By Eden promised, ere he died, To the felon at his side;
Lord! our suppliant knees we bow : Son of God! 'tis Thou!-'tis Thou!
Bound upon the accursed tree, Sad and dying, who is He? By the last and bitter cry; The ghost given up in agony; By the lifeless body, laid In the chamber of the dead; By the mourners come to weep Where the bones of Jesus sleep; Crucified! We know Thee now: Son of man! 'tis Thou !-'tis Thou!
Bound upon the accursed tree, Dread and awful, who is He?
prayer for them that slew, "Lord, they know not what they do!"
By the spoil'd and empty grave; By the souls he died to save; By the conquest he hath won; By the saints before his throne; By the rainbow round his brow : Son of God! 'tis Thou!-'tis Thou!
EVE'S LAMENT ON HER EXPULSION FROM PARADISE.
O UNEXPECTED stroke, worse than of death! Must I thus leave thee, Paradise ?—thus leave Thee, native soil! these happy walks and shades, Fit haunt of gods? where I had hope to spend, Quiet though sad, the respite of that day That must be mortal to us both. O flowers, That never will in other climate grow, My early visitation, and my last
At eve, which I bred up with tender hand, From the first op'ning bud, and gave ye names ! Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank
Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount? Thee lastly, nuptial bower! by me adorn'd With what to sight or smell was sweet! from thee How shall I part, and whither wander down
Into a lower world, to this obscure
how shall we breathe in other air
Less pure, accustom'd to immortal fruits?
ROLL on, thou deep and dark blue ocean-roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin-his control Stops with the shore; upon the watery plain. The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When, for a moment, like a drop of rain,
He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknell'd, uncoffin'd, and unknown.
His steps are not upon thy paths,-thy fields Are not a spoil for him,-thou dost arise
And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction, thou dost all despise,
Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, shiv'ring, in thy playful spray, And howling, to his gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay,
And dashest him again to earth: there let him lay.
The armaments which thunder-strike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, And monarchs tremble in their capitals; The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make
Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war; These are thy toys, and as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee— Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they? Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts :—not so thou, Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' playTime writes no wrinkle on thy azure browSuch as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.
Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Russ,
When thou wouldst build, no quarry sent its stores T'enrich thy walls: but thou didst hew the floods, And make thy marble of the glassy wave.
Silently as a dream the fabric rose ;
No sound of hammer or of saw was there :
Ice upon ice, the well-adjusted parts Were soon conjoin'd; nor other cement ask'd Than water interfused to make them one.
Lamps gracefully disposed, and of all hues, Illumined every side: a wat'ry light
Gleam'd through the clear transparency, that seem'd Another moon new-risen, or meteor fall'n
From heaven to earth, of harmless flame serene. So stood the brittle prodigy; though smooth And slipp'ry the materials, yet frost-bound Firm as a rock. Nor wanted aught within That royal residence might well befit
For grandeur or for use. Long wavy wreaths Of flowers, that fear'd no enemy but warmth, Blush'd on the pannels. Mirror needed none Where all was glassy; but in order due Convivial table and commodious seat
(What seem'd at least commodious seat) were there, Sofa, and couch, and high-built throne august. The same lubricity was found in all,
And all was moist to the warm touch; a scene Of evanescent glory, once a stream,
And soon to slide into a stream again.
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