ous fire the plague-breathing airand the yawning and wide-chasmed earth, as by habit bound" to the usage of obedience." Or the rather, Look we in weary yet undaunted hope For Him that is to come, the Mighty Arm, The Wearer of the purple robe of vengeance, The Crowned with dominion? Let him haste; The wine-press waits the trampling of his wrath, And Judah yearns to unfurl the Lion ban ner Before the terrible radiance of his coming. pp. 39, 40. We request our readers to attend to the contrast between the Messiah of the Christians, and the Messiah of the Jews, as it is exhibited in the hymn of Miriam, and the soliloquy of her father. Simon the Pharisee is now joined by John the Sadducee, Eleazar the High Priest, Amariah, and others. John, in a strain of bitter irony, mocks the Pharisee for his opinions, and the cruelty of his conduct. Simon retorts his sarcasms, by reminding him of his licentiousness. The High Priest interposes, and advises them, in the present emergency, to waive all civil strife. The dialogue is interrupted by the demand of a parley on the part of the Romans. Titus summons the Jewish leaders to lay down their arms, and to sue for mercy. This overture is rejected with disdain. And Simon is highly applauded by the Jews on the wall, when he tells the Roman commanders, that he and his army should fall like Sennacherib and his Assyrians, before the avenging God of Israel." Titus at length exclaims, 66 Those breathing, moving, valiant multitudes? Salone. And thou! oh thou, that movest to the battle Even like the mountain stag to the running river, Pause, pause, that I may gaze my fill !- The glory of his presence awes the conflict! Miriam. Alas! what means she! Hear I will return or ere the wounded men 1 soothe them. Require our soft and healing hands to Thou'lt not forget, Salone-if thou seest Our father in the fearful hour of peril, Lift up thy hands and pray. Salone. To gaze on himIt is like gazing on the morning sun, When he comes scattering from his burning orb The vapourish clouds! And here's a sight and sound to me more Miriam. She hears, she heeds me not. welcome But through a name, by them unknown or scorn'd, My prayers shall mount to heaven. Then follows a chorus of the daughters of Jerusalem of great poetical merit, and, indeed, only a fine version of the song of Moses. It begins thus: King of Kings! and Lord of Lords! Thus we move our sad steps timing that it is her purpose again to visit In a soliloquy of Miriam, we learn Salone, with her veil cast back, and "Siloe's fountain." She is joined by with her streaming hair, in all respects more frantic than before, and still raving about Amariah. The Jews fly before the Romans, and a long and 66 angry altercation ensues between Simon and John, who tax each other with the repulse their arms had experienced. The High Priest again interferes, and fills all present with horror, by informing them, that prayers had been made in the Temple, even to the crucified Man our fathers slew." Simon declares, that were it his own child who had done this deed, he would hurl destruction on her guilty head. Salone is about to accuse her sister, when a voice at a distance is heard exclaiming, "Israel! Israel!" This exclamation is found to proceed from Abiram, a false prophet, who declares it to be the will of Heaven, that Amariah, son of John, and Salone, daughter of Simon, should be united together in marriage. Simon. He speaks from heaven-accept'st thou, John of Galilee, Heaven's terms of peace? John. From earth or heaven, I care not. What says my boy? Amariah refers the matter to the "raven-haired Salone," who replies, "What prophets speak must be fulfilled." Simon asks Abiram if he foresaw whether the "Hope of Israel" should spring from the proposed union? The false prophet takes the hint, and says, "A light falls on me." Simon. Prophet! what shall dye The robe of purple with so bright a grain As Roman blood? Before our gates are met The Lords of empire, and our walls may laugh Their siege to scorn, even till the BRANCH be grown That's not yet planted-Yea, the wrested sceptre Of earth, the sole dominion-Back, Abiram, To thy prophetic cave-kneel, pray, fast, weep; And thou shalt bless us with far nobler tidings, And we will kiss thy feet, thou Harbinger Of Judah's glory. We are now conducted back to the Fountain of Siloe, when the darkness of the night is deepened by an approaching storm, to witness a most tender scene between Javan and Miriam. Javan's lamentation over the fate of the city is in a highly elevated strain of poetry. Yet, guilty city, who shall mourn for thee? Look down! look down, avenged