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I found the thing I sought--and that was thee ;
And then I lost my being, all to be
Absorb'd in thine-the world was past away-
Thou didst annihilate the earth to me!

VII. I loved all solitude--but little thought To spend I know not what of life, remote From all cominunion with existence, save The maniac and his tyraut: had I been Their fellow, many years cre this had seen My mind like theirs corrupted to its grave ; But who hath seen me writhe, or heard me rave? Percbauce in such a cell we suffer more Than the wreck'd sailor on his desert shore; The world is all before him--mine is here, Scarce twice the space they must accord my bier. What though he perish, he may lift his eye And with a dying glance upbraid the sky?--I will not raise my own in such reproof, Although I is clouded by my dungeon roof.

VIII. Yet do I feel at times my mind decline, But with a scose of its decay:--I see L’owonted lights alony my prison shine, And a strange demon, who is vexing me With pilfering pranks and petty pains, below The feeling of the healthful and the free; But much to one, who long hath sufferd so, Sickness of heart, and narrowness of place, And all that may be borne, or cau debase. I thought mine coemies had been but man, But spirits may be leagued with them--all earila Abandons-leaven forgets me;- in the dearılı Of such defence the powers of evil can, I may be, tempi me further, and prevail Against the outworn creature they assail. Why in this furnace is my spirit proved Like steel in tempering fire! because I loved ! Because I loved what not to love, and see, Was more or less than mortal, and than me.

IX. I once was quick in feeling-that is o'er ;--My scars are callous, or I should have dashid My brain against these bars as the sun tlash'd In mockery through them ;-if I bear and bore The much I have recounted, and the more Which liath no words, 't is that I would not die And sanction with self-slaughter the dull lie Which snared me here, and with the brand of shame Stainp madness deep into my memory, And woo compassion to a blighted naine, Sealing the sentence which


foes proclaim.
No-it shall be immortal!-and I make
A future temple of my present cell,
Which nations yet shall visit for


sake. While thou Ferrarı! when no longer dwell The ducal chiefs within thee, shalt fall down, Aud crumbling piece-mcal view thy hearthless balls, A poet's wreath shall be thine only crown, A poet's dungeon thy most far renown, While strangers wonder o'er thy unpeopled walls' And thou, Leonora! thou- who wert ashamed That such as I could love-who blush a to lear To less than inonarchis that thou couldst be deur, Go! tell thy brother that iny heart, untamed By grief, years, weariness-and it may be A taint of that he would impute to me, From long infection of a den like this, Where the mind rots congenial with the abyss, Adores thee sull;-and add-that when the towers And buttlements which guard his joyous hours Of banquet, dance, and revel, are forgol, Or left untended in a dull repose, This-this shall be a consecrated spot! But thou—when all that birth and beauty throws Of magic round thiec is excinci-shait have One if the laure whichi o'ershades my grave. No power in death can tear our names apart, As none in life could rend thee from my heart. Yes, Leonora ! it shall be our fate To be entwined for ever-but too late!

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Vebrew Melodies.


The subsequent poems were written at the request of my friend, the Hon. D. Kinnaird, for a Selection of Hebrew Melodies, and have been publislied, with the music, arranged by Mr BrauAM and Mr NatuN.

And all that is best of dark and briglas

Meet in her aspect and her eyes : Thus mellowd to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray

the less, Had half impair'd the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express

low dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the lines that flow,

But tell of days in goodness speni,
A nind at peace with all below,

A heari wiose love is innocent!



She walks in beauty, like the night

Of coudless climes and starry skies,

But we must wander witheringly,

In other lands to die;
And where our fathers' ashes be,

Our own may never lie:
Our temple hath not left a stone,
And Mockery sits on Salem's throne.

Tue harp the monarch minstrel swept,

The king of men, the loved of Heaven,
Which Music hallow'd while she wept

O'er tones her heart of hearts had given.

Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven!
It softend men of iron mould,
li gave them virtues not their

No ear so dull, no soul so cold,

That felt not, fired not to the tone,

Till David's lyre grew mightier than bis throne!
It told the triumphs of our king,

It wafted glory to our God;
It made our gladden'd valleys ring,

The cedars bow, the mountains nod;

Jus sound aspired to Heaven and there abode!
Since then, though heard on earth no more,

Devotion and her daughter Love
Still bid the bursting spirit soar

To sounds that seem as from above,
In dreams that day's broad light can not remove.

