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THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL
The 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!
them virtues not their own; No ear so dull, no soul so cold,
That felt not, fired not to the tone,
It told the triumphs of our King,
It wafted glory to our God;
The cedars bow, the mountains nod;
Since then, though heard on earth no more,
Devotion and her daughter Love
To sounds that seem as from above,
IF THAT HIGH WORLD.
If that high world, which lies beyond
Our own, surviving Love endears; If there the cherish'd heart be fond,
same, except in tearsHow welcome those untrodden spheres ! How sweet this
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 !
THE WILD GAZELLE.
The wild gazelle on Judah's hills
Exulting yet may bound,
That gush on holy ground;
A step as fleet, an eye more bright,
Hath Judah witness'd there;
Inhabitants more fair.
More blest each palm that shades those plains
Than Israel's scatter'd race;
For, taking root, it there remains
In solitary grace :
But we must wander witheringly,
In other lands to die;
Our own may never lie: