The Soldier's Bride.
LOUD was the revel in the palace hall,
Where Hermon's Lord kept reign,
And the vine dew sparkled in vase and chalice, From Andalusian Spain.
And deeds of valour were boastingly sung,
And songs swelled furiously,
Till the trophied walls far backward flung,
The merry roundelay.
Young Ena, Lord Hermon's only child,
Tripped through the hall and gaily smiled.
To each admiring gaze;
And tossed her head, and flashed her eye,
As her sylph-like figure flitted by,
The theme of each reveller's praise. And the hours sped on with winged flight'Twas the beautiful Ena's natal night.
When, hark! there came to the banquet hall
The knock of a timid hand-
And the revellers hushed till a voice did call
In accents clear and bland-
"Lordlings, need ye the minstrel's swell
To speed the laughing wine?
For I have travelled far, and can tell
Of many a warrior's fate; and well
Can I sing of the land of the vine."
They opened the door, and the minstrel came
With a bent and lowly bow;
He touched the hand of the fairy dame,
And oft, with a cheek that burnt like flame,
To the guests he bowed full low.
He sang of many a warrior's fate;
But brighter flashed his eye,
As he proudly sprang from his lowly seat,
And raising his huge voice high,
Sang gallantly and fearlessly
Of the Corsic eagle's flight;
For then was the time when Napoleon
Cut his way to an iron throne;
And the steel was the surest right.
The host he praised, and the guests they cheered;
But still to the girl the minstrel neared―
Till he stood by fair Ena's side. Now, by my word," Lord Hermon said, "So well the time and tune thou'st sped,
That I swear by my knightly pride, What boon thou askest this night I will give, This will I do as my soul doth live."
"Then, Lord," he cried, with a flushing brow,
By thy knightly oath, by thy saintly vow-
I claim this fair lady's hand;"
And he laid his hand on the lady's arm.
Then dark brows flashed like a midnight storm,
Till rose at that lord's command—
"Seize the poltroon? Let the lowest cell
Echo that filthy minstrel's yell !"
Then wild and high the clamour rung,
For the wine had loosened every tongue-
Still that young presumer cried-
"By thine oath, by thy vow,
She is mine, Lord, mine!
I have won and I'll keep my bride.”
He seized the girl, and his sword he flashed-
From side to side the revellers dashed,
Till the blood was freely gushing;
But their laughter ceased, for that bold boy's arm
Made mighty havoc among the swarm,
And still, through the thick press rushing,
He baffled his foes, and laughed at their roar,
And cried, as he reached the castle door,
"Lord Hermon, stifle thy pride.
Thou may'st rage, and thou may'st chafe-'twill be fruit
For the arm of man shall ne'er despoil
Murat of his beautiful bride."
All stood aghast as that stern man passed,
Then madly pursued in a multitude;
But all that they heard were the wind-swept words,
"She is won like a soldier's bride."
Rhythm of Bernard de Morlaix.
THE world is very evil; the times are waxing late :
Be sober and keep vigil; the Judge is at the gate: [might,
The Judge that comes in mercy, the Judge that comes with
To terminate the evil, to diadem the right.
[tomb,
When the just and gentle monarch shall summon from the
Let man, the guilty, tremble, for Man, the God, shall doom.
Arise, arise, good Christain, let right to wrong succeed;
Let penitential sorrow to heavenly gladness lead.
And when the Sole-Begotten shall render up once more
The kingdom to the Father whose own it was before,—
Then glory yet unheard of shall shed abroad its ray,
Resolving all enigmas, an endless Sabbath-day.
Then, then from his oppressors the Hebrew shall go free,
And celebrate in triumph the year of Jubilee ;
And the sunlit Land that recks not of tempest nor of fight, Shall fold within its bosom each happy Israelite : The Home of fadeless splendour, of flowers that fear no thorn, [mourn
Where they shall dwell as children, who here as exiles Midst peace! for war is needless,-midst calm! for storm is past,
And goal from finished labour, an anchorage at last.