OH! WEEP FOR THOSE. On! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream, Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream; Weep for the barp of Judah's broken shell Mourn-where their God hath dwelt the godless dwell! And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet? And when shall Zion's songs again seem sweet? And Judah's melody once more rejoice The hearts that leap'd before its heavenly voice? Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast, Ilow shall

ye flee away and be at rest! The wild-dove hath ber pesi, the fox his cave, Mankind their country-Israel but the grave!

IF THAT HIGH WORLD. Is that high world, which lies beyond

Our own, surviving love endears; If there the cherish d heart be fond,

The eye the same, except in tearsHow welcome those untrodden spheres!

How sweet this very hour to die! To soar from earth, and find all fears

Lost in thy light-Eternity! It must be so: 't is not for self

That we so tremble on the brink; And striving to o'erleap the gulf,

Yet cling to being's severing link. Oh! in that future let us think

To hold each heart the heart that shares, With them the immortal waters drink,

And soul in soul grow deathless theirs !

ON JORDAN'S BANKS. On Jordan's banks the Arabs' camels stray, On Sion's hill the False One's votaries pray, The Baal-adorer bows on Sinai's steepYet there--even there-Oh God! thy thunders sleep : There-where thy finger scorch'd the tablet stone ! There-where thy shadow to thy people shone! Thy glory shrouded in its garb of fire : Thyself -none living see and not expire! Oh! in the lightning let thy glance appear! Sweep from his shiver'd hand the oppressor's spear : How long by tyrants shall thy land be trod? How long thy temple worshipless, Oh God!

The wild gazelle on Judal's hills

Exulting yet may bound,
And drink from all the living rills

That gush on holy ground;
Its airy step and glorious eye

May glance in tameless transport by :A step as fleet, an eye more bright,

Hath Judah witness'd there ; And o'er her scenes of lost delight

Inhabitants more fair.
The cedars wave on Lebanon,
But Judah's slatelier maids are gone!
More blest each palm that shades those plains

Than Israel's scatterd race;
For, taking root, it there remains

In solitary grace:
It cannot quit its place of birth,
It will not live in other earth.

JEPHTHA'S DAUGHTER. SINCE our country, our God-Oh, my sire! Demand that thy daughter expire; Since thy triumph was bought by thy vowStrike the bosom that's bared for thce now! And the voice of my mourning is o'er, And the mountains bebold me no more : If the hand that I love lay me low, There cannot be pain in the blow! And of this, oh, my father! be sureThat the blood of thy child is as pure As the blessing I beg ere it flow, And the last thought that soothes me below. Though the virgins of Salem lament, Be the judge and the hero unbent! I have won the great battle for thee, And my father and country are free! When this blood of thy giving hath gushd, When the voice that thou lovest is hushid, Let my memory still be thy pride, And forget not I smiled as I died!

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The triumplis of her chosen sop,

The slaughters of his sword! The deeds he did, the fields he won,

The freedom he restored!


On! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom,
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;

But on thy turf shall roses rear

Their leaves, the earliest of the year;
And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom :
And oft by you blue gushing stream

Shall sorrow leau her drooping head,
And feed deep thought with many a dream;

And lingering pause, and lightly tread,

Foud wretcli! as if hier step disturb'd the dead ! Away! we know that tears are vain,

That death nor hiceds nor hears distress :
Will this unteach us to complain?

Or make one mourner weep the less ?
And thou---who tell'st me to forget,
Thy looks are wan, ihine eyes are wel.

Though thou art fall'n, while we are free

Thou shall not taste of death! The

generous blood that flow'd from thee Disduond to sink beneith : Within our veins its currents be,

Thy spirit on our breath :

Thy name, our charging hosts along.

Shall be the battle-word! Thy fall, the theme of cloral song

From virgin voices pour'd! To weep would do thy glory wrong:

Thou shalt not be deplored.


WARRIORS aud cliefs! should the shaft or the sword
Pierce me in leading the host of the Lord,
Vecd not the corse, though a king's, in your path
Bury your steel in the bosoms of Gath!

