* Minutes of Evidence, 1831, p. 197.

FEMALE CHARACTERS OF SCRIPTURE, CONTINUED.

BY MRS HEMANS.

VII.

THE ANNUNCIATION.

LOWLIEST of women, and most glorified!
In thy still beauty sitting calm and lone,
A brightness round thee grew-and by thy side,
Kindling the air, a Form ethereal shone,

Solemn, yet breathing gladness.-From her Throne
A Queen had risen with more imperial eye,
A stately Prophetess of Victory

From her proud Lyre had struck a Tempest's tone, For such high tidings as to Thee were brought,

Chosen of Heaven! that hour :-but Thou, oh! Thou, Ev'n as a flower with gracious rains o'erfraught, Thy Virgin head beneath its crown didst bow, And take to thy meek breast th' all holy word, And own Thyself the Handmaid of the Lord.

VIII.

THE SONG OF THE VIRGIN.

YES, as a sun-burst flushing mountain-snow,
Fell the celestial touch of fire ere long
On the pale stillness of thy thoughtful brow,
And thy calm spirit lightened into song.
Unconsciously perchance, yet free and strong
Flowed the majestic joy of tuneful words,

Which living harps the quires of Heaven among
Might well have linked with their divinest chords.
Full many a strain, borne far on glory's blast,
Shall leave, where once its haughty music pass'd,

No more to memory than a reed's faint sigh; While thine, O childlike Virgin! through all time Shall send its fervent breath o'er every clime, Being of God, and therefore not to die.

IX.

THE PENITENT ANOINTING CHRIST'S FEET.

THERE was a mournfulness in Angel eyes,

That saw thee, Woman! bright in this world's train, Moving to Pleasure's airy melodies,

Thyself the Idol of the enchanted strain.

But from thy Beauty's garland, brief and vain,
When one by one the rose-leaves had been torn,
When thy heart's-core had quivered to the pain
Through every life-nerve sent by arrowy scorn;
When thou didst kneel to pour sweet odours forth
On the Redeemer's feet, with many a sigh,
And showering tear-drop, of yet richer worth
Than all those costly balms of Araby;

Then was there joy, a song of joy in Heaven,

For thee, the child won back, the penitent forgiven!

X.

MARY AT THE FEET OF CHRIST.

OH! blest beyond all Daughters of the Earth!
What were the Orient's thrones to that low seat,
Where thy hushed spirit drew celestial mirth?
Mary! meek Listener at the Saviour's feet!
No feverish cares to that divine retreat
Thy woman's heart of silent worship brought,
But a fresh childhood, heavenly Truth to meet,
With Love, and Wonder, and submissive, Thought.
Oh! for the holy quiet of thy breast,

Midst the world's eager tones and footsteps flying! Thou, whose calm soul was like a well-spring, lying So deep and still in its transparent rest,

That ev'n when Noontide burns upon the hills, Some one bright solemn Star all its lone mirror fills.

XI.

THE SISTERS OF BETHANY AFTER THE DEATH OF LAZARUS.

ONE grief, one faith, O sisters of the Dead!

Was in your bosoms-thou, whose steps, made fleet By keen hope fluttering in the hearts which bled, Bore thee, as wings, the Lord of Life to greet; And thou, that duteous in thy still retreat Didst wait his summons-then with reverent love Fall weeping at the blest Deliverer's feet, Whom ev'n to heavenly tears thy woe could move. And which to Him, the All-seeing and All-just, Was loveliest, that quick zeal, or lowly trust? Oh! question not, and let no law be given To those unveilings of its deepest shrine, By the wrung spirit made in outward sign: Free service from the heart is all in all to Heaven.

XII.

THE MEMORIAL OF MARY.

THOU hast thy record in the Monarch's hall;
And on the waters of the far mid sea;
And where the mighty mountain-shadows fall,
The Alpine hamlet keeps a thought of thee:
Where'er, beneath some Oriental tree,

The Christian traveller rests,-where'er the child
Looks upward from the English mother's knee,
With earnest eyes in wondering reverence mild,
There art thou known ;-where'er the Book of Light
Bears hope and healing, there, beyond all blight,
Is borne thy memory, and all praise above:
Oh! say what deed so lifted thy sweet name,
Mary to that pure silent place of Fame?
One lowly offering of exceeding Love.

XIII.

THE WOMEN OF JERUSALEM AT THE CROSS.

LIKE those pale stars of tempest-hours, whose gleam
Waves calm and constant on the rocking mast,
Such by the Cross doth your bright lingering seem,
Daughters of Zion! faithful to the last!

