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When Cynthia's light almost gave way to morn,

And instant spurr’d him into panting speed. And nearly veil'd in mist her waning born;

His face was mask'd-tbe features of the dead, A serf, that rose betimes to thread the wood,

If dead it were, escaped the observer's dread;
And hew tbe bough that bought his children's food, But if in sooth a star its bosom bore,
Pass'd by the river that divides the plain

Such is the badge that knighthood ever wore,
Or Otho's lands and Lara's broad domain:

And such 't is known Sir Ezzelin had worn
He heard a tramp-a horse and horseman broke Upon the night that led to such a morn.
From out the wood—before him was a cloak

lithus he perish'd, Heaven receive his soul!
Wrapt round some burthen at his saddle-bow, | His undiscover'd limbs to ocean roll;
Bent was his head, and hidden was his brow. And charity upon the hope would dwell
Roused by the sudden sight at such a time,

It was not Lara's hand by which he fell.
And some foreboding that it might be crime,
Himself unheeded watch'd the stranger's course,

XXV.
Who reach'd the river, bounded from his horse,
And, lifting thence the burthen which he bore, And Kaled-Lara-Ezzelin, are gone,
Heaved up the bank, and dash'd it from the shore; Alike without their monumental stone!
Then paused, and look'd, and turn'd, and seem'd to The first, all efforts vainly strove to wean
watch,

From lingering where her chieftain's blood had been.
And still another hurried glance would snatch, Grief had so tamed a spirit once too proud,
And follow with his step the stream that flow'd, Her tears were few, her wailing never loud;
As if even yet too much its surface show'd:

But furious would you tear her from the spot At once he started, stoop'd, around him strown Where yet she scarce believed that he was not, The winter floods had scatter'd heaps of stone; Her eye shot forth with all the living fire Of these the heaviest thence he gather'd there, That haunts the tigress in her whelpless ire; And slung them with a more than common care. But left to waste ber weary moments there, Meantime the serf had crept to where unseen

She talk'd all idly unto shapes of air,
Himself might safely mark what this might mean; Such as the busy brain of Sorrow paints,
He caught a glimpse, as of a floating breast, And woos to listen to her fond complaints :
And something glitter'd starlike on the vest:

And she would sit beneath the very tree
But, ere he well could mark the buoyant trunk, Where lay his drooping head upon her knee;
A massy fragment smote it, and it sunk:

And in that posture where she saw him fall,
It rose again, but indistinct to view,

His words, his looks, his dying grasp recall; And left the waters of a purple hue,

And she had shorn but saved her raven hair, Then deeply disappear'd: the horseman gazed And oft would snatch it from her bosom there, Till ebb’d the latest eddy it had raised;

And fold and press it gently to the ground, Then, turning, vaulted on his pawing steed,

As if she stanch'd anew some phantom's wound.