That peace-but who may claim it! the guileless in their
[say. Who keep the ranks of battle, who mean the thing they There nothing can be feeble, there none can ever mourn, There nothing is divided, there nothing can be torn : 'Tis fury, ill, and scandal, 'tis peaceless peace below; Peace, endless, strifeless, ageless, the halls of Syon know: O happy, holy portion, refection for the blest; True vision of true beauty, sweet cure of all distrest! Strive, man, to win that glory; toil, man, to gain that light; Send hope before to grasp it, till hope be lost in sight. Here is the warlike trumpet; there, life set free from sin; When to the last Great Supper the faithful shall come in. Jerusalem demands them: the ransomed of the earth, They now shall reap the harvest in blissfulness and mirth : The glorious holy people, who evermore relied Upon their Chief and Father, the King, the Crucified.
Brief life is here our portion; brief sorrow, short-liv'd care;
The life that knows no ending, the tearless life is there.
O happy retribution! short toil, eternal rest;
For mortals and for sinners a mansion with the blest!
That we should look, poor wanderers, to have our home on
high!
[sky!
That worms should seek for dwellings beyond the starry
To all one happy guerdon of one celestial grace;
For all, for all, who mourn their fall, is one eternal place.
And now we fight the battle, but then shall wear the crown
Of full and everlasting and passionless renown.
And now we watch and struggle, and now we live in hope,
And Syon, in her anguish, with Babylon must cope:
But He Whom now we trust in shall then be seen and
known,
[own.
And they that know and see Him shall have Him for their
And none shall there be jealous; and none shall there con-
tend:
Fraud, clamour, guile-what say I, all ill, all ill shall end!
And there is David's Fountain, and life in fullest glow,
And there the light is golden, and milk and honey flow:
The light that hath no evening, the health that hath no sore,
The life that hath no ending, but lasteth evermore.
Yes! God my King and Portion, in fulness of His grace,
We then shall see for ever, and worship face to face.
Then all the halls of Syon for aye shall be complete,
And, in the Land of Beauty, all things of beauty meet.
For thee, O dear, dear Country! mine eyes their vigils keep;
For very love, beholding thy happy name, they weep:
The mention of thy glory is unction to the breast,
And medicine in sickness, and love, and life, and rest.
O one, O onely Mansion! O Paradise of joy!
Where tears are ever banished, and smiles have no alloy;
Beside the living waters all plants are, great and small,
The cedar of the forest, the hyssop of the wall; [blaze;
With jaspers glow thy bulwarks; thy streets with emeralds
The sardius and the topaz unite in Thee their rays:
Thine ageless walls are bonded with amethyst unpriced :
Thy Saints build up its fabric, and the corner-stone is
Christ.
The Lamb is all thy splendour, the Crucified thy praise:
His laud and benediction thy ransomed people raise:
Jesus, the Gem of Beauty, true God and Man, they sing:
The never-failing Garden, the ever-golden Ring:
The Door, the Pledge, the Husband, the Guardian of His
Court.
The Day-star of Salvation, the Porter and the Port.
Thou hast no shore, fair ocean! thou hast no time, bright day!
Dear fountain of refreshment to pilgrims far away!
Upon the Rock of Ages they raise thy holy tower;
Thine is the victor's laurel, and thine the golden dower.
Jerusalem the golden, with milk and honey blest,
Beneath thy contemplation sink heart and voice oppressed:
I know not, O I know not, what social joys are there!
What radiancy of glory, what light beyond compare !
They stand, those halls of Syon, all jubilant with song,
And bright with many an angel, and all the martyr throng:
The Prince is ever in them; the daylight is serene;
The pastures of the Blessed are decked in glorious sheen.
There is the Throne of David-and there, from care released,
The shout of them that triumph, the song of them that feast;
And they who, with their Leader, have conquered in the
fight,
For ever and for ever are clad in robes of white!
O holy, placid harp-notes of that eternal hymn!
O sacred, sweet refection, and peace of Seraphim!
O thirst, for ever ardent, yet evermore content!
O true, peculiar vision of God omnipotent!
Ye know the many mansions for many a glorious name,
And divers retributions that divers merits claim:
For midst the constellations that deck our earthly sky,
This star than that is brighter,--and so it is on high.
Jerusalem the glorious! the glory of the Elect !
O dear and future vision that eager hearts expect:
Even now by faith I see thee: even here thy walls discern :
To thee my thoughts are kindled, and strive and pant and
yearn.
O none can tell thy bulwarks, how gloriously they rise:
O none can tell thy capitals of beautiful device :
Thy loveliness oppresses all human thought and heart :
And none, O peace, O Syon, can sing thee as thou art :
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