Thy flag on high; and glory in thy strength.
But do thou know, the season yet shall come,
When from its base thine adamantine throne
Shall tumble; when thine arm shall cease to strike,
Thy voice forget its petrifying power;

When saints shall shout, and Time shall be no more. Yea he doth come-the mighty champion comes, Whose potent spear shall give thee thy death-wound, Shall crush the conqueror of conquerors,

And desolate stern desolation's lord.

Lo! where he cometh! the Messiah comes!
The King! the Comforter! the Christ!-He comes
To burst the bonds of death, and overturn
The power of Time.-Hark! the trumpet's blast
Rings o'er the heavens !-They rise, the myriads rise-
Even from their graves they spring, and burst the chains
Of torpor. He has ransomed them,

Forgotten generations live again,

* *

Assume the bodily shapes they owned of old,
Beyond the flood:-the righteous of their times
Embrace and weep, they weep the tears of joy.
The sainted mother wakes, and, in her lap,
Clasps her dear babe, the partner of her grave,
And heritor with her of heaven,-a flower
Washed by the blood of Jesus from the stain
Of native guilt, even in its early bud.
And hark! those strains, how solemnly serene
They fall, as from the skies-at distance fall-
Again more loud; the hallelujahs swell;
The newly-risen catch the joyful sound;

They glow, they burn: and now, with one accord,
Bursts forth sublime from every mouth the song
Of praise to God on high, and to the Lamb

Who bled for mortals.

Yet there is peace for man.-Yea, there is peace,
Even in this noisy, this unsettled scene;

When from the crowd, and from the city far,
Haply he may be set (in his late walk

O'ertaken with deep thought) beneath the bows
Of honeysuckle, when the sun is gone,
And with fixed eye, and wistful, he surveys
The solemn shadows of the heavens sail,

And thinks the season yet shall come, when Time
Will waft him to repose, to deep repose,
Far from the unquietness of life-from noise
And tumult far-beyond the flying clouds,
Beyond the stars, and all this passing scene,

Where change shall cease, and Time shall be no more.

207

THE CHRISTIAD.

A DIVINE POEM.

This was the work which the author had most at heart. His riper judg ment would probably have perceived that the subject was ill chosen. What is said so well in the Censura Literaria of all scriptural subjects for narrative poetry, applies peculiarly to this. Anything taken from it leaves the story imperfect; anything added to it disgusts, and almost shocks us as impious. As Omar said of the Alexandrian Library, we may say of such writings, if they contain only what is in the Scriptures they are superfluous; if what is not in them they are false."-It may be added, that the mixture of mythology makes truth itself appear fabulous.

There is great power in the execution of this fragment.-In editing these remains, I have, with that decorum which it is to be wished all editors would observe, abstained from informing the reader what he is to admire and what he is not; but I cannot refrain from saying, that the last two stanzas greatly affected me, when I discovered them written on the leaf of a different book, and apparently long after the first canto; and greatly shall I be mistaken if they do not affect the reader also.

BOOK I.

I.

I SING the CROSS!-Ye white-robed angel choirs,
Who know the chords of harmony to sweep;
Ye who o'er holy David's varying wires,

Were wont of old your hovering watch to keep,
Oh, now descend! and with your harpings deep,
Pouring sublime the full symphonious stream

Of music, such as soothes the saint's last sleep, Awake my slumbering spirit from its dream, And teach me how to exalt the high mysterious theme.

II.

Mourn! Salem, mourn! low lies thine humbled state,
Thy glittering fanes are levelled with the ground!
Fallen is thy pride!-Thine halls are desolate!
Where erst was heard the timbrel's sprightly sound,
And frolic pleasures tripped the nightly round,
There breeds the wild fox lonely,-and aghast

Stands the mute pilgrim at the void profound,
Unbroke by noise, save when the hurrying blast
Sighs, like a spirit, deep along the cheerless waste.

III.

It is for this, proud Solyma! thy towers
Lie crumbling in the dust; for this forlorn
Thy genius wails along thy desert bowers,
While stern destruction laughs, as if in scorn,
That thou didst dare insult God's eldest-born;
And, with most bitter persecuting ire,

Pursued his footsteps till the last day-dawn
Rose on his fortunes-and thou saw'st the fire
That came to light the world in one great flash expire.

IV.

Oh! for a pencil dipt in living light,
To paint the agonies that Jesus bore!

Oh! for the long-lost harp of Jesse's might,

To hymn the Saviour's praise from shore to shore;
While seraph hosts the lofty pæan pour,

And heaven enraptured lists the loud acclaim!
May a frail mortal dare the theme explore?
May he to human ears his weak song frame?

Oh! may he dare to sing Messiah's glorious name?

V.

Spirits of pity! mild Crusaders come!

Buoyant on clouds around your minstrel float;
And give him eloquence who else were dumb,
And raise to feeling and to fire his note!
And thou, Urania! who dost still devote
Thy nights and days to God's eternal shrine,
Whose mild eyes 'lumined what Isaiah wrote,
Throw o'er thy bard that solemn stole of thine,
And clothe him for the fight with energy divine.

VI.

When from the temple's lofty summit prone,
Satan o'ercome, fell down; and 'thronéd there,
The Son of God confest, in splendor shone:
Swift as the glancing sunbeam cuts the air,
Mad with defeat, and yelling his despair,

Fled the stern king of Hell-and with the glare Of gliding meteors, ominous and red,

Shot athwart the clouds that gathered round his head

VII.

Right o'er the Euxine, and that gulf which late
The rude Massagetæ adored-he bent

His northering course,-while round, in dusky state,
The assembled fiends their summoned troops aug-

ment.

Clothed in dark mists, upon their way they went,
While as they passed to regions more severe,

The Lapland sorcerer swelled, with loud lament, The solitary gale, and, filled with fear,

The howling dogs bespoke unholy spirits near.