visit whilst at supper, and who, during the space of a month other side of the horse; the two persons on foot supporting or thereabouts, previons to this time, had called upon him the body, to prevent its falling. They thus proceeded to. almost daily, at the apostolic palace, he took this person wards that part, where the filth of the city is usually disbehind him on his mule, and proceeded to the street of the charged into the river, and turning the horse, with his tail Jews, where he quitted his servant, directing him to re towards the water, the two persons took the dead body by main there until a certain hour; when, if he did not return, the arms and feet, and with all their strength flung it into he might repair to the palace. The duke then seated the the river. The person on horseback then asked if they had person in the mask behind him, and rode, I know not thrown it in; to which they replied, Signor, si (yes, Sir). He whither; but in that night he was assassinated, and thrown then looked towards the river, and, seeing a mantle floating into the river. The servant, after having been dismissed, was on the stream, he inquired what it was that appeared black, also assaulted and mortaily wounded; and although he was to which they answered, it was a mantle, and one of them attended with great care, yet such was his situation, that threw stones upon it, in consequence of wbicb it sunk. The he could give no intelligible account of what had befallen | attendants of the pontiff then inquired from Giorgio, why his master. In the morning, the duke not having returned he had not revealed this to the governor of the city; to to the palace, his servants began to be alarmed; and one which he replied, that he had seen in his time a hundred of them informed the pontiff of the evening excursion of his dead bodies thrown into the river at the same place, withsons, and that the duke had not yet made his appearance. out any inquiry being made respecting them; and that he This gave the pope no small anxiety; but he conjectured had not, therefore, considered it as a matter of any im. that the duke had been attracted by some courtesan to pass portance. The fishermen and seamen were then collected, the night with her, and, not choosing to quit the house in and ordered to search the river, where, on the following open day, bad waited till the following evening to return evening, they found the body of the duke, with his habit home. When, however, the evening arrived, and he found entire, and thirty ducats in his purse. He was pierced with himself disappointed in his expectations, he became deeply nine wounds, one of which was in his throat, the others in aftlicted, and began to make inquiries from different per his head, body, and limbs. No sooner was the pontiff insons, whom he ordered to attend him for that purpose. formed of the death of his son, and that he had been thrown, Amongst these was a man named Giorgio Schiavoni, who, like filth, into the river, than, giving way to his grief, he having discharged some timber from a hark in the river, shut himself up in a chamber, and wept bitterly. The Carhad remained on board the vessel to watch it; and being dinal of Segovio, and other attendants on the pope, went to interrogated whether be had seen any one thrown into the the door, and, after many hours spent in persuasions and river on the night preceding, he replied, that he saw two exhortations, prevailed upon him to admit them. From the men on foot, who came down the street, and looked dili. evening of Wednesday till the following Saturday the pope gently about, to observe whether any person was passing. took no food; nor did he sleep from Thursday morning ull That seeing no one, they returned, and a short time after the same hour on the ensuing day. At length, however, wards two others came, and looked around in the same man. giving way to the entreaties of bis attendants, be began to ner as the former: no person still appearing, they gave a restrain his sorrow, and to consider the injury which his sign to their companions, when a man came, mounted on own health might sustain, by the further indulgence of his a wbite borse, having behind him a dead body, the head grief."- Roscoe's Leo Tenth, vol. i. p. 265. and arms of which hung on one side, and the feet on the

Herself would question, and for him reply;
Then rising, start, and beckon him to fly
From some imagined spectre in pursuit;
Then seat her down upon some linden's root,

And hide her visage with her meagre hand,
Or trace strange characters along the sand.
This could not last-she lies by him she loved;
Her tale untold—her truth too dearly proved. (1)

(1) "Lara, though it has many good passages, is a further I general the same tone of deep interest and lofty feeling; proof of the melancholy fact, which is true of all sequels, I though the disappearance of Medora froin the scene deprives from the continuation of the Æneid, by one of the famous it of the enchanting sweetness by which its terrors are there Italian poets of the middle ages, down to Polly, a Sequel to redeemed, and make the hero, on the whole, less captivating. the Beggar's Opera, that 'more last words' may generally The character of Lara, too, is rather too laboriously finishbe spared, without any great detriment to the world.” ed, and his nocturnal encounter with the apparition is Bishop Heber.

worked up too ostentatiously. There is infinite beauty in " Lara has some charms which The Corsair has not. It the sketch of the dark Page, and in many of the moral or is more domestic; it calls forth more sympathies witb po. general reflections which are interspersed with the narratire." lished society; it is more intellectual, but much less passion. Jeffrey.-IE ate, less vigorous, and less brilliant; it is sometimes even

"What do the Reviewers mean by elaborate?' Lara I wrote languid,--at any rate, it is more diffuse." Sir E. Brydges. while undressing, after coming home from balls and masquerades, 10 "Lara, obviously the sequel of The Corsair, maintains in

the year of revelry, 1814," B. Letters, 1822-LE.

Hebrew Melodies (1)

ADVERTISEMENT.

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

Bat tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

Tux subsequent poems were written at the request of my friend, the Hon. D. Kinnaird, for a Selection of Hebrew Melodies, and have been published with the music, arranged by Mr. Braham and Mr. Nathan. (2)

January, 1815.

HEBREW MELODIES.

SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY. (3) She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes : Thus mellow'd to that tender light

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

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

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

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

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL

SWEPT. (4)
Tae 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 soften'd men of iron mould,

It gave them virtues not their own;
No ear so dull, no soul so cold,

That felt not, fired not to the tone,
Till David's lyre grew mightier than his throne!
It told the triumphs of our king,

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

The cedars bow, the mountains nod;

Its 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 remore.(5)

(1) Lord Byron never alludes to his share in these Melodies in mourning, with numerous spangles on her dress.-LE. with complacency. Mr. Moore having, on one occasion, Nathan however says, in his Fugitice Pieces and Ramirallied him a little on the manner in which some of them niscences of Lord Byron : -“It is most probable, from the had been set to music, -- " Sunburn Nathan!” he exclaims, fervent attachment he felt towards los sister, wbose conn"why do you always twit me with bis Ebrew nasalities? tenance was as beautiful as her disposition was amiable, flave I not told you it was all Kinnaird's doing, and my and the unceasing tenderness with which he seemed on all own exquisite facility of temper?"-L.E.

occasions to view her, that they (the lines in question were (2) “ Neither the ancient Jews," says Dr. Burney, “nor directed to that lady alone. This opinion is much strength. the modern, have ever had characters peculiar to music; ened by the anxiety he betrayed whenever the composition so that the melodies used in their religious ceremonies have, was executed in her presence."--P.E. at all times, been traditional, and at the mercy of the (6) "In the reign of King David, music was held in the singers."-Kalkbrenner tells us, that “les juifs espagnols highest estimation by the Hebrews. The genius of that lisent et chantent leurs psaumes bien differemment que les prince for music, and his attachment to the study and i juifs hollandais, les juifs romains autrement que les juifs practice of it, as well as the great number of musicians de la Prusse et de la Hesse; et tous croient chanter comme appointed by him for the performance of religioas ntes on chantoit dans le Temple de Jerusalem !" - Ilist. de iu and ceremonies, could not fail to extend its influence and | Musique, tom. i. p. 34.-L.E.

augment its perfections: for it was during this period, that (3) These stanzas were written by Lord Byron, on re- music was first honoured by being admitted in the ministry turning from a ball-room, where he had seen Mrs. (now of sacrifice, and worship of the ark; as well as by being Lady) Wilmot Horton, the wife of his relation, the present cultivated by a king." Burney.-L. E. Governor of Ceylon). On this occasion Mrs. H. had appeared (6) "The hymns of David excel no less in sublimity and tenderness of expression, than in loftiness and purity of his Lordship put the copy into my hand, it terminated religious sentiment. In comparison with them, the sacred thus: poctry of all other nations sinks into mediocrity. They have

IF THAT HIGH WORLD. Ir 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 : 'tis 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 !

Weep for the harp 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,
How shall ye flee away and be at rest!
The wild-dove hath her nest, the fox his cave,
Mankind their country- Israel but the grave!

ON JORDAN'S BANKS.
On Jordan's banks the Arab's camels stray,
On Sion's hill the False One's votaries pray,
The Baal-adorer bows on Sinai's steep-
Yet there-even there—0 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-nune living see and not expire !
Oh! in the lightning let thy glance appear;
Sweep from his shiver'd band the appressor's spear.
How long by tyrants shall thy land be trod !
How long thy temple worshipless, O God!

THE WILD GAZELLE.
The wild gazelle on Judah'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 statelier maids are gone!
More blest cach palm that shades those plains

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

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

JEPHTHA'S DAUGHTER. (1)
SINCE our country, our God-O my sire !
Demand that thy daughter expire;
Since thy triumph was bought by thy row,
Strike the bosom that's bared for thee now!
And the voice of my mourning is o'er,
And the mountains behold me no more :
If the hand that I love lay me low,
There cannot be pain in the blow!
And of this, O my father! be sure-
That the blood of thy child is as pure
As the blessing I beg ere it flow,
And the last thought that soothes me below.

OH! WEEP FOR THOSE.
OH! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream,
Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream;

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!

