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And here's a sight and sound to me more welcome
Than the wild fray of men who slay and die
Our maidens on their way to the Holy Temple.
I'll mingle with them, and I'll pray with them;
But through a name, by them unknown or scorn'd,
My prayers shall mount to heaven.

Behold them here!
Behold them, how unlike to what they were !
O virgin daughters of Jerusalem !
Ye were a garden once of Hermon's lilies,
That bashfully upon their tremulous stems
Bow to the wooing breath of the sweet spring.
Graceful ye were ! there needed not the tone
Of tabret, harp, or lute, to modulate
Your soft harmonious footsteps ; your light tread
Fell like a natural music. Ah! how deeply
Hath the cold blight of misery prey'd upon you!
How heavily ye drag your weary footsteps,
Each like a mother mourning her one child !
Ah me! I feel it almost as a sin,
To be so much less sad, less miserable.

King of Kings ! and Lord of Lords !

Thus we move, our sad steps timing

To our cymbals' feeblest chiming,
Where thy House its rest accords.
Chased and wounded birds are we,
Through the dark air fled to thee;
To the shadow of thy wings,
Lord of Lords! and King of Kings!
Behold, oh Lord! the Heathen tread (13)

The branches of thy fruitful vine,
That its luxurious tendrils spread

O'er all the hills of Palestine.
And now the wild boar comes to waste
Eren us, the greenest boughs and last,
That, drinking of thy choicest dew,
On Zion's hill in beauty grew.
No! by the marvels of thine hand,
Thou still wilt save thy chosen land!
By all thine ancient mercies shown,
By all our fathers' foes o'erthrown;
By the Egyptian's car-borne host,
Scatter'd on the Red Sea coast;
By that wide and bloodless slaughter
Underneath the drowning water.
Like us in utter helplessness,
In their last and worst distress-
On the sand and sea-weed lying,
Israel pour'd her doleful sighing ;
While before the deep sea flow'd
And behind fierce Egypt rode -
To their father's God they pray'd,
To the Lord of Hosts for aid.
On the margin of the flood
With lifted rod the Prophet stood ;
And the summon'd east wind blew
And aside it sternly threw
The gather'd waves, that took their stand,
Like crystal rocks, on either hand,

Or walls of sea-green marble piled
Round some irregular city wild.
Then the light of morning lay
On the wonder-paved way,
Where the treasures of the deep
In their caves of coral sleep.
The profound abysses, where
Was never sound from upper air,
Rang with Israel's chanted words,
King of Kings! and Lord of Lords !
Then with bow and banner glancing,

On exulting Egypt came,
With her chosen horsemen prancing,

And her ears on wheels of fame,
In a rich and boastful ring
All around her furious king.
But the Lord from out his cloud,
The Lord look'd down upon the proud ;
And the host drave heavily
Down the deep bosom of the sea.
With a quick and sudden swell
Prone the liquid ramparts fell;
Over horse, and over car,
Over every man of war,
Over Pharaoh's crown of gold,
The loud thundering billows rollid.
As the level waters spread,
Down they sank, they sank like lead,
Down without a cry or groan.
And the morning sun, that shone
On myriads of bright-armed men,

Its meridian radiance then
Cast on a wide sea, heaving as of yore,
Against a silent, solitary shore.

Then did Israel's maidens sing,

Then did Israel's timbrels ring,
To him, the King of Kings! that in the sea,
The Lord of Lords! had triumph'd gloriously

And our timbrels' Aashing chords,
King of Kings! and Lord of Lords!
Shall they not attuned be
Once again to victory?
Lo! a glorious triumph now!

Lo! against thy people come
A mightier Pharaoh! wilt not thou

Craze the chariot wheels of Rome?
Will not, like the Red Sea wave,

Thy stern anger overthrow?
And from worse than bondage save,

From sadder than Egyptian woe,
Those whose silver cymbals glance,
Those who lead the suppliant dance,
Thy race, the only race that sings
Lord of Lords! and King of Kings!

Streets of Jerusalem-Evening.

