Of bulk more huge, and borne on broader vans,
The eagle of the sea from Atlas soars,
Or Teneriffe's hoar peak, and stretches far
Above the Atlantic wave, contemning distance.
The watchful helmsman from the stern descries,
And hails her course, and many an eye is raised.
Loftier she flies than hundred times mast-height:
Onward she floats, then plunges from her soar
Down to the ship, as if she aim'd to perch
Upon the mainmast pinnacle; but up again
She mounts Alp high, and, with her lower'd head
Suspended, eyes the bulging sails, disdains
Their tardy course, outflies the hurrying rack,
And, disappearing, mingles with the clouds.
Six days the heavenly host, in circle vast,
Like that untouching cincture which enzones
The globe of Saturn, compass'd wide this orb,
And with the forming mass floated along,
In rapid course, through yet untravell'd space,
Beholding God's stupendous power,—a world
Bursting from Chaos at the omnific will,
And perfect ere the sixth day's evening star
On Paradise arose. Blessed that eve!
The Sabbath's harbinger, when, all complete,
In freshest beauty from Jehovah's hand,
Creation bloom'd; when Eden's twilight face
Smiled, like a sleeping babe: the voice divine
A holy calm breathed o'er the goodly work:
Mildly the sun, upon the loftiest trees,
Shed mellowly a sloping beam. Peace reign'd,
And love, and gratitude: the human pair
Their orisons pour'd forth: love, concord, reign'd;
The falcon, perch'd upon the blooming bough
With Philomela, listen'd to her lay;
Among the antler'd herd the tiger couch'd,
Harmless; the lion's mane no terror spread
Among the careless ruminating flock.
Silence was o'er the deep; the noiseless surge,
The last subsiding wave, of that dread tumult
Which raged, when Ocean, at the mute command,
Rush'd furiously into his new-cleft bed,
Was gently rippling on the pebbled shore;
While, on the swell, the sea-bird, with her head
Wing-veil'd, slept tranquilly. The host of heaven, 30
Entranced in new delight, speechless adored;
Nor stopp'd their fleet career, nor changed their form
Encircular, till on that hemisphere,
In which the blissful garden sweet exhaled
Its incense, odorous clouds, the Sabbath dawn
Arose; then wide the flying circle oped,
And soar'd, in semblance of a mighty rainbow:
Silent ascend the choirs of Seraphim ;
No harp resounds, mute is each voice; the burst
Of joy and praise reluctant they repress,
For love and concord all things so attuned
To harmony, that Earth must have received
The grand vibration, and to the centre shook :
But soon as to the starry altitudes
They reach'd, then what a storm of sound, tremendous, Swell'd through the realms of space! The morning stars Together sang, and all the sons of God
Shouted for joy! Loud was the peal; so loud
As would have quite o'erwhelm'd the human sense :
But to the Earth it came a gentle strain,
Like softest fall breathed from Æolian lute,
When 'mid the chords the evening gale expires.
Day of the Lord! creation's hallow'd close!
Day of the Lord! (prophetical they sang,)
Benignant mitigation of that doom
Which must, ere long, consign the fallen race,
Dwellers in yonder star, to toil and woe!
SLOW glides the Nile: amid the margin flags,
Closed in a bulrush ark, the babe is left,
Left by a mother's hand. His sister waits
Far off; and pale, 'tween hope and fear, beholds
The royal maid, surrounded by her train,
Approach the river bank, approach the spot
Where sleeps the innocent; she sees them stoop
With meeting plumes; the rushy lid is oped,
And wakes the infant, smiling in his tears,
As when along a little mountain lake,
The summer south-wind breathes with gentle sigh,
And parts the reeds, unveiling, as they bend,
A water-lily floating on the wave.
FROM Conquest Jephtha came, with faltering step
And troubled eye: his home appears in view;
He trembles at the sight. Sad he forebodes,
His vow will meet a victim in his child:
For well he knows, that, from her earliest years,
She still was first to meet his homeward steps:
Well he remembers how, with tottering gait,
She ran, and clasp'd his knees, and lisp'd, and look'd
Her joy; and how, when garlanding with flowers
His helm, fearful, her infant hand would shrink
Back from the lion couch'd beneath the crest.
What sound is that, which, from the palm-tree grove,
Floats now with choral swell, now fainter falls
Upon the ear? It is, it is the song
He loved to hear, a song of thanks and praise,
Sung by the patriarch for his ransomed son.
Hope from the omen springs: oh, blessed hope!
It may not be her voice!
not be her voice! Fain would he think "Twas not his daughter's voice, that still approached, Blent with the timbrel's note. Forth from the grove 20 She foremost glides of all the minstrel band: Moveless he stands; then grasps his hilt, still red With hostile gore, but, shuddering, quits the hold; And clasps, in agony, his hands, and cries,
'Alas, my daughter! thou hast brought me low.'The timbrel at her rooted feet resounds.
DEEP was the furrow in the royal brow,
When David's hand, lightly as vernal gales
Rippling the brook of Kedron, skimm❜d the lyre:
He sung of Jacob's youngest born, the child
Of his old age, sold to the Ishmaelite;
His exaltation to the second power
In Pharaoh's realm; his brethren thither sent
Suppliant they stood before his face, well known,
Unknowing, till Joseph fell upon the neck
Of Benjamin, his mother's son, and wept.
Unconsciously the warlike shepherd paused;
But when he saw, down the yet-quivering string,
The tear-drop trembling glide, abash'd, he check'd,
Indignant at himself, the bursting flood,
And, with a sweep impetuous, struck the chords;
From side to side his hands transversely glance,
Like lightning thwart a stormy sea; his voice
Arises 'mid the clang, and straightway calms
The harmonious tempest to a solemn swell,
Majestical, triumphant; for he sings
Of Arad's mighty host by Israel's arm
Subdued; of Israel through the desert led
He sings; of him who was their leader, call'd
By God himself from keeping Jethro's flock,
To be a ruler o'er the chosen race.
Kindles the eye of Saul; his arm is poised;
Harmless the javelin quivers in the wall.
ELIJAH FED BY RAVENS.
SORE was the famine throughout all the bounds
Of Israel, when Elijah, by command
Of God, journey'd to Cherith's failing brook.
No rain-drop falls; no dew-fraught cloud, at morn
Or closing eve, creeps slowly up the vale;
The withering herbage dies; among the palms,
The shrivell'd leaves send to the summer gale
An autumn rustle; no sweet songster's lay
Is warbled from the branches; scarce is heard
The rill's faint brawl. The prophet looks around,
And trusts in God, and lays his silver'd head
Upon the flowerless bank; serene he sleeps,
Nor wakes till dawning: then, with hands enclasp'd,
And heavenward face, and eyelids closed, he prays
To Him who manna on the desert shower'd,
To Him who from the rock made fountains gush:
Entranced the man of God remains; till, roused
By sound of wheeling wings, with grateful heart,
He sees the ravens fearless by his side
Alight, and leave the heaven-provided food.
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