MY SOUL IS DARK. My soul is dark. -Oh! quickly string

The barp I yet csn brook to hear; And let thy gentle lingers thing

Jis melio; murmurs per mine ear. If in this heart a hope be dear,

That sound shall curm it forth again; If in these eyes there lurk a tear,

'T will flow, and cease to burn my brain :

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But bid the strain be wild and deep,

Nor let thy notes of joy be first: I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,

Or else this beavy heart will burst; For it hath been by sorrow purst,

And ached in sleepless silenre long; And now 't is doom'd to know the worst,

And break at once-or yield to song.



I saw thee weep-the big bright tear

Came o'er that eye of blue;
And then methought it did appear

A violei dropping dew :
I saw thce sinile-the sappliire's blaze

Beside thee ceased to shine, li could not match the living rays

That filld that glance of thine. As clouds from yonder sun receive

A deep and mellow dye, Which scarce the sbade of coming eve

Cau banish from the sky,
Those smiles unto the moodicit mind

Their owo pure joy import;
Their sunshine learn a glow behind

That lightens o'er the heart.

Tror whose spell can raise the dead,

Bid the prophet's form appear. « Samuel, raise thy buried head!

kin;, behold the plantom seer!» Cartlı ywn'd; he stood the centre of a cloud: Light changed in hue, retiring from his shroud Death stood all glassy in his fixed eye ; llis land was withers and lis veins were dry; lis foot, in bony wbiteness, glitter'd there, Shrunken and sinewless, and ghasily bare : From lips that moved not and unbreathing frame, Like cavernd winds, the hollow accents came. Saul saw, and fell to earth, as fills the oak, At once, and blasted by the thunder-stroke.

« Why is my clerp disquieted ?
Who is he that calls the dead?
Is it thou, oli king? Behold,
Bloodlesire these limbs, and cold.
Suhare uiue; ind such shall be
Thine, 10-morrow, which with me
Ere the coming alay is done,
Such shalt thou be, such thy son.
Fare thee well, but for a day;
Then we uiis our mouldering clay,
Thou, the race, lie pale and low,
Pierced liv shufes of many a bow


Tuy days are done, ily fume begun;

Thy country s strains record

And the falchion by thy side
To thy heart thy band shall guide:
Crownless, breathless, headless fall,
Son and sire, the house of Saul!»

An age shall fleet like earthly year ;

Its years as moments shall endure. Away, a way, without a wing,

O'er all, through all, its thoughts shall fly; A nameless and eternal thing,

Forgetting w bat it was to die.

« ALL IS VANITY, SAITH THE PREACHER.» FAME, wisdom, love, and power were mine,

And health and youth possess'd me;
My goblets blush'd from every vine,

And lovely forms caress'd me;
I sunnd my heart in beauty's eyes,

And felt my soul grow tender;
All earth can give, or mortal prize,

Was mine of regal splendour.
I strive to number o'er what days

Remembrance can discover,
Which all that life or earth di plays

Would Jure me to live over,
There rose no day, there rolld no hour

Of pleasure unembillerd;
And not a frapping deck'd my power

That calld not while it glitter'd.
The serpent of the field, by art

And spells, is won from farming;
But that which coils around the heart,

Oh! who hath power of charming?
It will not list to windom's lore,

Nor music's voice can lure it;
But there it stings for evermore

The soul that must cudure it.

VISION OF BELSHAZZAR, The king was on his throne,

The satraps throng'd the ball; A thousand bright lamps shone

O'er that high festival. A thousand cups of gold,

In Judah deem d divineJehovah's vessels hold

The godless heathen's wine! In that same hour and hall,

The fingers of a land Came forth against the wall,

And wrote as if on sand : The fingers of a man,

A solitary hand Along the letters ran,

And traced them like a wand.


Wrex coldness wraps this suffering clay,

Ah, whither strays the imınortal mind?
It cannot die, it cannot stay,

But leaves its darken'd dust behind.
Then, unembodied, doch it trace

By steps each planet's heavenly way?
Or fill at once the realms of space,

A thing of eyes, that all survey!
Eternal, boundless, undecay'd,

A thought unseen, but seeing all,
All, all in earth, or skies display'd,

Shall it survey, shall it recal:
Each fainter trace that memory holds,

So darkly of departed years,
Jo onc broad glance the soul beholds,

And all, that was, at once appears.
Before creation peopled earth,

Its eye shall roll through chaos back :
And where the furthest hraven had rtlı,

The spirit trace its rising track.
And where the future mars or makes,

Its flance dilate o'er all to be,
While sun is queuclid or system breaks,

Fix'd in its own eternity.
Above or love, hope, hate, or fear,

Tulives all passionless and pure :

