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Her mighty enemy at last
A shape of mockery was made:
Her fierce and ancient vengeance she appeased;
And even drew a sigh
Over the ruins vast
Of the deep-hated Latin majesty.
I will not call to mind the horrid sword
The fair neck of the Egyptian Queen around; And I the merciless poison made to flow
Into her breast of snow.
Ere that within the mined cave,
I forced dark Afric's valour stoop Confounded, and its dauntless spirit droop, When to the Carthaginian brave, With mine own hand, the hemlock draught I gave.
Upon the Memphian shore,
Steep'd treasonously in great Pompey's gore; Nor that for rigid Cato's death abhorr'd;
Nor that which in the hand of Brutus wore The first deep colouring of a Cæsar's blood. Nor will I honour thee with thy high mood Of wrath, that kingdoms doth exterminate; Incapable art thou of my great hate,
As my great glories. Therefore shall be thine Of my revenge a slighter sign;
Yet will I make its fearful sound
Hoarse and slow rebound,
Till seem the gentle pipings low
To equal the fierce trumpet's brazen glow."
Then sprang she on her flight,
Upon my cottage did the storms alight,
"And Rome through me the ravenous flame
In the heart of her great rival, Carthage, cast, That went through Libya wandering, a scorn'd shade, Till, sunk to equal shame,
But I, with brow serene,
THE MERRY HEART.
I WOULD not from the wise require
For I have ease, and I have health,
And more than wisdom, more than wealth,-
At once, 't is true, two 'witching eyes
So now from idle wishes clear
I make the good I may not find;
But I, the while, the palace-courts around,
When, all at once, the frantic cry of slaughter
The work of Pallas in her ire!
Then round each waning altar-fire,
THE SLAVE SHIP.
[Founded on the following fact :-"The case of the Rodeur, mentioned by Lord Lansdowne. A dreadful ophthalmia prevailed among the slaves on board this ship, which was communicated to the crew, so that there was but a single man who could see to guide the vessel into port."-Quart. Rev. vol. 26, p. 71.]
OLD, sightless man, unwont art thou, As blind men use, at noon
To sit and sun thy tranquil brow, And hear the birds' sweet tune.
There's something heavy at thy heart,
"If thou didst hear what I could say,
"Twould make thee doubt of grace, And drive me from God's house away, Lest I infect the place."
Say on; there's nought of human sin, Christ's blood may not atone:"
"Thou canst not read what load's within This desperate heart."-" Say on."
"The skies were bright, the seas were calm,
"And merry sang our crew, the cup Was gaily drawn and quaff'd, And when the hollow groan came up From the dark hold, we laugh'd.
"For deep below, and all secure,
Our living freight was laid, And long with ample gain, and sure, We had driven our awful trade.
"They lay, like bales, in stifling gloom,
LOVE Thee!-oh, Thou, the world's eternal Sire!
Hear, ye kings! give ear, ye princes!
I will sound the harp to Jehovah, God of Israel!
Yea, the clouds pour'd down with water:
The blind their eyes, that laugh with light, unclose;
In the days of Shamgar, son of Anath,
They chose new gods:
My soul is yours, ye chiefs of Israel!
Ye that ride upon the snow-white asses;
Love Thee!-oh, clad in human lowliness,
-In whom each heart its mortal kindred knows-
Awake, Deborah! awake!
Awake, uplift the song!
With him a valiant few went down against the mighty, With me Jehovah's people went down against the strong.
First Ephraim, from the Mount of Amalek,
By Reuben's fountains there was deep debating-
And Gilead linger'd on the shores of Jordan-
Came the kings and fought,
Fought the kings of Canaan,
By Tannach, by Megiddo's waters,
For the golden booty that they won not.
From the heavens they fought 'gainst Sisera, In their courses fought the stars against him: The torrent Kishon swept them down,
That ancient river Kishon.
So trample thou, my soul, upon their might.
Then stamp'd the clattering hoofs of prancing horses At the flight, at the flight of the mighty.
Curse ye Meroz, saith the angel of the Lord, Curse, a twofold curse upon her dastard sons; For they came not to the succour of Jehovah, To the succour of Jehovah 'gainst the mighty.
Above all women blest be Jael,
Heber the Kenite's wife,
O'er all the women blest, that dwell in tents.
Water he ask'd-she gave him milk, The curded milk, in her costliest bowl.
Her left hand to the nail she set,
Her right hand to the workman's hammer-
From the window she look'd forth, she cried,
A many-coloured robe, and richly broider'd,
Thus perish all thine enemies, Jehovah;
*In the above translation an attempt is made to preserve something like a rhythmical flow. It adheres to the original language, excepting where an occasional word is, but rarely,
inserted, for the sake of perspicuity.