JOSHUA COMMANDING THE SUN, ETC.
The sun, and on the fortresses of rock
Play'd a soft glow, that as a mockery seem'd
To the stern men who girded by its light.
Beth-Horon in the distance slept, and breath
Was pleasant in the vale of Ajalon,
Where armed heels trod carelessly the sweet
Wild spices, and the trees of gum were shook
By the rude armour on their branches hung.
Suddenly in the camp without the walls
Rose a deep murmur, and the men of war
Gather'd around their kings, and “Joshua !
From Gilgal, Joshua!" was whisper'd low,
As with a secret fear, and then, at once,
With the abruptness of a dream, he stood
Upon the rock before them. Calmly then
Raised he his helm, and with his temples bare
And hands uplifted to the sky, he pray'd ;—
"God of this people, hear! and let the sun
Stand upon Gibeon, still; and let the moon
Rest in the vale of Ajalon!" He ceased-
And lo! the moon sits motionless, and earth
Stands on her axis indolent. The sun
Pours the unmoving column of his rays
In undiminish'd heat; the hours stand still
The shade hath stopp'd upon the dial's face;
The clouds and vapours that at night are wont
To gather and enshroud the lower earth,
Are struggling with strange rays, breaking them up,
Scattering the misty phalanx like a wand,
Glancing o'er mountain tops, and shining down
In broken masses on the astonish'd plains.
The fever'd cattle group in wondering herds;
The weary birds go to their leafy nests,
But find no darkness there, and wander forth
On feeble, fluttering wing, to find a rest;
The parch'd, baked earth, undamp'd by usual dews,
Has gaped and crack'd, and heat, dry, mid-day heat,
Comes like a drunkard's breath upon the heart.
On with thy armies, Joshua! The Lord
God of Sabaoth is the avenger now!
His voice is in the thunder, and his wrath
Poureth the beams of the retarded sun,
With the keen strength of arrows, on their sight.
The unwearied sun rides in the zenith sky;
Nature, obedient to her Maker's voice,
Stops in full course all her mysterious wheels.
On! till avenging swords have drunk the blood
Of all Jehovah's enemies, and till
Thy banners in returning triumph wave;
Then yonder orb shall set 'mid golden clouds,
And, while a dewy rain falls soft on earth,
Show in the heavens the glorious bow of God,
Shining, the rainbow banner of the skies.
I TRUST the frown thy features wear
Ere long into a smile will turn;
I would not that a face so fair
As thine, beloved, should look so stern.
The chain of ice that winter twines,
Holds not for aye the sparkling rill,
It melts away when summer shines,
And leaves the waters sparkling still.
Thus let thy cheek resume the smile
That shed such sunny light before;
And though I left thee for a while,
I'll swear to leave thee, love, no more.
As he who, doomed o'er waves to roam,
Or wander on a foreign strand,
Will sigh whene'er he thinks of home,
And better love his native land;
So I, though lured a time away,
Like bees by varied sweets, to rove,
Return, like bees, by close of day,
And leave them all for thee, my love.
Then let thy cheek resume the smile
That shed such sunny light before,
And though I left thee for a while,
I'll swear to leave thee, love, no more.
[Suggested by the attendance on Public Worship of the Cadets.—June, 1833.]
BUGLES upon the wind!
Hushed voices in the air,
And the solemn roll of the stirring drum,
Proclaim the hour of prayer;
While, with measured tread and downcast eye
The martial train sweep silent by!
Away with the nodding plume,
And the glittering bayonet now,
For unmeet it were, with bannered pomp,
To record the sacred vow.
To earth-born strife let display be given,
But the heart's meek homage alone to heaven.
The organ's mellow notes
Come swelling on the breeze,
And, echoing forth from arch to dome,
Float richest symphonies!
While youthful forms, a sunny throng,
With their voices deep the strains prolong!
Deserted now the aisles
Devotion's rites are past;
And again the bugle's cheering peals
Are ringing on the blast!
Come forth, ye brave, for your country now, With your flashing eyes and your lofty brow!
A voice from the glorious dead!
Awake to the call of fame!
By yon gorgeous banner's spangled folds,
And by Kosciusko's name!
And on Putnam's fort by the light that falls
On its ivied moat and its ruined walls,
The wave-worn cavern sends
Hoarse echoes from the deep,
And the patriot call is heard afar
From every giant steep!
And the young hearts glow with the sacred fires That burned in the breasts of their gallant sires.
The glittering pageant's past,
But martial forms are seen,
With bounding step and eagle glance,
Careering o'er the green;
And lovely woman by their side,
With her blushing cheek and her eye of pride.
Sunset upon the wave,
Its burnished splendours pour,
And the bird-like bark with its pinions sweeps
Like an arrow from the shore !
There are golden locks in the sunbeam, fanned
On the mirrored stream by the breezes bland.
They have passed like shadows by
That fade in the morning beam,
And the sylph-like form, and the laughing eye,
Are remembered like a dream;
But memory's sun shall set in night
Ere my soul forget those forms of light.
AFTER ESCAPE FROM INDIAN PERILS.
BY MRS. ANNE E. BLEECKER.-1778.
ALAS! my fond inquiring soul,
Doomed in suspense to mourn,
Now let thy moments calmly roll,
Now let thy peace return.
Why should'st thou let a doubt disturb
Thy hopes which daily rise,
And urge thee on to trust his word,
Who built and rules the skies?
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