V.I.

Now 'tis a desert vast; yet wherefore roam
These countless multitudes? Before them, lo!
The pillared smoke revolves, as on they go,
By Heaven directed to their promised home;
Their garments know not wear; the skies rain bread;
Outgushes water from the obedient rock,

By miracle at once sustained and led;

Until, at length, the Shepherd of the Flock

From Pisgah gazes down on Palestine,

Then shuts in death his eyes that glow with hope divine.

VII.

A crimson battle field!-careering steeds

Over the prostrate and the perished driven ;

The Moon turns pale, the Sun stands still in heaven,

As Israel conquers, and the godless bleeds.

A son's rebellion- Spare him!' cried the king,
The Father; but, from Ephraim, tidings dire

Smite on his beart; for Joab, triumphing,

Hath slain the erring in relentless ire:

Then bleeds his heart, then bows he in despair-
"Oh Absalom, my son !"-and tears his silver hair.

VIII.

A banquet hall—'tis gorgeous Babylon,

The palace, and the satraps; radiant shine A thousand lamps; the heathens' festal wine Brims golden cups that in God's temple shone ;Quenched is the mirth, the music dies away

Belshazzar trembles,-for a visible hand

Writes on the wall the date of his decay

Wealth reft, life forfeited, and bondaged land :

"Twas darkness then, but, ere red morning shone, The Persian bursts his gates, the Mede is on his throne!

IX.

Spirit of Homer! is it but a dream,

A spectre of the fancy, that reveals

To us such majesty and power, and steals The bosom from what is, to what may seem?→ It matters not; still Agamemnon reigns,

The king of men; by Chrysa moors the fleet;
Achilles in his chariot scours the plains,

Shewing to Troy slain Hector at his feet;
Andromache laments, and Ruin lowers
On Priam's princely line, and Ilion's fated towers-

X.

Behold on yon seven hills a city reared,

Immense, majestic, mistress of the world;
O'er all the standard of her power unfurled,
By subject nations is obeyed and feared.
She calls her vassals-Mauritania pours

Her golden tribute; proud Hispania bows;
Rude Albion answers from her chalky shores;

The echo sounds o'er Scandinavia's snows;
Swart Scythia hears the summons; and, afar,
Blue Thule in the main 'neath Eve's descending star.

XI.

Behold the Persian-like a green bay tree
Flaunting in summer beauty; to the shores
Of Hellespont an armed million pours

To shackle Greece-to subjugate the free:
Yet, Xerxes, thou wert man, and shall not die
Thy passionate saying; still thy voice we hear,

As, o'er the peopled plains' immensity,

Flashed to the sunset corslet, helm, and spear; "A century hence,-and of this fair array

There beats no bosom now, but shall be silent clay!"

XII.

City of Dido, by the sounding sea!

I know thee by thy grandeur desolate

Green weeds wave rankly o'er thy levelled gate;
The wild-fowl and the serpent dwell in thee.-
Where are thy navies? Whelmed beneath the wave!
Where are thine armies, that with thundering tread
Shook Rome to her foundation-rocks, and gave

Manure to Cannæ of the Roman dead?

Nought of thy vanished state the silence speaks;
The Fisher spreads his nets; on high the heron shrieks!

XIII.

Oh, hundred-gated Thebes magnificent!

Where Memnon's image hymned the march of Time,
As sank the day-star mid the dewy prime,

In tones celestial with the sunrise blent,

I know thee by thy remnants Titan-like;

And thee, proud Memphis, proud alas! no more, Whose thinned and desolate fragments scarcely strike

The Pilgrim's eye on thy blue river shore;

And thee, Palmyra, mid whose silent piles

Still lingering Grandeur sleeps, the unworshipped Sun still smiles.

XIV.

I see thee now, supreme Jerusalem,

The city of the chosen, great in power;

Glory surrounds thee in thy noontide hour,

Of Palestine's green plains the diadem.—
Now graves give up their dead mid thunders drear;
A murmuring multitude on Calvary see!—

The temple's vail is rent;-a sound of fear!

"Tis Eli! Eli!' from the accursed tree;

Daylight shrinks waning from the scene abhorred,

And shuddering Nature shares the pangs that pierce her Lord.

XV.

From Danube, see, from Don, and Volga's banks,
Come pouring to the South barbarian hordes,
Innumerous, irresistible; keen swords

Their only heritage, their home the ranks;
Erst like the locusts on Egyptian vales

They darken, and the treasured stores consume;
And Science is o'erthrown; and Courage fails;
And, droop the eagles of imperial Rome;

Art palsied wanes; and Wisdom sighs to find

A second gloomier night o'ershadowing lost mankind.

XVI.

A fierce acclaim! Alarm's loud trumpet-call-
And up in arms the banded nations rise,

The Red Cross standards flout the morning skies,

To rescue Palestine from Paynim thrall:

The Lion-hearted girds his falchion on,—

Bright beams the Gallic ensign o'er the wave;
Death's vultures crowd o'er carnaged Ascalon ;
But Salem, unsubdued, resists the brave:-

Where hath the Victor gone? His minstrel plays,--
And from false Austria's cell come back responsive lays !

XVII.

Now rises from the dusk subjected Earth

Forth walks Civilization, to illume

With Learning's light divine the Gothic gloom,
Awaking man as 'twere to second birth:
Greens barren valley,-blossoms desert plain,—
Towers city flourishing,-smiles hamlet home,-
Track venturous navies the engirding main,—

O'er willing lands Religion's banners roam,—
Dawns mental day-and Freedom's sacred pile
Is reared, by proud resolve, in Albion's favoured isle!

XVIII.

Most fortunate, most fortunate, for now

Broods over Gaul the tempest-cloud of blood! Down, down it streams around, a crimson flood! Afar the deluge pours, to overthrow

Peoples, and empires; Chaos frowns on man

With midnight threatening; Reason is o'erthrown; Red Murder roams in Desolation's van;

And phrenzied Anarchy makes earth her own;

Hope trembles; and Religion, with a sigh,

Shrieks as her burning shrines rejoice the Atheist's eye!!

XIX.

Yet, queen of nations, yet in thee is found

The buckler and the sword;-thy war hath gone
Amid Heaven's foes, invincible, alone-

For all beside were bleeding, faint, or bound;
The rampart of the righteous,-in the day

Of need, thy succouring arm is strongly felt;
Before thy flooding sunlight rush away

Hell's spectral legions, and in shadows melt; Crushed is the serpent breed, the unholy crew, And Triumph wreathes thy head on deathless Waterloo!

XX.

I listen, for a sound salutes mine ear

Of harmony divine; beneath the Star

Of Eve, 'tis borne across the waves afar, From isles that studding Ocean's robe appear: Hearken ye now to Adoration's tones!

At Truth's pure shrine the heathen bows the knee! Owns his low worthlessness, submissly owns

His trust in HIM who bled on Calvary!—

Mid the blue main the sailor stays his oars,

Wondering at incense such from lone Pacific shores.