HEBREW MELODIES. SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY. 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 mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent! THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT. THE harp the monarch minstrel swept, O'er tones her heart of hearts had given, 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 gladdened 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 spirits soar To sounds that seem as from above, In dreams that day's broad light cannot remove. JEPHTHA'S DAUGHTER. SINCE Our Country, our God — Oh, my sire! Demand that thy Daughter expire; Since thy triumph was bought by thy vow Strike the bosom that's bared for thee now; And the voice of my mourning is o'er, And of this, oh, my Father! be sure Though the virgins of Salem lament, Be the judge and the hero unbent! I have won the great battle for thee, When this blood of thy giving hath gushed, When the voice that thou lovest is hushed, Let my memory still be thy pride, And forget not I smiled as I died! 18 THE WILD GAZELLE. THE wild gazelle on Judah's hills 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, The cedars wave on Lebanon, But Judah's statelier maids are gone. : More blest each palm that shades those plains Than Israel's scattered 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 father's ashes be, Our own may never lie: Our temple hath not left a stone, And Mockery sits on Salem's throne. |