MIRIAM Ah me! ungentle Eve, how long thou lingerest! Oh! when it was a grief to me to lose


Yon azure mountains, and the lovely vales
That from our city walls seem wandering on

Under the cedar-tufted precipices;

SIMON With what an envious and a hurrying swiftness Now may your native towers rush o'er your heads Didst thou descend, and pour thy mantling dews With horrible downfall, may the treacherous stones And dew-like silence o'er the face of things; Start underneath your footing, cast you down, Shrouding each spot I loved the most with suddenest | For the iron wheels of vengeance to rush o'er youAnd deepest darkness; making mule the groves Flight! flight! still flight!-Oh, infidel renegades ! Where the birds nestled under the still leaves! But now, how slowly, heavily thou fallest!

The above, John, AMARIAH, HIGH-PRIEST, etc. Now, when thou mightest hush the angry din Of battle, and conceal the murtherous foes

Now, by the living God of Israel, John! From mutual slaughter, and pour oil and wine Your silken slaves, your golden-sandal'd men,Into the aching hurts of wounded men!

Your men! I should have said, your girls of Gali But is it therefore only that I chide thee

lee!-With querulous impatience? will the night

They will not soil their dainty hands with blood. Once more, the secret, counsel-keeping night, Thoir myrrh-dew'd locks are all too smoothly curl'd Veil the dark path which leads to Siloe's fountain ? To let the riotous and dishevelling airs Which leads-why should I blush to add-to Javan? Of battle violate their crisped neatness. Oh thou, my teacher! I forgot thee not

Oh! their nice mincing steps are all unfit This morning in the Temple--I forgot not

To tread the red and slippery paths of war; The name thou taught'st me to adore, nor thee- Yet they can trip it lightly when they turn

But what have I to do with thoughts like these, To fly — While all around the stunning battle roars

JOHN Like a gorged lion o'er his mangled prey ?

Thou lying and injurious Pharisee! Alas! alas! but the human appetite

For every man of thine that in the trenches For shedding blood that is insatiate !

Hardly hath consented to lay down his life, -Time was, that if I heard a sound of arms, Twice len of mine have leap'd from off the walls, My heart would shudder, and my limbs would fail.

Grappling a Gentile by the shivering helm, When, to have seen a dying man had been

And proudly died upon his dying foe. A dark event, that with its fearful memory

But tell thou me, thou only faithful Simon! Had haunted many a sad and sleepless night. Where are the men of Edom, whom we saw But now-now

Stretching their amicable hands in parley,

And quietly mingling with the unharming foe? SALONE, MIRIAM.

Where are they? where the traitors meet, where all Sister! my Salone! Sister!

The foes of Simon and Jerusalem, Why art thou flying with that frantic mien,

In th' everlasting fire! I slew them, John, Thy veil cast back and streaming with thine hair? Thou saw'st my red hand glorious with their blood. Oh, harbinger of misery! I read

JOHN. A sad disastrous story in thy face;

False traitors! in their very treachery false ! 'T is o'er, and God hath given the city of David

They would betray without their lord-In truth, Unto the stranger.

Treason, like empire, brooks not rivalry.

Oh! not yet; our wall,

Now, by the bones of Abraham our father,
Our last, our strongest wall, is still unshaken,

I do accuse thee here, false John of Galilee! Though the fierce engines with their brazen heads

Or, if the title please thee, John the Tyrant!
Strike at it sternly and incessantly

Here, in our arm'd, embattled Sanhedrim,
Thou art our fall's prime cause, and fatal origin!

From thee, as from a foul and poisonous fount,
Then God preserve the lost! and oh, our father!

Pour the black waters of calamity

O'er Judah's land! God hates thee, man of Belial! All is not lost! for Amariah stands

And the destroying bolts that fall on thee Amid the rushing sheets of molten fire,

From the insulted heavens, blast all around thee Even like an Angel in the flaming centre

With spacious and unsparing desolation, of the sun's noontide orb

Hear me, ye men of Israel! do ye wonder
Hark! hark !—who comes ? That all your baffled valour hath recoild

From the fierce Gentile onset ? that your walls Back-back-I say, by—

Are prostrate, and your last hath scarce repellid MIRIAM.

