'SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY' SHE walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; One shade the more, one ray the less, And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, A heart whose love is innocent! 'OH! SNATCH'D AWAY IN BEAUTY'S BLOOM' OH! snatch'd away in beauty's bloom, On thee shall press no ponderous tomb; But on thy turf shall roses rear 10 Their leaves, the earliest of the year; And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom: Eternal, boundless, undecay'd, A thought unseen, but seeing all, Before Creation peopled earth, Its eye shall roll through chaos back; And where the furthest heaven had birth, And where the future mars or makes, Above or Love, Hope, Hate, or Fear, An age shall fleet like earthly year, Away, away, without a wing, ΤΟ 20 O'er all, through all, its thought shall fly; A nameless and eternal thing, Forgetting what it was to die. 30 VISION OF BELSHAZZAR THE King was on his throne, The godless Heathen's wine! In that same hour and hall, A solitary hand And traced them like a wand. The monarch saw, and shook, And bade no more rejoice; All bloodless wax'd his look, And tremulous his voice. 'Let the men of lore appear, The wisest of the earth, And expound the words of fear, Which mar our royal mirth.' Chaldea's seers are good, But here they have no skill; Are wise and deep in lore; A captive in the land, A stranger and a youth, He heard the king's command, He saw that writing's truth. The lamps around were bright, The prophecy in view; He read it on that night, The morrow proved it true. 'Belshazzar's grave is made, His kingdom pass'd away, He, in the balance weigh'd, Is light and worthless clay; The shroud, his robe of state, His canopy the stone: The Mede is at his gate! The Persian on his throne!' 'Let the chamber be clear'd.' The train disappear'd 'Now call me the chief of the Haram guard.' With Giaffir is none but his only son, And the Nubian awaiting the sire's award. 'Haroun - when all the crowd that wait Are pass'd beyond the outer gate (Woe to the head whose eye beheld My child Zuleika's face unveil'd !), Hence, lead my daughter from her tower; Her fate is fix'd this very hour: 'Pacha! to hear is to obey.' No more must slave to despot say 40 First lowly rendering reverence meet; And downcast look'd, and gently spake, Still standing at the Pacha's feet: For son of Moslem must expire, Ere dare to sit before his sire! 50 81 'Son of a slave,' the Pacha said, 'From unbelieving mother bred, Vain were a father's hope to see Aught that beseems a man in thee. Thou, when thine arm should bend the bow, And hurl the dart, and curb the steed, Thou, Greek in soul if not in creed, Must pore where babbling waters flow, And watch unfolding roses blow. Would that yon orb, whose matin glow Thy listless eyes so much admire, Would lend thee something of his fire! Thou, who wouldst see this battlement By Christian cannon piecemeal rent; Nay, tamely view old Stambol's wall Before the dogs of Moscow fall, 91 Nor strike one stroke for life and death Against the curs of Nazareth! |