THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.
HE Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen;
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,
That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown.
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breath'd in the face of the foe as he pass'd;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved, and forever grew still!
And there lay the steed with his nostrils all wide,
But through them there roll'd not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.
And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail;
And the tents were all silent, the banners alone,
The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
RE ye forever to your skies departed?
Oh! will visit this dim world no more? ye
Ye, whose bright wings a solemn splendor darted
Through Eden's fresh and flowering shades of yore?
Now are the fountains dried on that sweet spot,
And ye-our faded earth beholds you not!
Yet, by your shining eyes not all forsaken,
Man wander'd from his Paradise away;
Ye, from forgetfulness his heart to waken,
Came down, high guests! in many a later day,
And with the Patriarchs, under vine or oak,
'Midst noontide calm or hush of evening, spoke.
From you, the veil of midnight darkness rending,
Came the rich mysteries to the Sleeper's eye,
That saw your hosts ascending and descending
On those bright steps between the earth and sky;
Trembling he woke, and bow'd o'er glory's trace,
And worship'd, awe-struck, in that fearful place.
By Chebar's brook ye pass'd, such radiance wearing
As mortal vision might but ill endure;
Along the stream the living chariot bearing,
With its high crystal arch, intensely pure!
And the dread rushing of your wings that hour,
Was like the noise of waters in their power.
But in the Olive mount, by night appearing,
'Midst the dim leaves, your holiest work was done!
Whose was the voice that came divinely cheering,
Fraught with the breath of God, to aid his Son?—
Haply of those that, on the moon-lit plains,
Wafted good tidings unto Syrian swains.
Yet one more task was yours! your heavenly dwelling
Ye left, and by th' unseal'd sepulchral stone,
In glorious raiment, sat; the weepers telling,
That He they sought had triumph'd, and was gone!
Now have ye left us for the brighter shore,
Your presence lights the lonely groves no more.
But may ye not, unseen, around us hover,
With gentle promptings and sweet influence yet, Though the fresh glory of those days be over,
When, 'midst the palm-trees, man your footsteps met? Are ye not near when faith and hope rise high, When love, by strength, o'ermasters agony?
Are ye not near when sorrow, unrepining,
Yields up life's treasures unto Him who gave? When martyrs, all things for His sake resigning, Lead on the march of death, serenely brave? Dreams!--but a deeper thought our souls may fillOne, one is near--a spirit holier still!
"SUMMER EVENING ON THE SEINE"-BY EDGAR CAMERON,
And close sealed lips that never again,
Will make the way of life so plain
To faltering feet; nor will I prove
The sweetness of all their words of love.
What wonder if anguish fills my breast,
That sadden my days and break my rest!
What wonder if life and its pleasures seem
But a fitful glow, and a fading dream!—
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