But now the flush'd invader? 'Tis from this

"Tis my father's voice! That the Holy City will not be defended It sounds in wrath, perhaps in blasphemy;

By womanish men, and loose adulterers. Yet 't is my living father's voice-He's here. Hear me, I say, this son of Gischala,










This lustful tyrant, hath he not defiled

That grossly do defraud the eternal soul Your daughters, in the open face of day

Of its immortal heritage, and doom it Done deeds of shame, which midnight hath no dark. To rot for ever with its kindred clay

In the grave's deep unbroken prison-house? So deep as to conceal? It is his pride

Yea, they dispeople with their infidel creed T'offend high heaven with crimes before unknown- Heaven of its holy Angels; laugh to scorn Hath he not mock'd the austere and solemn fasts, That secret band of ministering Spirils; And sabbaths of our Law, by revellings

That therefore, in their indignation, stand And most heaven-tainting wantonness? Yea, more, Aloof, and gaze upon our gathering ruin Hath he not made God's festivals a false

With a contemptuous and pitiless scorn.
And fraudful pretext for his deeds of guilt?

They that were wont to range around our towers
Yea, on the day of the Unleavened Bread, Their sunlight-wing'd battalia, and to war
Even in the garb and with the speech of worship, Upon our part with adamantine arms.
Went he not up into the very Temple ? (14)
And there before the Veil, even in the presence Oh! impotent and miserable arguer!
Of th' Holy of Holies, did he not break forth Will he that values not the stake as boldly
With armed and infuriate violence ?

Confront the peril as the man that feels
Then did the pavement, which was never red His all upon the hazard ? Men of Galilee,
But with the guiltless blood of sacrifice,

The cup of Life hath sparkled to our lips, Reek with the indelible and thrice-foulest stain And we have drain'd its tide of love and joy, Of human carnage. Yea, with impious steel Till our veins almost burst with o'erwrought rapture; He slew the brethren that were kneeling with him And well we know, that generous cup, once dash'd, At the same altar, uttering the same prayers.

Shall never mantle more to the cold lips (Speak, Eleazar, was 't not so ?-thou darest not Of the earth-bound dead. And therefore do we fight Affirm, nor canst deny thine own betrayal.)

For life as for a mistress, that being lost,
And since that cursed hour of guilty triumph

Is lost for ever. To be what we are
There hath he held the palace of his lusts, (15) Is all we hope or pray for ; think ye, then,
Turning God's Temple to a grove of Belial: That we shall tamely yield the contest up,
Even till men wonder that the pillars start not And calmly acquiesce in our extinction?
From their fix'd sockets; that the offended roof We know that there stands yawning at our feet
Fall not at once, and crush in his own shame The gulf, where dark Annihilation dwells
The blasphemous invader. Yea, not yet,

With Solitude, her sister; and we fix
I have not fathom'd yet his depth of sin.

Our steadfast footing on the perilous verge,
His common banquet is the Bread of Offering, And grapple to the last with the fierce foe
The vessels of the altar are the cups

That seeks to plunge us down; and where's the
From which he drains his riotous drunkenness.

The incense, that was wont to rise to heaven That can subdue despair ?- -For the other charge,
Pure as an infant's breath, now foully stagnates

We look not, Simon, to the sky, nor pray
Within the pestilent haunts of his lasciviousness. For sightless and impalpable messengers
Can these things be, and yet our favour'd arms To spare us the proud peril of the war:
Be clad with victory? Can the Lord of Israel Ourselves are our own Angels! we implore not
For us, the scanty remnant of his worshippers, Or supernatural or spiritual aid ;
Neglect to vindicate his tainted shrine,

We have our own good arms, that God hath given us,
His sanctuary profaned, his outraged Laws ? And valiant hearts to wield those mighty arms.

Methinks, if Simon had but fought to-day

Oh heavens! oh heavens, ye hear it, and endure it!
As valiantly as Simon speaks, the foe

Outwearied by the all-frequent blasphemy
Had never seen to-morrow's onset-

To an indignant patience: and the just

Still, still must suffer the enforced alliance

of men whose fellowship is death and ruin.
Yet I demand your audience-


Why, thou acknowledged Prince of Murderers!
Hear him!

Captain Assassin! Lord and Chief of Massacre !
The righteous Simon !

That pourest blood like water, yet dost deem

That thou canst wash the foul and scarlet stain
Men of Israel!

