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1. If 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 tears
How welcome those untrodden spheres !

How sweet this very hour to die !
To soar from earth and find all fears

Lost in thy light-Eternity!

2. 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 !


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:-

2. 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!

3. More blest each 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 stove,
And Mockery sits on Salem's throne.


1. OH! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream, Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream; Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell; Mourn—where their God hath dwelt the Godless


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?

3. Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast, How shall

flee away

and be at rest! The wild-dove hath her nest, the fox his cave, Mankind their country-Israel but the grave!

VOL.. V.


1. On Jordan's banks the Arabs' camels stray, On Sion's hill the False One's votaries pray, The Baal-adorer bows on Sinai's steepYet there-even there-Oh God! thy thunders sleep :

2. 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—none living see and not expire!

3. Oh! in the lightning let thy glance appear! Sweep from his shiver'd hand the oppressor's spear: How long by tyrants shall thy land be trod! How long thy temple worshipless, Oh God!

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