Ye, through the darkness o'er the wide earth cast
By the death-cloud within the Saviour's eye,
Ev'n till away the Heavenly Spirit pass'd,
Stood in the shadow of his agony.

O blessed Faith! a guiding lamp, that hour,

Was lit for Woman's heart; to her, whose dower

Is all of love and suffering from her birth:

Still hath your act a voice-through fear, through strife, Bidding her bind each tendril of her life,

To that which her deep soul hath owned of holiest worth.

XIV.

MARY MAGDALENE AT THE SEPULCHRE.

WEEPER to thee how bright a Morn was given,
After thy long, long vigil of Despair,

When that high voice which burial-rocks had riven,
Thrilled with immortal tones the silent air!
Never did clarion's royal blast declare
Such tale of victory to a breathless crowd,
As the deep sweetness of one word could bear
Into thy heart of hearts, O woman! bowed
By strong affection's anguish !-one low word-

Mary!"-and all the triumph wrung from Death
Was thus revealed! and Thou, that so hadst err'd,
So wept, and been forgiven, in trembling faith
Didst cast thee down before th' all conquering Son,
Awed by the mighty gift thy tears and love had won!

XV.

MARY MAGDALENE BEARING TIDINGS OF THE RESURRECTION.

THEN was a task of glory all thine own,

Nobler than e'er the still small voice assigned

To lips, in awful music making known

The stormy splendours of some Prophet's mind. "Christ is arisen!"-By thee, to wake mankind, First from the Sepulchre those words were brought! Thou wert to send the mighty rushing wind First on its way, with those high tidings fraught"Christ is arisen !"—Thou, thou, the sin-enthralled, Earth's outcast, Heaven's own ransomed one, wert called In human hearts to give that rapture birth :Oh! raised from shame to brightness!-there doth lie The tenderest meaning of His ministry,

Whose undespairing Love still owned the Spirit's worth.

ANTWERP.

IT sinks at last, that banner, which to raise
The dauntless seaman clombe aloft in vain,*
And heedless of the bomb's descending blaze,
Or thickest volley'd grapeshot's iron rain,
Nail'd to the staff his country's flag again:

Careless of limb or life's adventured loss
As he who, from the high mast-head of Spain,
Bore off the ensign she had dared to toss
On free-born Zealand's gale, the red Burgundian cross.

Who that surveys the scene may rightly spell
What various feelings every bosom sway,
When forth from Antwerp's shattered citadel
Its stern defenders sadly take their way?
Sadly but proudly. While in mute array

The bands of France receive them; not with hail
Of shout or scoff, but as the brave who pay

That reverence which the brave can never fail
To yield where valour sinks, by fortune forced to quail.

Yes, ye do well, who view that scene, to bare

The head, like those who round an unfilled grave
In reverence crowd. And that France does not spare
The victor's honours to the vanquish'd brave:
More honours France, than all that numbers gave
Of triumph to her else successless bands-

Insult and scorn befit the Belgian slave

Who sheathed his sword of lath, while foreign brands

Won from the free the soil where now that slave commands.

Disarmed, but not dishonoured, to the shore

Forth from their ruined ramparts as they file,

The spirits of their fathers who upbore

Their country's sinking weight, when force and guile
Were leagued as now against her, watch the while,
Tracing their progress; o'er the ruin made

In Alva's towers, the chiefs of Nassau smile,†
While on the Tuscan artist's esplanade,

Sire of his country, stalks the silent hero's shade.‡

Vide General Chassé's dispatch. The feat alluded to in the concluding lines of the stanza, was twice performed by a Dutch seaman in the war of independence. Once in the action in the Zuyderzee, in which Bossû, admiral of the Spanish and Belgian fleet, was defeated and taken, and afterwards in an action of equal importance in the Scheldt. The ensign of the Spanish fleets, at this period, was the red cross of Burgundy.

+ It is hardly necessary to state that the citadel of Antwerp was originally constructed by Alva. The engineer Paciotto or Pacheco, who planned its defences, had followed Alva from Savoy, having been lent by the reigning Duke of that state, in whose service Alva found him, for the purpose of the expedition to the Netherlands. It is said that he was nearly related to Alva. His fate is alluded to in a subsequent stanza and note.

William of Nassau, the great founder of the Dutch Republic, was notorious for the steadfast taciturnity with which he matured in his own bosom his schemes for the salvation of his country. The difficulties with which he had to contend, and his repeated failures in his attempts to cope with the superior power of Spain by land, are so well known, that it is unnecessary to confirm the allusions of the text by detailed reference to history.