From thy polluted soul, as easily
Why stand ye thus in wonder? where the root As from thy dainty ever-dabbling hands,
Is hollow, can the tree be sound ? Man's deeds Thou wouldst appease with rite and ordinance,
Are as man's doctrines ; and who hopes for aught And festival, and slavish ceremony,
But wantonness and foul iniquity

And prayers that weary even the stonesthou kneel'ston,
From that blaspheming and heretical sect,

The God whose image hourly thou effacest
The serpent spawn of Sadoc, that corrupt

With mangling and remorseless steel! "Tis well Tha Law of Moses and disdain the Prophets ? That graves are silent, and that dead men's souls 3C






Assert not the proud privilege thou wouldst give them; “ Lord of Mercies, be it done,
For if they did, Heaven's vaults would ring so loudly Through Jesus Christ, thine only Son."
With imprecations 'gainst the righteous Simon, Here, then, assembled Lords of Israel,
That they would pluck by force a plague upon us, Whoever be the victim, I demand her ;

To which the Roman, and the wasting famine, Your wisdom must detect, your justice wreak | Were soft and healing mercies.

Fit punishment upon the accursed sacrilege.

SALONE (apart.)
Liar and slave!

Miriam! Miriam! Ha!-She's fled.-Guilt! Guilt There is no rich libation to the All-Just

Prophetic of the damning accusation So welcome as the blood of renegades

It doth deserve! Apostate! 't were a sin
And traitors-

Against Jerusalera and Heaven to spare thee!
MIRIAM (apart.)

Oh! I dare not listen longer! I do commend you, brethren, for your silence!
The big drops stand upon his brow; his voice I see the abhorrence labouring in your hearts,
Is faint and fails, and there's no food at home. Too deep and too infuriate for words.
The night is dark-I'll go once more, or perish.

[Departs unperceived. Now, if it were my child, my Sarah's child,

The child that she died blessing, I'd not sleep What, John of Galilee! because my voice

Till the stones crush her. Yea, thus, thus I'd grasp. Is hoarse with speaking of thy crimes, dost scoff, And hurl destruction on her guilty head. And wag thy head at me, and answer laughter? Here, John, I pledge mine hand to thee, till vengeance Now, if thy veins run noi pure gall, I'll broach Seize on the false and insolent blasphemer. Their tide, and prove if all my creed be false; (SALONE, half unveiled, rushing forward, stops irreIf traitors' reeking blood smell not to heaven

solutely.) Like a sweet sacrifice.

Their eyes oppress me—my heart chokes my voice !

And my lips cling together-Oh! my mother,
Why, ay! the victim

Upon thy death-bed didst thou not beseech us
Is bound to th' horns of th' altar! Strike, I say, To love each other!
He waits thee-Strike!


Veiled maid, what art thou !
Hold, Chiefs of Israel!
Just Simon! valiant John! once more I dare

OfT! off! the blood of Abraham swells within meTo cast myself between

As I cast down my veil, I cast away
the High-Priest,

All fear, all tenderness, all fond remorse.
Who by his holy office calls on you
To throw aside your trivial private wrongs,

It is too good a death for one so guilty And vindicate offence more rank and monstrous,

To perish for JerusalemAvenge your God! and then avenge yourselves !

[She stands unveiled.

SIMON. The Temple is polluted—Israel's Lord

Salone! Mock'd in his presence. Prayers even thence have

HIGH-PRIEST. risen, Prayers from the jealous holy Sanctuary,

The admired daughter of the noble Simon ! Even to the Crucified Man our fathers slew.


Israel! Israel!
The Crucified! the Man of Nazareth !

Who is this, that speaks
This morn, as wont, our maidens had gone up

With such a thrilling accent of command ?
To chant their suppliant hymn; and they had raised
The song that Israel on the Red Sea shore

Israel! Israel !
Took up triumphant; and they closed the strain,

JEWS That, like th’Egyptian and his car-borne host,

Back! give place! the Prophet! The billows of Heaven's wrath might overwhelm

ABIRAM (the false prophet.) The Gentile foe, and so preserve Jerusalem;

Israel! Israel !
When at the close and fall a single voice

Linger'd upon the note, with, “ Be it done
Through Jesus Christ, thine only Son.”
My spirit shrank within me; horror-struck,

Ay! peace, I say!
I listen'd; all was silence! Then again

The wounds are bound; the blood is stanch'd! and I look J upon the veiled damsels, all

With one accord took up the gwelling strain Is turn'd to love! and rancorous jealousy
To him that triumph'd gloriously. I turn'd

To kindred concord! and the clashing swords
To the Ark and Mercy Seat, and then again To bridal sounds! the fury of the feud
I heard that single, soft, melodious voice,

To revel and the jocund nuptial feast.

