The true nobility of generous minds,
Equal to either conquest, weal or woe,
Triumphant over fortune, friend or foe,
In thee, pure-hearted youth, its pattern finds :
Child best-beloved of Israel's green old age,
Innocent dreamer, persecuted slave,
Good steward, unguilty captive, honour'd sage,
Whose timely counsel rescued from the grave
Egypt's bronze children, and those exiled few

Dwelling at Goshen,-Ruler, born to save,
How rich a note of welcome were thy due,

O man much tried, and never found to fail; Young, beauteous, mighty, wise and chaste and true, Hail, holy prince, unspotted greatness, hail!

Aloses.

How should I greet thee, GOD's ambassador,
Great shepherd of the people,-how proclaim
In worthiest song thy more than human fame,
Meek bard yet princely, vengeful conqueror,
Leader, and lawgiver?-thy hallow'd name
Ev'n now with fears the captive bosom fills,

Though the dear love of thy grand Antitype
In glad assurance through that bosom thrills:

Alas, thy faithless tribes, for judgment ripe, Chose Ebal and the curse; didst thou not heed When these thy children dared the dreadful deed Whereat high noon was blind,- -nor bless the grace, Which shall that stain from crime's dark record wipe, And love once more the long-rejected race?

It is not for thy throne and diadem,
Nor for the prowess of thy ruddy youth,
Nor skill with gentle minstrelsy to soothe
The spirit in its griefs, and banish them,

We count thee blest; these lesser stars of praise May well in lustrous beauty round thee blaze, Anointed monarch of Jerusalem;

But, that omniscient truth hath titled thee
Man after GOD's own heart,-this name alone
Doth, to its highest, mortal glory raise,
And leave us wondering here: O favour'd one,
As to my SAVIOUR's symbol, reverent
And with such worship as befitteth me,
So would I greet thee, royal penitent.

Solomon.

Who hath not heard the trumpet of thy fame?
Or is there that sequester'd dismal spot
Where thy far-echoing glory soundeth not?-
The tented Arab still among his mates
In wondrous story chaunts thy mighty name;
Thy marvels yet the fakir celebrates;
Yea, and for Solomon's unearthly power

The sorcerer yells amid his deeds of shame,
Rifling the dead at midnight's fearful hour :

Not such thy praise; these savour of a fall
Which penitence should banish from the mind;
We gladlier on thy sainted wisdom call,
And greet thee with the homage of mankind,
Wisest, and mightiest, and first of all.

Thou poor and old, yet ever rich and young,
Ye sunless eyeballs, in all wisdom bright,
Travel-stain'd feet, and home-unwelcomed tongue,
That for a pauper's pittance stray'd, and sung,
Where after-times the frequent acolyte

Track'd those faint steps with worship,-at what time
And where, thou untaught master, did the strings
Of thine immortal harp echo sublime

The rage of heroes, and the toil of kings? Uncertain shadow of a mystic name,

The world's dead praise, as Hellas' living shame, There is a mystery brooding on thy birth,

That thee its own each willing soil may claim; Thy fatherland is all the flatter'd earth.

Isaiah.

Hear him, sore-travailing mother, patient earth,
Hear the glad eloquence of this thy son;
The times of want and woe are well nigh done,
And old creation springs to second birth,
Toil's rest, care's cure, and melancholy's mirth :
O golden sabbath of the world, speed on;
Why tarrieth nature's king ?-the woods, the waves,
The waiting righteous in their prison-graves,

The moan of famine, and the shriek of fear,
Entreat thy coming, O Desire of all,

Theme of Isaiah's hope, in praise appear!
Great Monarch, take thy universal crown,
Even so, quickly: shall thy people call
In vain? O rend the heavens, and come down!

To know thyself, a knowledge beyond price,

Which some of this world's wisest cannot learn, To search the heart, and keenly there discern Even among its flowers of Paradise

The watchful subtle snake of natural vice,

And thus aware, to fly it,-nor to fan

Those guilty sparks that else shall scorch and burn Thine innocence,-this is thy wisdom, Man:

This, had no messenger of grace aloud

Proclaim'd it for thy weal, of yonder sage Separate in glory from that white-robed crowd, Thou long hadst learnt: Solon, from age to One short full phrase a noble proof supplies That thou wert wise as good, and good as wise.

Aesop.

A garden of ungather'd parable

age

Lies ripe around us, in fair-figured speech Blooming, like Persian love-letters, to teach Dull-hearted man where hidden pleasures dwell; Its fruits, its flowers, of love and beauty tell, And, as quick conscience wings the thought, to each Doth all our green sweet world sublimely preach Of wisdom, truth, and might, unutterable:

For thee, poor Phrygian slave, mind's free-born son, In whose keen humour nought of malice lurk'd

While good was forced at wit's sarcastic fire, The world should pay thee thanks, for having work'd That garden first; and well the work is done, A labourer full worthy of his hire.

The poisonous tooth of time, O shepherdess,
Hath kill'd thy thousand vines; a few scarr'd shoots
Alone are green above the wither'd roots,

And thence we cherish an admiring guess

Of what the rich ripe vintage should have been: Poor muse, they do thee wrong; they have not seen Those records lost of truth and tenderness,

They have not read thy heart,—but harm thee still Where, as unknown, their charity should bless, Tainting thy memory with whisper'd ill: Yet are those snatches of thy musical songs Full of warm nature, and impassion'd truth, Love, beauty, sweetness, and eternal youth: Sappho, we praise thee rather for thy wrongs.

Pythagoras.

Rare Egypt, not thine own sweet-water'd Nile,`
Thy Memphis, nor those seated giants twain,
Not golden Thebes, nor Luxor's stately fane,
Nor pyramids eterne of mountain pile,

Exhaust thy glories gone: thy grander boast Was Learning, and her sons,—who throng'd of old To draw fair knowledge from thy generous coast, Nor drew in vain, but drank the blessed draught; And deepest hath this noble Samian quaff'd

Who walketh with me now in white and gold; Wear thou indeed that crown, mysterious sage, Whose soaring fancy, with deep diving thought, Hath pour'd mind-riches over every age,

And charm'd a world Pythagoras hath taught.