Calvary, "Her house is left unto her desolate ;" Fulfils at length the tardy doom of heaven; On the rebellious race that crucified their Of this night's fearful prodigies; and tells them that Michol, In the streets of Jerusalem the Jews converse together respecting the signs and strange sights which had appeared in the heavens, and which had been observed to assume a very threatening aspect. While thus employed, they are joined by a Levite, who tells themed, her own child in the extremity of the eastern gate of the Temple had opened spontaneously, and that all the strength of man vainly toiled the city. Scarcely had he finished the her hunger, caused by the famine in horrible recital, when bursting sounds of the chorus are heard singing, Joy to thee, beautiful and bashful Bride! Joy! for the thrills of pride and joy become thee; Thy curse of barrenness is taken from And thou shalt see the rosy infant sleeping To the howling ravagers-they are every where. I've closed mine eyes, and rush'd I know not whither, and furious And still are swords, and men, faces Before me, and behind me, and around me. But ah! the shrieks that come from out the dwellings Of my youth's loved companions-every where I hear some dear and most familiar voice And I might now have been by that sweet Where the winds whisper through the moonlight leaves, I might have been with Javan there-Off, off These are not thoughts for one about to die Oh, Lord and Saviour Christ! ་ (Crown'd with no kingly diadem) the pale blood Was shaken off, as with a patient pity The curse upon my head, my voice had cried Unto the Roman, "On us be his blood, And on our children !"—and on us it hath been My children and my children's children, all, The Gentile sword hath reap'd them one by one, And I, the last dry wither'd shock, await The gleaning of the slaughterer. pp. 132-135. The dialogue goes on in the same dread strain, when Miriam says, Mir. Ha!-but now, oh! now Thou own'st him for the eternal Son of God, The mock'd, and scourg'd, and crown'd, and crucified. Thou dost believe the blazing evidence The solemn preacher, Desolation, Old Man. Maiden, I believe them, Believe, and thou shalt live! Mine age's teacher? Mir. Hath not God ordain'd Wisdom from babes and sucklings? Old Man. Back, I say; I have lived a faithful child of Abraham, And so will die. Mir. For ever!-He is gone, Yet he looks round, and shakes his hoary head In dreadful execration 'gainst himself What's here ? It is mine home, the dwelling of my youth, O'er which the flames climb up with such fierce haste. Lo, lo! they burst from that house-top, where oft My sister and myself have sate and sang Our pleasant airs of gladness! Ah, Salone! Where art thou now? These, these are not the lights That should be shining on a marriage bed. pp. 137-139. The same destruction The foe are now in the streets, and "the Universal City burns." Miriam meets her sister wounded and talking wildly of her Amariah, who, to save her from pollution, had given her her death-blow. Simon is made prisoner, the Temple, in spite of the efforts of Titus to save it, is set on fire, and Miriam is borne off by a soldier, who is singularly gentle and respectful. The closing scene is at the Fountain of Siloe, and we know not if it be surpassed either in tenderness or sublimity. MIRIAM, THE Soldier. Mir. Here, here-not here-Oh! any where but here Not toward the fountain, not by this lone path. If thou wilt bear me hence, I'll kiss thy feet, I'll call down blessings, a lost virgin's blessings Upon thy head. Thou hast hurried me along, Through darkling street, and over smoking ruin, And yet there seem'd a soft solicitude, Oh, strangely cruel! And wilt thou make me sit even on this stone, Where I have sate so oft, when the calm moonlight Lay in its slumber on the slumbering fountain? Ah! where art thou, thou that wert ever with me, Oh Javan! Javan! The Soldier. When was Javan call'd By Miriam, that Javan answer'd not? Forgive me all thy tears, thy agonies. I dar'd not speak to thee, lest the strong joy 'Should overpower thee, and thy feeble limbs Refuse to bear thee in thy flight. Javan had borne Miriam where his Christian friends were ready to receive them. They see the Temple fall amid the flames. Javan says, And it is now no more, Nor ever shall be to the end of time, The Temple of Jerusalem!-Fall down, My brethren, on the dust, and worship here The mysteries of God's wrath. Even so shall perish, In its own ashes, a more glorious Temple, Yea, God's own architecture, this vast world, This fated universe-the same destroyer, Earth, behold! Earth, Earth, And in that judgment look upon thine own! |