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And left, in clear and purple light reveal'd,
The radiant river, and the tented field;
The black pine-forest, in whose girdle lay
The patriot phalanx, hemm'd in close array;
The verdant champaign narrowing to the north,
Whence from their dusky quarters sallied forth
The proud invaders, early roused to fight,
Tribe after tribe emerging into light;
Whose shields and lances, in the golden beams,
Flash'd o'er the restless scene their flickering gleams,
As when the breakers catch the morning glow,
And ocean rolls in living fire below;

So round the unbroken border of the wood,
The Giants pour'd their army like a flood,
Eager to force the covert of their foe,
And lay the last defence of Eden low.

From that safe eminence, absorb'd in thought, Even till the wind the shout of legions brought, He gazed, his heart recoil'd-he turn'd his head, And o'er the southern hills his journey sped.

Who was the fugitive?-in infancy
A youthful Mother's only hope was he,
Whose spouse and kindred, on a festal day,
Precipitate destruction swept away;

Earth trembled, open'd, and entomb'd them all;
She saw them sinking, heard their voices call
Beneath the gulf,—and, agonized, aghast,
On the wild verge of eddying ruin cast,
Felt in one pang, at that convulsive close,
A Widow's anguish, and a Mother's throes:
A Babe sprang forth, an inauspicious birth,
Where all had perish'd that she loved on earth.
Forlorn and helpless, on the upriven ground,
The parent, with her offspring, Enoch found:
And thence, with tender care and timely aid,
Home to the Patriarchs' glen his charge convey'd.

Restored to life, one pledge of former joy, One source of bliss to come, remain'd,-her boy! Sweet in her eye the cherish'd infant rose, At once the seal and solace of her woes; When the pale widow clasp'd him to her breast, Warm gush'd the tears, and would not be represt ; In lonely anguish, when the truant child Leap'd o'er the threshold, all the mother smiled. In him, while fond imagination view'd Husband and parents, brethren, friends, renew'd, Each vanish'd look, each well-remember'd grace, That pleased in them, she sought in Javan's face; For quick his eye and changeable its ray, As the sun glancing through a vernal day; And like the lake, by storm or moonlight seen, With darkening furrows or cerulean mien. His countenance, the mirror of his breast, The calm or trouble of his soul express'd.

As years enlarged his form, in moody hours, His mind betray'd its weakness with its powers; Alike his fairest hopes and strangest fears Were nursed in silence, or divulged with tears; The fullness of his heart repress'd his tongue, Though none might rival Javan when he sung. He loved, in lonely indolence reclined, To watch the clouds, and listen to the wind.

But from the north, when snow and tempest came,
His nobler spirit mounted into flame;
With stern delight he roam'd the howling woods,
Or hung in ecstacy o'er headlong floods,
Meanwhile excursive fancy long'd to view
The world, which yet by fame alone he knew;
The joys of freedom were his daily theme,
Glory the secret of his midnight dream;
That dream he told not; though his heart would
ache,

His home was precious for his mother's sake.
With her the lowly paths of peace he ran,
His guardian angel, till he verged to man;
But when her weary eye could watch no more,
When to the grave her timeless corse he bore,
Not Enoch's counsels could his steps restrain;
He fled, and sojourn'd in the land of Cain.
There when he heard the voice of Jubal's lyre,
Instinctive Genius caught the ethereal fire;
And soon, with sweetly-modulating skill,
He learn'd to wind the passions at his will,
To rule the chords with such mysterious art,
They seem'd the life-strings of the hearer's heart
Then Glory's opening field he proudly trod,
Forsook the worship and the ways of God,
Round the vain world pursued the phantom Fame,
And cast away his birthright for a name.

Yet no delight the Minstrel's bosom knew,
None save the tones that from his harp he drew,
And the warm visions of a wayward mind,
Whose transient splendor left a gloom behind
Frail as the clouds of sun-set, and as fair,
Pageants of light, resolving into air.

The world, whose charms his young affections stole
He found too mean for an immortal soul;
Wound with his life, through all his feelings wrought,
Death and eternity possess'd his thought;
Remorse impell'd him, unremitting care
Harass'd his path, and stung him to despair.
Still was the secret of his griefs unknown,
Amidst the universe he sigh'd alone;
The fame he follow'd, and the fame he found,
Heal'd not his heart's immedicable wound;
Admired, applauded, crown'd, where'er he roved
The Bard was homeless, friendless, unbeloved.
All else that breathed below the circling sky,
Were link'd to earth by some endearing tie;
He only, like the ocean-weed uptorn,
And loose along the world of waters borne,
Was cast companionless, from wave to wave,
On life's rough sea, and there was none to save.

