The Son of the Unnamed, the Everlasting, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. H Rama. THE VOICE OF RAMA. EARD ye, from Rama's ruined walls, That voice of bitter weeping! Is it the moan of fettered slave, His watch of sorrow keeping? Heard ye, from Rama's wasted plains, That cry of lamentation! Is it the wail of Israel's sons, For Salem's devastation? Ah, no, a sorer ill than chains And deeper woe than Salem's fall 'Tis Rachel, of her sons bereft, O, who shall tell what fearful pangs As o'er her infant's little grave From many an eye that weeps to-day But she, her precious babe is not! And what remains but sorrow? Bereavéd one! I may not chide Thy tears and bitter sobbing, - To whom no hope is given, Snatched from the world, its sins and snares, Thy infant rests in heaven. George Washington Doane. Samaria (Sebaste). RUINS OF SEBASTE. UT seek ye ruins? Pilgrim, raise thine eye, 'Tis Herod's city, built where Israel reared lie? Calm on their tops the raven folds his wing, And round their base long grass and thistles spring: But Christian relics, too, are rising near; Reluctant yield to Time's o'erwhelming power; With Christian shrines thus decked this sainted land; As amaranths now adorn thine angel head. Nicholas Michell. SHECHEM (NABLOUS). — SILOAM, THE POOL OF. 227 Shechem (Nablous). SHECHEM. ET hallowed be the land where Joseph sleeps, YET And Jacob's Well, tradition guards and keeps. Where incense rolled, and priests were wont to pray, Nicholas Michell. Siloam, the Pool of. THE POOL OF SILOAM. END o'er the waste where now no floweret springs, WEND But bloomed of yore the "Garden of the Kings"; Ye reach an opening pierced in Ophel's side, While high beyond the huge mosque lifts its pride,"T is cool Siloam's fount; when palms grew round, Here Jewish minstrels woke their harps' sweet sound, And Hebrew sages, on these rocks reclined, Taught listening crowds, and scattered pearls of mind, This rugged path the blessed Apostles trod, Beneath yon arch once stood their King, their God; And here the wretch whose eyes were sealed in night, At Mercy's word received the gift of sight. Now, on these steps worn smooth by countless feet, Nicholas Michell. 66 GET Sodom and Gomorrah. THE CITIES OF THE PLAIN. ET ye up from the wrath of God's terrible day! 'Tis the vintage of blood, 't is the fulness of time, And vengeance shall gather the harvest of crime ! " |