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A thousand cups of gold,
In Judah deem'd divine Jehovah's vessels hold
The godless heathen's wine !
In that saine hour and hall,
The fingers of a hand Came forth against the wall,
And wrote as if on sand : The fingers of a man,
A solitary hand Along the letters ran,
And traced them like a wand.
The monarch saw,
and shook, And bade no more rejoice; All bloodless wax'd his look,
And tremulous his voice. “Let the men of lore
appear, The wisest of the earth, And expound the words of fear,
Which mar our royal mirth.”
Chaldea's seers are good,
But here they have no skill ; And the unknown letters stood,
Untold and awful still. And Babel's men of age
Are wise and deep in lore; But now they were not sage,
They saw—but knew no more.
A captive in the land,
A stranger and a youth,
He saw that writing's truth.
The prophecy in view; He read it on that night,
The morrow proved it true.
“ Belshazzar's grave is made,
His kingdom pass'd away;
Is light and worthless clay.
the stone; The Mede is at his gate!
The Persian on his throne !"
SUN OF THE SLEEPLESS.
Sun of the sleepless ! melancholy star!
WERE MY BOSOM AS FALSE AS THOU DEEM'ST IT
WERE my bosom as false as thou deem'st it to be,
was but abjuring my creed to efface
If the bad never triumph, then God is with thee!
I have lost for that faith more than thou canst bestow,
doth know; In his hand is my heart and my hope—and in thine The land and the life which for him I resign.
HEROD'S LAMENT FOR MARIAMNE.
Oh, Mariamne! now for thee
The heart for which thou bled’st is bleeding ; Revenge is lost in
agony, And wild remorse to rage succeeding. Oh, Mariamne! where art thou ?
Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading : Ah, couldst thou—thou wouldst pardon now,
Though Heaven were to my prayer unheeding.
And is she dead ?—and did they dare
Obey my frenzy's jealous raving ?
The sword that sinote her 's o'er me waving.
And this dark heart is vainly craving
And leaves my soul unworthy saving.
She 's gone, who shared
Whose leaves for me alone were blooming.
This bosom's desolation dooming:
Which unconsumed are still consuming !
ON THE DAY OF THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM BY
From the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome
I look'd for thy temple, I look'd for my
On many an eve, the high spot whence I gazed
And now on that mountain I stood on that day,
BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON WE SAT DOWN AND WEPT.
We sat down and wept by the waters
Of Babel, and thought of the day
Made Salem's high places his prey;
Were scatter'd all weeping away.
Which rollid on in freedom below,
That triumph the stranger shall know !
Ere it string our high harp for the foe!
Oh Salem! its sound should be free!
But left me that token of thee :
With the voice of the spoiler by me!
THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green,
For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast,
eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill,
And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
A SPIRIT pass'd before me: I beheld
• Is man more just than God? Is man more pure
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.