The Giant King, who led the hosts of Cain,
Delighted in the Minstrel and his vein;
No hand, no voice, like Javan's, could control
With soothing concords, his tempestuous soul.
With him the wandering Bard, who found no rest
Through ten years' exile, sought his native west;
There from the camp retiring, he pursued
His journey to the Patriarchs' solitude.
This son of peace no martial armor wore,
A scrip for food, a staff in hand he bore;
Flaxen his robe; and o'er his shoulder hung,
Broad as a warrior's shield, his harp unstrung,
A shell of tortoise, exquisitely wrought
With hieroglyphics of embodied thought;

Jubal himself enchased the polish'd frame;
And Javan won it in the strife for fame,
Among the sons of Music, when their Sire
To his victorious skill adjudged the lyre.

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Love rose against the World, and Love prevail'd;

"T was noon, when Javan climb'd the bordering hill, Passion, in aid of Virtue, conquer'd Pride,

By many an old remembrance hallow'd still,
Whence he beheld, by sloping woods inclosed,
The hamlet where his Parent's dust reposed,
His home of happiness in early years,
And still the home of all his hopes and fears,
When from ambition struggling to break free,
He mused on joys and sorrows yet to be.
Awhile he stood, with rumination pale,
Casting an eye of sadness o'er the vale,
When, suddenly abrupt, spontaneous prayer
Burst from his lips for One who sojourn'd there;
For One, whose cottage, far appearing, drew,
Even from his Mother's grave, his transient view;
One, whose unconscious smiles were wont to dart
Ineffable emotion through his heart;

A nameless sympathy, more sweet, more dear
Than friendship, solaced him when she was near;
And well he guess'd, while yet a timorous boy,
That Javan's artless songs were Zillah's joy.
But when ambition, with a fiercer flame
Than untold love, had fired his soul for fame,
This infant passion, cherish'd yet represt,
Lived in his pulse, but died within his breast;
For oft, in distant lands, when hope beat high,
Westward he turn'd his eager glistening eye,
And gazed in spirit on her absent form,

Fair as the moon emerging through the storm,
Till sudden, strange, bewildering horrors cross'd
His thought, and every glimpse of joy was lost.
Even then, when melancholy numb'd his brain,
And life itself stood still in every vein,
While his cold, quivering lips sent vows above,
-Never to curse her with his bitter love!
His heart, espoused with hers, in secret sware
To hold its truth unshaken by despair:
The vows dispersed that from those lips were borne,
But never, never, was that heart forsworn;
Throughout the world, the charm of Zillah's name
Repell'd the touch of every meaner flame.
Jealous and watchful of the Sex's wiles,
He trembled at the light of Woman's smiles!
So turns the mariner's mistrusting eye
From proud Orion bending through the sky,
Beauteous and terrible, who shines afar,
At once the brightest and most baneful star.'

Where Javan from that eastern hill survey'd
The circling forest and embosom'd glade,
Earth wore one summer robe of living green,
In heaven's blue arch the sun alone was seen;
Creation slumber'd in the cloudless light,
And noon was silent as the depth of night.
Oh what a throng of rushing thoughts oppress'd,
In that vast solitude, his anxious breast!
-To wither in the blossom of renown,
And unrecorded to the dust go down,

1 Cosi gl' infausti rai

Spande Oridne, e i naviganti attrista,
Orion, chie tra gli astri in ciel risplende

Vie più d'ogni altro, e più d' ogni altro offende.

Filicaja,

And Woman won the heart to Heaven denied.

CANTO II.

Javan, descending through the Forest, arrives at the Place where he had formerly parted with Zillah, when he withdrew from the Patriarchs' Glen. There he again discovers her in a Bower formed on the Spot. Their strange Interview, and abrupt Separation.

STEEP the descent, and wearisome the way,
The twisted boughs forbade the light of day;
No breath from heaven refresh'd the sultry gloom,
The arching forest seem'd one pillar'd tomb,
Upright and tall the trees of ages grow,
While all is loneliness and waste below;
There, as the massy foliage, far aloof
Display'd a dark impenetrable roof,

So, gnarl'd and rigid, claspt and interwound,
An uncouth maze of roots emboss'd the ground:
Midway beneath, the sylvan wild assumed
A milder aspect, shrubs and flowerets bloom'd;
Openings of sky, and little plots of green,

And showers of sun-beams through the leaves were

seen.

