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Had been an act of purer fame
But thou forsooth must be a king,
Where may the wearied eye repose
Yes-one-the first-the last-the best-
Whom envy dared not hate,
STANZAS FOR MUSIC
I SPEAK not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name, There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame : But the tear which now burns on my cheek may impart The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart.
Too brief for our passion, too long for our peace, Were those hours-can their joy or their bitterness cease? We repent, we abjure, we will break from our chain,— We will part, we will fly to-unite it again!
Oh! thine be the gladness, and mine be the guilt!
With thee by my side, than with worlds at our feet.
BELSHAZZAR! from the banquet turn,
Crown'd and anointed from on high;
Is it not written, thou must die?
Grey hairs but poorly wreathe with them;
Where thou hast tarnish'd every gem :-
And ever light of word and worth,
The subsequent poems were written at the request of my friend, the Hon. Douglas Kinnaird, for a Selection of Hebrew Melodies, and have been published, with the music, arranged by Mr. Braham and Mr. Nathan.
SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY
SHE walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
Meet in her aspect and her eyes :
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
A heart whose love is innocent!
THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT
THE harp the monarch minstrel swept,
The King of men, the loved of Heaven, Which Music hallow'd while she wept
O'er tonés 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 wafted 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 remove.
IF THAT HIGH WORLD
IF that high world, which lies beyond
The eye the same, except in tears-
It must be so: 'tis not for self
That we so tremble on the brink;
Yet cling to Being's severing link.
Oh! in that future let us think
To hold each heart the heart that shares ;
THE WILD GAZELLE
THE wild gazelle on Judah's hills
A step as fleet, an eye more bright,
The cedars wave on Lebanon,
But Judah's statelier maids are gone!
More blest each palm that shades those plains
For, taking root, it there remains
In solitary grace:
It cannot quit its place of birth,
But we must wander witheringly,
And where our fathers' ashes be,
Our temple hath not left a stone,