The monarch saw, and shook,

And bade no more rejoice;
All bloodless wax'd his look,

Aud tremulous his voice. « Let the men of lore appear,

The wisest of the carth,
And expound the words of fear

Which mar our royal mirth.» Chaldea's seers are good,

But here they have no skill; And the unknown letters stood,

Untol and awful still. And Babel's men of age

Are wise aud deep in lore; But now they were not sace,

They saw-but knew no more. A captive in the land,

A stranger and a youth,
Ble heard the king's command,

Ile saw that writing's truth.
The lamps around were bright,

The prophecy in view; He read it on that night,

The morrow proved it true. « Belshazzar's grave is made,

Ilis kingdom pass d away; Be, in the balance weighid,

Is light and worthless clay. The shroud, his robe of state,

His canopy, the stove; The Mede is at his cate!

The Persian on his throne »

SUN OF TUE SLEEPLESS! Sun of the sleepless! melancholy star! Whose tearful beam glows tremulously far,

That show'st the darkness thou canst not dispel,
How like art thou to joy remember'd well!
So gleams the past, the light of other days,
Which shines, but warms not with its powerless rays;
A night-beam sorrow watcheth to behold,
Distinct, but distant-clear-but, oh how cold!

On many an eve, the high spot wlience I gazed
Tad reflected the last beam of day as it blazed;
While I stood on the height, and beheld the decline
Of the

rays from the mountain that shone on thy shrine.
And now on that mountain I stood on that day,
But I mark'd not the twilight beam melting away:
Oh! would that the lightning had glared in its stead,
And the thunderbolt burst on the conqueror's head!
But the gods of the Pagan shall never profane
The shrine where Jehovalı disdain d not to reign;
And scatter'd and scorn'd as thy people may be,
Our worship, oh Father! is only for thee.



Were my bosom as false as thou deem'st it to be,
I need not have wanderd from far Galilee;
It was but abjuring my creed to effacc
The curse which, thou sayest, is the crime of my race.
If the bad never triumph, then God is with thee!
If the slave only sin, thou art spotless and free!
If the exile on earth is an outcast on bigh,
Live on in thy faith, but in mine I will die.



I have lost for that faith more than thou canst bestow.
As the God who permits thee to prosper doth know;
In his hand is my heart and my bope-and iu thine
The land and the life which for bim I resign.


We sat down and wept by the waters

Of Babel, and thought of the day When our foe, in the hue of his slaughters,

Made Salem's higle places his prey; And ye, oh lier desolate daughters!

Were scatter'd all weeping away. While sadly we gazed on the river

Which rollid on in freedom below, They demanded the song ; but, oli never

That triumph the stranger shall know! May this right hand be withier'd for ever,

Erc it string our higi harp for the foe! On the willow that harp is suspended, —

Ob Salem! its sound should be free;
And the hour when thy glories were ended,

But left ine that token of thee :
Aud ne'er shall its soft tones be blended

With the voice of the spoiler by me!

Ou, Mariamne! now for thee

The heart for which thou bled'st is bleeding; Revenge is lost in agony,

And wild remorse to rage succeeding. Oh, Mariamne! where art thou ?

Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading : Ah, couldst thou-thou wouldst pardon now,

Though Heaven were lo my prayer unlieeding. And is she dead ?--and did they dare

Obey my frenzy's jealous raving?
My wrath but doomd my own despair :

The sword that smole her 's o'er me waving: But thou art cold, my murder 'd love!

And this dark heart is vainly craving For her who soars alone above,

And leaves my soul unworthy saving: She's fone, who shared


diadem! She sunk, with her my joys entoubing : I swept that flower from Judali's stem

Whose leaves for me alone were blooming And mine's the guilt, and mine the hell,

This boson's desolation dooming: And I have earn 'd those tortures well,

Which unconsumed are still consuming'

THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIE. The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold: And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea. When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green. That lost with their banners at sunset were seen : Like the leaves of the forest whep autumn hath blosa, That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, Aud breathed in the face of the foe as he passd; And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still.' And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, but through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride And the foam of his fasping lay wbite on the turf, ind cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew ou bis brow and the rust on his mail; and the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet uoblown. jud the widows of Ishur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Bial;

In the might of the Gentile, usmote by the “wer 1, liath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord'

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