Awhile the traveller halted at the place,
Where last he caught a glimpse of Zillah's face,
One lovely eve, when in that calm retreat
They met, as they were often wont to meet,
And parted, not as they were wont to part,
With gay regret, but heaviness of heart;
Though Javan named for his return the night.
When the new moon had roll'd to full-orb'd light.
She stood, and gazed through tears that forced their
way,

Oft as from steep to steep, with fond delay,
Lessening at every view, he turn'd his head,
Hail'd her with weaker voice, then forward sped.
From that sad hour, she saw his face no more
In Eden's woods, or on Euphrates' shore:
Moons wax'd and waned; to her no hope appear'd,
Who much his death, but more his falsehood fear'd.

Now, while he paused, the lapse of years forgot,
Remembrance eyed her lingering near the spot.
Onward he hasten'd; all his bosom burn'd,
As if that eve of parting were return'd;
And she, with silent tenderness of woe,
Clung to his heart, and would not let him go.
Sweet was the scene! apart the cedars stood,
A sunny islet open'd in the wood;

With vernal tints the wild-brier thicket glows,
For here the desert flourish'd as the rose;
From sapling trees, with lucid foliage crown'd,
Gay lights and shadows twinkled on the ground;
Up the tall stems luxuriant creepers run

To hang their silver blossoms in the sun;
Deep velvet verdure clad the turf beneath,
Where trodden flowers their richest odors breathe.

O'er all the bees, with murmuring music, flew
From bell to bell, to sip the treasured dew;
While insect myriads, in the solar gleams,
Glanced to and fro, like intermingling beams;
So fresh, so pure, the woods, the sky, the air,
It seem'd a place where angels might repair,
And tune their harps beneath those tranquil shades,
To morning songs, or moonlight serenades.

He paused again, with memory's dream entranced; Again his foot unconsciously advanced, For now the laurel-thicket caught his view, Where he and Zillah wept their last adieu. Some curious hand, since that bereaving hour, Had twined the copse into a covert bower, With many a light and fragrant shrub between, Flowering aloft amidst perennial green. As Javan search'd this blossom-woven shade, He spied the semblance of a sleeping Maid; "T is she; 't is Zillah, in her leafy shrine; O'erwatched in slumber by a power divine, In cool retirement from the heat of day, Alone, unfearing, on the moss she lay,

Fair as the rainbow shines through darkening showers, Pure as a wreath of snow on April flowers.

O youth in later times, whose gentle ear This tale of ancient constancy shall hear; If thou hast known the sweetness and the pain, To love with secret hope, yet love in vain; If months and years in pining silence worn, Till doubt and fear might be no longer borne, In evening shades thy faltering tongue confess'd The last dear wish that trembled in thy breast, While at each pause the streamlet purl'd along And rival woodlands echoed song for song; Recall the Maiden's look-the eye, the cheek, The blush that spoke what language could not speak; Recall her look, when at the altar's side She seal'd her promise, and became thy bride. Such were to Javan, Zillah's form and face, The flower of meekness on a stem of grace; O, she was all that Youth of Beauty deems, All that to Love the loveliest object seems.

Moments there are, that, in their sudden flight, Bring the slow mysteries of years to light; Javan, in one transporting instant, knew, That all he wish'd, and all he fear'd, was true; For while the harlot-world his soul possess'd, Love seem'd a crime in his apostate breast; How could he tempt her innocence to share His poor ambition, and his fix'd despair! But now the phantoms of a wandering brain, And wounded spirit, cross'd his thoughts in vain : Past sins and follies, cares and woes forgot, Peace, virtue, Zillah, seem'd his present lot; Where'er he look'd, around him or above, All was the pledge of Truth, the work of Love, At whose transforming hand, where last they stood, Had sprung that lone memorial in the wood.

Thus on the slumbering maid while Javan gazed, With quicker swell her hidden bosom raised The shadowy tresses, that profusely shed Their golden wreaths from her reclining head;

A deeper crimson mantled o'er her cheek,
Her close lip quiver'd, as in act to speak,
While broken sobs, and tremors of unrest,
The inward trouble of a dream express'd:
At length, amidst imperfect murmurs, fell
The name of " Javan!" and a low "farewell!"
Tranquil again, her cheek resumed its hue,
And soft as infancy her breath she drew.

