
 Yet pause they not ; with heart of prayer, 
 And faith supported strength they bear 
 That which the torrent shall not dare 
 
 Submerge or mar with angry tide — 
 They know not how — but know that there 
 
 God will a way provide. 
 
 Their faith hath triumphed ; — with the sound 
 Of rushing thunder backward fly 
 
 The affrighted billows, and the ground 
 They moistened now is dry ; 
 
POEMS. 107 
 
 Cleft in the midst the waters stand 
 Obedient to their God's command, 
 Towering aloft on either hand 
 
 A glassy and resplendent heap, 
 Where scenes which blessed the promised land 
 
 In mirrored beauty sleep. 
 
 And fearless down the dark defile 
 
 The countless hosts of Israel go, 
 And loud from trump and harp the while 
 
 The strains of gladness flow. 
 The depths that voices never gave, 
 But those of warring wind and wave, 
 Send from their dark and oozy grave 
 
 The echoing tread of joyous throngs, 
 And praise of Him whose hand can save, 
 
 In loud triumphant songs. 
 
 And now the farther shore they gain, 
 
 And kneeling kiss the promised spot, 
 Which through long years of toil and pain 
 
 Their anxious steps had sought. 
 Whilst with a wild and maddening roar 
 The tides, disjoined from shore to shore, 
 
108 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 Their long suspended waters pour ' 
 To fill the yawning gulf between, 
 
 Closed is the bright mysterious door 
 By which they entered in. 
 
 Christian, behold the typic shade 
 
 Of that dim path prepared for thee — 
 Behold in Jordan's tide displayed 
 
 Death's ever flowing sea. 
 Thou treadest still life's desert plain 
 In toil and sorrow, care and pain ; 
 Trials and doubts and fears maintain 
 
 With thee a fierce and bitter strife, 
 And but for heavenly aid would gain 
 
 The conquest o'er thy life. 
 
 Yet soon that toilsome war shall cease, 
 And thou beside the flood shalt stand, 
 
 Beyond whose waves are realms of peace, 
 A pure and holy land. 
 
 But if thou still hast kept the ark 
 
 Of God before thee as a mark, 
 
POEMS. 
 
 109 
 
 Fear not the troubled waters dark, 
 
 Howe'er they rage and chafe and roar, 
 
 On that mysterious voyage embark, 
 And God will guide thee o'er. 
 
 Pass boldly on in faith and prayer, 
 
 And waves of doubt and floods of fear 
 Shall part and leave a passage there 
 
 To changeless glories near. 
 The dim obscurity shall fail 
 In Death's dark pass and shadowy vale, 
 And thou with gladdened eye shalt hail 
 
 Bright glimpses of the glorious things 
 Which lie beyond and render pale 
 
 The angels' flashing wings. 
 
 And when thou'st gained that blessed shore 
 Forever freed from sin and pain, 
 
 Death's cheated waves shall hiss and roar, 
 Mingling their streams again. 
 
 Thence ever closed, that shadowy door 
 
 Shall entrance give to earth no more— 
 10 
 
110 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 But thou shalt reach the golden floor 
 By Jesus lit and angels trod, 
 
 Ever and ever to adore 
 Thy Savior and thy God. 
 
POEMS. Ill 
 
 THE KENNEBEC. 
 
 He, who hath sped the billows o'er, 
 Which break on Maine's rock-girdled shore, 
 Will marvel when those rocks are passed, 
 Which seem like sturdy barriers cast 
 Against the tempest and the tide, 
 
 How calm within, how soft and fair, 
 How robed in glory and in pride 
 The smiles and hues of Nature are. 
 
 There, Kennebec, like childhood's dream, 
 Flows on thy full and placid stream, 
 Now clasping in its soft embrace 
 
 Some islet with its woody crown, 
 Now hurrying on with swifter pace 
 Where rocky barriers sloping down 
 Give narrower egress to thy tide, 
 And press thy waves on either side. 
 
112 POEMS. 
 
 And thou dost yield where Nature throws 
 Her bars thy wide expanse to close ; 
 But where those puny efforts rise, 
 
 Thrown up by man thy course to stay, 
 Thy waters free those bars despise, 
 And thou dost sweep them all away, 
 Thou wilt not let his arm restrain 
 Thy march to join the mighty main. 
 
 What lovely scenes, fair river, rise 
 Along thy banks, and in thy stream 
 
 Reflected each in beauty lies 
 Like paintings of a fairy dream. 
 
 Through tangled dell and forest deep 
 Thy new-born waves in gladness leap 
 
 Through groves once bright with council fire, 
 By fortress-rock and signal hill, 
 Where Indian warrior roamed at will, 
 
 And where, unworthy of their sire, 
 
 His wretched offspring wander still, — 
 
 His vigor and his spirit fled — 
 
 All but the name changed, lost or dead. 
 
POEMS. 
 
 But thou art sweeping on the same 
 As when that race bestowed thy name, 
 On by the rock which memory keeps 
 Of where good Ralle in silence sleeps ; 
 On, by the vale and by the hill, 
 The classic spires of Water ville, 
 
 And many a town of lesser name, 
 
 Till, sweeping round the broken bar 
 Which man did make and thou didst mar, 
 
 Augusta, like some lovely dame, 
 
 Sits by thy flood and sees her grace 
 Reflected in thy glassy face. 
 
 Thence on with calmer, deeper swell, 
 Thou lav'st the shores of Hallowell ; — 
 Thence, onward still, thy streams divide, 
 Twin sisters of thy widening tide, 
 Gardiner and Pittston ; fair they spread, 
 'Mid verdant slope and forest shade ; 
 The gothic spire that crowns the hill, 
 In thought, before me rises still, 
 Such as it rose, ere hid from view, 
 By curving bank and wooded height, 
 11 
 
 113 
 
**14 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 When to your shores we bade adieu, 
 Homes of true kindness and delight. 
 
 Ah ! swiftly passed the light- winged hours. 
 Amid your hospitable bowers, 
 And soon arrived the destined day, 
 To bear us from those bowers away, 
 And soon upon her foamy path, 
 The steamer gained the shores of Bath, 
 Where, pausing well-known forms to leave 
 
 And stranger voyagers to receive, 
 Soon to thy tide she bade adieu 
 And slept on ocean's billows blue. 
 
 And oft in thought thy quiet scenes 
 Come o'er my mind, — O gentle river, 
 
 And through thy green and waving screens 
 I see the trembling sunlight quiver 
 Across thy face ; or, as at eve, 
 When sunset's beams a rose-robe weave. 
 So deep the smile of Heaven impressed 
 Along thy still and mirrored breast ; 
 I've seen extend from shore to shore 
 The ripple of the boatman's oar. 
 
POEMS. Jlf> 
 
 Still calm be thou, and calm the days 
 Of those who on thy " banks and braes," 
 Have found a quiet, fair retreat ! 
 Far from thy vales be War's red heat ! 
 Far, strife of arms and battle flood, 
 Staining thy Paradise with blood ! 
 Rather let Peace to ploughshares beat 
 The swords rash valour bade to shine 
 Ere while along thy northern line, 
 And teach those nobler arts which spread, 
 Not mar, the gifts which God has shed. 
 
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