For this, o'er many a hill her boughs she threw,
And her wide arms like goodly cedars grew?
For this, proud Edom slept beneath her shade,
And o'er the Arabian deep her branches play'd?
O feeble boast of transitory power!
Vain, fruitless trust of Judah's happier hour!
Not such their hope, when through the parted
The cloudy wonder led the warrior train :
Not such their hope, when through the fields of
The torch of heaven diffus'd its friendly light:
Not, when fierce Conquest urg'd the onward war,
And hurl'd stern Canaan from his iron car:
Nor, when five monarchs led to Gibeon's fight,
In rude array, the harness'd Amorite:
Yes-in that hour, by mortal accents stay'd,
The lingering sun his fiery wheels delay'd;
The moon, obedient, trembled at the sound,
Curb'd her pale car, and check'd her mazy round!
Let Sinai tell-for she beheld his might,
And God's own darkness veil'd her mystic height :
(He, cherub-borne, upon the whirlwind rode,
And the red mountain like a furnace glow'd :)
Let Sinai tell-but who shall dare recite
His praise, his power,-eternal, infinite?—
Awe-struck I cease; nor bid my strains aspire,
Or serve his altar with unhallow'd fire.
Such were the cares that watch'd o'er Israel's
And such the glories of their infant state.
---Triumphant race! and did your power decay?
Fail'd the bright promise of your early day?
No:-by that sword, which, red with heathen gore,
A giant spoil, the stripling champion bore ;
By him, the chief to farthest India known,
The mighty master of the iv'ry throne;
In heaven's own strength, high towering o'er her
Victorious Salem's lion banner rose :
Before her footstool prostrate nations lay,
And vassal tyrants crouch'd beneath her sway.
-And he, the kingly sage, whose restless mind
Through nature's mazes wander'd unconfin'd;
Who ev'ry bird, and beast, and insect knew,
And spake of every plant that quaffs the dew;
To him were known-so Hagar's offspring tell-
The powerful sigil and the starry spell,
The midnight call, hell's shadowy legions dread, And sounds that burst the slumbers of the dead.
Hence all his might; for who could these oppose?
And Tadmor thus, and Syrian Balbec rose.
Yet e'en the works of toiling Genii fall,
And vain was Estakhar's enchanted wall.
In frantic converse with the mournful wind,
There oft the houseless Santon rests reclin'd;
Strange shapes he views, and drinks with won-
d'ring ears
The voices of the dead, and songs of other years.
Such, the faint echo of departed praise,
Still sound Arabia's legendary lays;
And thus their fabling bards delight to tell
How lovely were thy tents, O Israel!
For thee his iv'ry load Behemoth bore,
And far Sofala teem'd with golden ore;
Thine all the arts that wait on wealth's in
Or bask and wanton in the beam of peace.
When Tyber slept beneath the cypress gloom,
And silence held the lonely woods of Rome;
Or ere to Greece the builder's skill was known,
Or the light chisel brush'd the Parian stone;
Yet here fair Science nurs'd her infant fire,
Fann'd by the artist aid of friendly Tyre.
Then tower'd the palace, then in awful state
The Temple rear'd its everlasting gate.
No workman steel, no pond'rous axes rung;
Like some tall palm the noiseless fabric sprung.
Majestic silence!-then the harp awoke,
The cymbal clang'd, the deep-voic'd trumpet
And Salem spread her suppliant arms abroad, View'd the descending flame, and bless'd the
Nor shrunk she then, when, raging deep and loud, Beat o'er her soul the billows of the proud.
E'en they who, dragg'd to Shinar's fiery sand, Till'd with reluctant strength the stranger's land; Who sadly told the slow-revolving years,
And steep'd the captive's bitter bread with tears; Yet oft their hearts with kindling hopes would
Their destin'd triumphs, and their glad return,
And their sad lyres, which, silent and unstrung,
In mournful ranks on Babel's willows hung,
Would oft awake to chant their future fame,
And from the skies their ling'ring Saviour claim.
His promis'd aid could every fear control;
This nerv'd the warrior's arm, this steel'd the martyr's soul!
Nor vain their hope:-Bright beaming through
Burst in full blaze the Day-spring from on high;
Earth's utmost isles exulted at the sight,
And crowding nations drank the orient light.
Lo, star-led chiefs Assyrian odours bring,
And bending Magi seek their infant King!
Mark'd ye, where, hov'ring o'er his radiant
The dove's white wings celestial glory shed?
Daughter of Sion! virgin queen! rejoice!
Clap the glad hand, and lift the exulting voice!
He comes,--but not in regal splendour drest,
The haughty diadem, the Tyrian vest;
Not arm'd in flame, all glorious from afar,
Of hosts the chieftain, and the lord of war:
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