When Javan's ear those startling accents thrill'd, Wonder and ecstacy his bosom fill'd; But quick compunction humbler feelings wrought, He blush'd to be a spy on Zillah's thought: He turn'd aside; within the neighboring brake, Resolved to tarry till the nymph awake, There, as in luxury of thought reclined, A calm of tenderness composed his mind; His stringless harp upon the turf was thrown, And on a pipe of most mellifluous tone, Framed by himself, the musing Minstrel play'd, To charm the slumberer, cloister'd in the shade. Jubal had taught the lyre's responsive string, Beneath the rapture of his touch to sing; And bade the trumpet wake, with bolder breath, The joy of battle in the field of death; But Javan first, whom pure affection fired, With Love's clear eloquence the flute inspired; At once obedient to the lip and hand, It utter'd every feeling at command. Light o'er the stops his airy fingers flew, A spirit spoke in every tone they drew; "T was now the skylark on the wings of morn, Now the night-warbler leaning on her thorn; Anon through every pulse the music stole, And held sublime communion with the soul, Wrung from the coyest breast the unprison'd sigh, And kindled rapture in the coldest eye.

Thus on his dulcet pipe while Javan play'd,
Within her bower awoke the conscious maid;
She, in her dream, by varying fancies crost,
Had hail'd her wanderer found, and mourn'd him lost;
In one wild vision, 'midst a land unknown
By a dark river, as she sat alone,
Javan beyond the stream dejected stood;
He spied her soon, and leapt into the flood;
The thwarting current urged him down its course,
But Love repell'd it with victorious force;
She ran to help him landing, where at length
He struggled up the bank with failing strength;
She caught his hand-when, downward from the day,
A water-monster dragg'd the youth away;
She follow'd headlong, but her garments bore
Her form, light floating, till she saw no more:
For suddenly the dream's delusion changed,
And through a blooming wilderness she ranged;
Alone she seem'd, but not alone she walk'd-
Javan, invisible, beside her talk'd.

He told how he had journey'd many a year
With changing seasons in their swift career,
Danced with the breezes in the bowers of morn,
Slept in the valley where new moons are born,
Rode with the planets, on their golden cars,
Round the blue world inhabited by stars,
And, bathing in the sun's crystalline streams,
Became ethereal spirit in the beams,

Whence were his lineaments, from mortal sight,
Absorb'd in pure transparency of light;
But now, his pilgrimage of glory past,
In Eden's vale he sought repose at last.

The voice was mystery to Zillah's ear,
Not speech, nor song, yet full, melodious, clear;
No sounds of winds or waters, birds or bees,
Were e'er so exquisitely tuned to please.
Then while she sought him with desiring eyes,
The airy Javan darted from disguise-
Full on her view a stranger's visage broke;
She fled, she fell, he caught her, she awoke.

Awoke from sleep,-but in her solitude
Found the enchantment of her dream renew'd;
That living voice, so full, melodious, clear,
That voice of mystery warbled in her ear.
Yet words no longer wing the trembling notes,
Unearthly, inexpressive music floats,
In liquid tones so voluble and wild,
Her senses seem by slumber still beguiled:
Alarm'd, she started from her lonely den,
But, blushing, instantly retired again;

The viewless phantom came in sound so near,
The stranger of her dream might next appear.
Javan, conceal'd behind the verdant brake,
Felt his lip fail, and strength his hand forsake;
Then dropt his flute, and while he lay at rest
Heard every pulse that travell'd through his breast.
Zillah, who deem'd the strange illusion fled,
Now from the laurel-arbor show'd her head,
Her eye quick-glancing round, as if in thought
Recoiling from the object that she songht:
By slow degrees, to Javan in the shade,
The emerging nymph her perfect shape display'd.
Time had but touch'd her form to finer grace,
Years had but shed their favors on her face,
While secret Love, and unrewarded Truth,
Like cold clear dew upon the rose of youth,
Gave to the springing flower a chasten'd bloom,
And shut from rifling winds its coy perfume.