Its sound aspired to heaven, and there abode.' embodied so exquisitely the universal language of religious This however did not complete the verse, and I wished emotion, that (a few fierce and vindictive passages excepted,

him to help out the melody. He replied, Why, I have sent natural in the warrior-poet of a sterner age) they have en you to heaven-it would be difficult to go further! My attered with unquestionable propriety into the Christian ritual. tention for a few moments was called to some other person, The songs which cheered the solitude of the desert caves of and his Lordship. whom I had hardly missed, exclaimedEngedi, or resounded from the voice of the Hebrew people Here, Nathan, I have brought you down again ;'and immeas they wound along the glens or the hill-sides of Judea, diately presented me the beautiful and sublime lines which have been repeated for ages in almost every part of the conclude the melody." Nathan.-P.E. habitable world,-in the remotest islands of the ocean, (1) “Jephtha, a bastard son of Gilead, having been among the forests of America, or the sands of Africa. How wrongfully expelled from his father's house, had taken remany human hearts have they softened, purified, exalted I fuge in a wild country, and become a noted captain of free. -of how many wretched beings bave they been the secret booters. His kindred, groaning under foreign oppression, consolation on how many communities have they drawn began to look to their valiant though lawless compatriot, down the blessings of Divine Providence, by bringing the whose profession, according to their usage, was no more affections in unison with their deep devotional fervour.” dishonourable than that of a pirate in the elder days of Millman.-L. E.

Greece. They sent for him, and made him head of their “The words of this melody have been greatly and de. city. Before he went forth against the Ammonites, he made servedly admired; yet the circumstances that attended the the memorable vow, that, if he returned victorious, he composition of the latter lines may be interesting. When would sacrifice as a burnt-offering whatever first met him

When this blood of thy giving bath gush'd,
When the voice that thou lovest is hush'd,
Let my memory still be thy pride,
And forget not I smiled as I died!

As clouds from yonder sun receive

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

Can banish from the sky,
Those smiles unto the moodiest mind

Their own pare joy impart:
Their sunshine leaves a glow behind

That lightens o'er the heart.

OH! SNATCH'D AWAY IN BEAUTY'S

BLOOM.
Ou ! 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 yon blue gushing stream

Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,
And feed deep thought with many a dream,

And lingering pause and lightly tread;

Fond wretch ! as if her step disturb’d the dead. Away! we know that tears are vain,

That death nor heeds 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, thine eyes are wet.

THY DAYS ARE DONE. Tuy days are done, thy fame begun;

Thy country's strains record
The triumphs of her chosen Son,

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

The freedom he restored!
Though thou art fall'n, while we are free

Thou shalt not taste of death! The generous blood that flow'd from thee

Disdain'd to sink beneath;
Within our veins its currents be,

Thy spirit on our breath!
Thy name, our charging hosts along,

Sball be the battle-word!
Thy fall, the theme of choral song

From virgin voices pour’d!
To weep would do thy glory wrong;

Thou shalt not be deplored.

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

The harp I yet can brook to hear; And let thy gentle fingers Bing

Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear: If in this heart a hope be dear,

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

'T will flow, and cease to burn my brain. 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 heavy heart will burst; For it hath been by sorrow nursed,

And ached in sleepless silence long; Aud now 'tis doom'd to know the worst,

And break at once-or yield to song (1)

SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST

BATTLE. WARRIORS and chiefs! should the shaft or the sword

Pierce me in leading the host of the Lord, | Heed not the corse, though a king's, in your path: Bury your steel in the bosoms of Gath! Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow, Should the soldiers of Saul look away from the foe, Stretch me that moment in blood at thy feet! Mine be the doom which they dared not to meet. Farewell to others, but never we part, Heir to my royalty, son of my heart! Bright is the diadem, boundless the sway, Or kingly the death, which awaits us to-day!

I SAW THEE WEEP. I saw thee weep—the big bright tear

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

A violet dropping dew:
I saw thee smile- the sapphire's blaze

Beside thee ceased to shine;
It could not match the living rays

That filld that glance of thine.

SAUL. (2) Taou whose spell can raise the dead,

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

King, behold the plantom seer!"

Earth yawn'd; he stood the centre of a cloud: Light changed its bue, retiring from his shroud.

on his entrance into his native city. He gained a splendid victory. At the news of it, his only daughter came dancing forth, in the gladness of her beart, and with jocund instru: ments of masic, to salute the deliverer of his people. The miserable father rent bis clothes in agony; but the noble. spirited maiden would not hear of the disregard of the vow: she only demanded a short period to bewail upon the mountains, like the Antigone of Sophocles, her dying with out hope of becoming a bride or mother, and then submitted to her fate.” Millman,-L. E.