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• Peace!










of Israel's chiefs, portends some glorious fruit What means Abiram?

To ripen in the deep futurity.

It is from on High.

Simon, what meanest thou ?
Brave Amariah, son of John! Salone,
Daughter of Simon! thus I join their hands;

The Hope of Israel!
And thus I bless the wedded and the beautiful! Shall it not dawn from darkness? Oh! bogot
And thus I bind the Captains of Jerusalem

In Judah's hour of peril, and conceived In the strong bonds of unity and peace.

In her extreme of agony, what birth

So meet and fitting for the great Discomfiter? And where is now the wine for the bridegroom's rosy cup?(16)

A light falls on me. And the tabret and the harp for the chamber of the bride?

Prophet! what shall dye Lo! bright as burnish'd gold the lamps are sparkling up. The robe of purple with so bright a grain And the odours of the incense are breathing far and As Roman blood ? Before our gates are met wide;

The lords of empire, and our walls may laugh And the maidens' feet are glancing in the virgins' Their siege to scorn, even till the Branch be grown wedding train;

That's not yet planted— Yea, the wrested sceptre And the sad streets of Salem are alive with joy again! Of earth, the sole dominion—Back, Abiram,

To thy prophetic cave-kneel, pray, fast, weep;

And thou shalt bless us with far nobler tidings, Long live Salone! Long live Amariah!

And we will kiss thy feet, thou Harbinger

Of Judah's gloryAm I awake ?-how came I hero unveil'd

Now lead on the Bridal. Among the bold and glaring eyes of men ?

Blow trumpets! shout, exulting Israel!

Shout Amariah! shout again Salone! Long live Salone! Long live Amariah!

Shout louder yet, the Bridegroom and the Bride!

Rejoice, O Zion, now on all thy hills;
He speaks from Heaven--accept'st thou, John of City of David, through thy streets rejoice!

Heaven's terms of peace !

Fountain of Siloe-Night-An approaching Storm.
From earth or heaven, I care not-

MIRIAM. What says my boy?

He is not here! and yet he might have known

That the cold gloom of the tempestuous skies
Oh! rather let me ask,

Could never change a faithful heart like mine.
What says the maid? Oh! raven-hair'd Salone, He might have known me not a maid to love
Why dost thou crowd thy jealous veil around thee? Under the melting moonlight, and soft stars,
Look on me freely; beauteous in thy freedom; And to fall off in darkness and in storm.
As when this morn I saw thee, on our walls, Ah! seal'd for ever be my slanderous lips!
Thy hair cast back, and bare thy marble brow Alas! it is the bitterest pang of misery
To the bright wooing of the enamour'd sun: That it will force from us unworthy doubts
They were my banner, Beauty, those dark locks; Of the most tried and true. Oh, Javan, Javan!
And in the battle 't was my pride, my strength, It was but now that with presumptuous heart
To think that eyes like thine were gazing on me. I did repine against the all-gracious heavens,

That wrapt me round in charitable darkness,
Oh no, thou saw'st me not!-Oh, Amariah! Because my erring feet had well-nigh miss'd
What Prophets speak must be fulfill'd. "T were vain Their known familiar path.
T" oppose at once the will of Heaven-and thee.

Now, if there be enough of generous food,

What's there? I see A cup of wine in all the wasted city,

A white and spirit-like gleaming-It must be !
We'll have a jocund revel.

I see her not, yet feel that it is Miriam,

By the indistinct and dimly visible grace

Prophet Abiram, That haunts her motions; by her tread, that falls I have a question for thy secret ear.

Trembling and soft like moonlight on the earth. Thou man, whose eyes are purged from earthly film, What dost thou here? now—now? where every mo. Seest thou no further down the tide of time ?

ment Beyond this bridal nothing ?-Answer me !

The soldiers prowl, and meeting sentinels For it should seem this designated union

Challenge each other? I have watch'd for thee Of two so noble, this conspiring blood

As prisoners for the hour of their deliverance;





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