Words cannot paint the wonder of her look,
When once again his pipe the Minstrel took,
And soft in under-tones began to play,

Like the caged woodlark's low-lamenting lay:
Then loud and shrill, by stronger breath impell'd,
To higher strains the undaunted music swell'd,
Till new-born echoes through the forest rang,
And birds, at noon, in broken slumbers sang.
Bewildering transport, infantine surprise,
Throbb'd in her bosom, sparkled in her eyes.
O'er every feature every feeling shone,
Her color changed as Javan changed his tone;
While she, between the bower and brake entranced,
Alternately retreated or advanced;
Sometimes the lessening cadence seem'd to fly,
Then the full melody came rolling nigh;
She shrunk, or follow'd still, with eye and feet,
Afraid to lose it, more afraid to meet;
For yet through Eden's land, by fame alone,
Jubal's harmonious minstrelsy was known,
Though nobler songs than cheer'd the Patriarchs' glen
Never resounded from the lips of men.

Silence, at length, the listening Maiden broke;
The heart of Javan check'd him while she spoke;

Though sweeter than his pipe her accents stole,
He durst not learn the tumult of her soul,
But, closely cowering in his ambuscade,
With sprightlier breath and nimbler finger play'd.
"T is not the nightingale that sang so well,
When Javan left me near this lonely cell;
"Tis not indeed the nightingale;-her voice
Could never since that hour my soul rejoice:
Some bird from Paradise hath lost her way,
And carols here a long-forbidden lay;
For ne'er since Eve's transgression, mortal ear
Was privileged such heavenly sounds to hear;
Perhaps an Angel, while he rests his wings,
On earth alighting, here his descant sings;
Methinks those tones, so full of joy and love,
Must be the language of the world above!
Within this brake he rests:" With curious ken,
As if she fear'd to stir a lion's den,
Breathless, on tiptoe, round the copse she crept;
Her heart beat quicker, louder, as she stept,
Till Javan rose, and fix'd on her his eyes,
In dumb embarrassment, and feign'd surprise.
Upright she started, at the sudden view,
Back from her brow the scatter'd ringlets flew;
Paleness a moment overspread her face;
But fear to frank astonishment gave place,
And with the virgin-blush of innocence,
She ask'd, "Who art thou, Stranger, and from
whence?"

With mild demeanor, and with downcast eye,
Javan, advancing, humbly made reply:
-"A Wretch, escaping from the tribes of men,
Seeks an asylum in the Patriarchs' glen;
As through the forest's breathless gloom I stray'd,
Up-sprang the breeze in this delicious shade;
Then, while I sate beneath the rustling tree,
I waked this pipe to wildest minstrelsy,
Child of my fancy, framed with Jubal's art,
To breathe at will the fullness of my heart:
Fairest of Women! if the clamor rude
Hath scared the quiet of thy solitude,
Forgive the innocent offence, and tell
How far beyond these woods the righteous dwell."-
Though changed his voice, his look and stature
changed,

In air and garb, in all but love estranged,
Still in the youthful exile Zillah sought
A dear lost friend, for ever near her thought!
Yet answer'd coldly,-jealous and afraid
Her heart might be mistaken, or betray'd.
-"Not far from hence the faithful race reside;
Pilgrim! to whom shall I thy footsteps guide?
Alike to all, if thou an alien be,

My father's home invites thee: follow me."

She spoke with such a thought-divining look,
Color his lip, and power his tongue forsook;
At length, in hesitating tone, and low,
-"Enoch," said he, "the friend of God, I know.
To him I bear a message full of fear;

I may not rest till he vouchsafe to hear."

He paused: his cheek with red confusion burn'd;
Kindness through her relenting breast return'd:
-"Behold the path," she cried, and led the way;
Ere long the vale unbosom'd to the day:

211

-"Yonder, where two embracing oaks are seen, Arch'd o'er a cottage-roof, that peeps between, Dwells Enoch; Stranger! peace attend thee there, My father's sheep demand his daughter's care."

Javan was so rebuked beneath her eye, She vanish'd ere he falter'd a reply, And sped, while he in cold amazement stood, Along the winding border of the wood; Now lost, now re-appearing, as the glade Shone to the sun, or darken'd in the shade. He saw, but might not follow, where her flock Were wont to rest at noon, beneath a rock. He knew the willowy champaign, and the stream, Of many an early lay the simple theme, Chanted in Boyhood's unsuspecting hours, When Zillah join'd the song, or praised his powers. Thither he watch'd her, while her course she bore, Nor ceased to gaze, when she was seen no more.

CANTO III.