(9) “It was generally conceived that Lord Byron's reported singularities approached on some occasions to derangement, and at one period, indeed, it was very currently asserted that

his intellects were actually impaired. The report only served to amuse his Lordship. He referred to the circumstance, and declared that he would try how a madman could write: seizing the pen with eagerness, he for a moment fixed his eyes in majestic wildness on vacancy; when like a flash of inspiration, without erasing a single word, the above verses were the result." Nathan.-P.E.

“ Haunted with that insatiable desire of searching into the secrets of futurity, inseparable from uncivilised man, Saul knew not to what quarter to turn, The priests, outraged by his cruelty, had forsaken him: the prophets stood aloof: no dreams visited his couch; he had persecuted even the unlawful diviners. He hears at last of a female necromancer, a woman with the spirit of Ob; strangely parted spirits to have been the same with that of most similar in sound to the Obeah women in the West Indies. other nations.” Millman.-L.E. To the cave-dwelling of this woman, in Endor, the monarch (1) “ Since we have spoken of witches," said Lord Byron proceeds in disguise. He commands her to raise the spirit 1 at Cephalonia, in 1823, “what think you of the witch of of Samuel. At this daring demand, the woman first recog. Endor? I have always thought this the finest and most nises, or pretends to recognise, her royal visitor. Whom finished witcb-scene that ever was written or conceived ; seest thou ?" says the king.- Mighty ones ascending from and you will be of my opinion, if you consider all the cir. the earth.' - Of what form ?' - An old man covered with cumstances and the actors in the case, together with the a mantle.' Saul, in terror, bows down his head to the gravity, simplicity, and dignity of the language. It beats earth; and, it should seem, not daring to look up, receives all the ghost-scenes I ever read. The finest conception on from the voice of the spectre the awful intimation of his a similar subject is that of Goethe's devil, Mephistopbeles; defeat and death. On the reality of this apparition we pre and though, of course, you will give the priority to the tend not to decide: the figure, if figure there were, was not former, as being inspired, yet the latter, if you know it, will seen by Saul; and, excepting the event of the approaching appear to you-at least it does to me-one of the finest and battle, the spirit said nothing which the living prophet had most sublime specimens of human conception." Kennedy's not said before, repeatedly and publicly. But the fact is Conversations on Religion, etc., with Lord Byron.-L.E. curious, as showing the popular belief of the Jews in de

Death stood all glassy in his fixed eye;
His hand was wither's, and his veins were dry;
His foot, in bony whiteness, glitter'd there,
Shranken and sinewless, and ghastly bare;
From lips that moved not and unbreathing frame,
Like cavern'd winds, the hollow accents came.
Saul saw, and fell to earth, as falls the oak,
At once, and blasted by the thunder-stroke.

"Why is my sleep disquieted ?
Who is he that calls the dead ?
Is it thou, O king? Behold,
Bloodless are these limbs, and cold;
Such are mine; and such shall be
Thine to-morrow when with me;
Ere the coming day is done,
Such shalt thou be, such thy son.
Fare thee well, but for a day,
Then we mix oar mouldering clay.
Thou, thy race, lie pale and low,
Pierced by shafts of many a bow;
And the falchion by thy side
To thy heart thy hand shall guide:
Crownless, breathless, headless fall,
Son and sire, the house of Saul! (1)

WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS

SUFFERING CLAY. · Waen coldness wraps this suffering clay,

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

But leaves its darken'd dust behind.
Then, unembodied, doth 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 recall:
Each fainter trace that memory holds

So darkly of departed years,
In one 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 heaven had birth,

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

Its glance dilate o'er all to be,
While sun is quench'd or system breaks,

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

It lives all passionless and pure:
An age shall fleet like earthly year;

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

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

Forgetting wbat 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 sann'd 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 displays

Would lure me to live over.
There rose no day, there roll'd no hour

Of pleasure unembitter'd;
And not a trapping deck'd my power

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

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

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

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

The soul that must endure it.

VISION OF BELSHAZZAR.
The king was on his throne,

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

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

In Judah deem'd divine
Jehovah's vessels hold

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

The fingers of a hand
Came forth against the wall,

And wrote, as if on sand:

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