But chill the life-blood ran through every vein,
The fire of frenzy faded from his brain.
He cast himself in terror on the ground:
-Slowly recovering strength, he gazed around,
In wistful silence, eyed those walls decay'd,
Between whose chinks the lively lizard play'd;
The moss-clad timbers, loose and lapsed awry,
Threatening ere long in wider wreck to lie;
The fractured roof, through which the sun-beams
shone,

With rank unflowering verdure overgrown;
The prostrate fragments of the wicker-door,
And reptile traces on the damp green floor.
This mournful spectacle while Javan view'd,
Life's earliest scenes and trials were renew'd;
O'er his dark mind, the light of years gone by,
Gleam'd, like the meteors of a northern sky.
He moved his lips, but strove in vain to speak,
A few slow tears stray'd down his cold wan cheek,
Till from his breast a sigh convulsive sprung,
And "O my Mother!" trembled from his tongue.
That name, though but a murmur, that dear name
Touch'd every kind affection into flame;
Despondency assumed a milder form,

A ray of comfort darted through the storm;
"O God! be merciful to me!"-He said,

Javan's Soliloquy on Zillah's Desertion of him.-He reaches the Ruins of his Mother's Cottage. Arose, and straight to Enoch's dwelling sped. Thence he proceeds to Enoch's Dwelling.-His Reception there.-Enoch and Javan proceed together towards the Place of Sacrifice.-Description of the Patriarchs' Glen;-Occasion of the Family of Seth retiring thither at first.

"Am I so changed by suffering, so forgot,
That Love disowns me, Zillah knows me not?
Ah! no; she shrinks from my disastrous fate,
She dare not love me, and she cannot hate:
'Tis just; I merit this:-When Nature's womb
Ingulf'd my kindred in one common tomb,
Why was I spared?-A reprobate by birth,
To heaven rebellious, unallied on earth,
Whither, O whither shall the outcast flee?
There is no home, no peace, no hope for me.
I hate the worldling's vanity and noise,
I have no fellow-feeling in his joys:
The saint's serener bliss I cannot share,
My Soul, alas! hath no communion there.
This is the portion of my cup below,
Silent, unmingled, solitary woe;

To bear from clime to clime the curse of Cain,
Sin with remorse, yet find repentance vain;
And cling, in blank despair, from breath to breath,
To nought in life, except the fear of Death."-

While Javan gave his bitter passion vent,
And wander'd on, unheeding where he went,
His feet, instinctive, led him to the spot
Where rose the ruins of his Childhood's cot;
Here, as he halted in abrupt surprise,
His Mother seem'd to vanish from his eyes,
As if her gentle form, unmark'd before,
Had stood to greet him at the wonted door;
Yet did the pale retiring Spirit dart
A look of tenderness that broke his heart:
"T was but a thought, arrested on its flight,
And bodied forth with visionary light,

Enoch, who sate, to taste the freshening breeze,
Beneath the shadow of his cottage-trees,
Beheld the youth approaching; and his eye,
Instructed by the light of prophecy,
Knew from afar, beneath the stranger's air,
The orphan-object of his tenderest care;
Forth, with a father's joy, the holy man
To meet the poor returning pilgrim ran,
Fell on his neck, and kiss'd him, wept, and cried,
"My son! my son!"-but Javan shrunk aside;
The Patriarch raised, embraced him, oft withdrew
His head to gaze, then wept and clasp'd anew.
The mourner bow'd with agony of shame,
Clung round his knees, and call'd upon his name.
-"Father! behold a supplicant in me,

A sinner in the sight of Heaven and thee;
Yet for thy former love, may Javan live:
O, for the mother's sake, the son forgive!—
The meanest office, and the lowest seat,
In Enoch's house be mine, at Enoch's feet."

"Come to my home, my bosom and my rest,
Not as a stranger, and wayfaring guest:
My bread of peace, my cup of blessings share,
Child of my faith! and answer to my prayer!
O, I have wept through many a night for thee,
And watch'd through many a day this day to see.
Crown'd is the hope of my desiring heart;
I am resign'd, and ready to depart:
With joy I hail my course of nature run,
Since I have seen thy face, my son! my son!"

So saying, Enoch led to his abode

The trembling penitent, along the road That through the garden's gay inclosure wound; 'Midst fruits and flowers the Patriarch's spouse they found,

Plucking the purple clusters from the vine,

To crown the cup of unfermented wine.

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