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"For heaven is parted from thee, and the earth
"Knows thee not, thus afflicted, for a God;
"And ocean too, with all its solemn noise,
"Has from thy sceptre passed; and all the air
"Is emptied of thine hoary majesty.

"Thy thunder, conscious of the new command,
"Rumbles reluctant o'er our fallen house;
"And thy sharp lightning in unpractised hands
"Scorches and burns our once serene domain.
"O aching time! O moments big as years!
"All as ye pass swell out the monstrous truth,
"And press it so upon our weary griefs
"That unbelief has not a space to breathe.
"Saturn, sleep on :-O thoughtless, why did I
"Thus violate thy slumbrous solitude?
"Why should I ope thy melancholy eyes?
"Saturn, sleep on! while at thy feet I weep."

As when, upon a tranced summer-night,
Those green-robed senators of mighty woods,
Tall oaks, branch-charmed by the earnest stars,
Dream, and so dream all night without a stir,
Save from one gradual solitary gust

Which comes upon the silence, and dies off,
As if the ebbing air had but one wave;

So came these words and went; the while in tears
She touched her fair large forehead to the ground,

*

It was Hyperion :—a granite peak

His bright feet touched, and there he staid to view
The misery his brilliance had betrayed

To the most hateful seeing of itself.
Golden his hair of short Numidian curl,
Regal his shape majestic, a vast shade
In midst of his own brightness, like the bulk
Of Memnon's image at the set of sun
To one who travels from the dusking East:
Sighs, too, as mournful as that Memnon's harp
He uttered, while his hands contemplative
He pressed together, and in silence stood.

MILLMAN.

FROM "THE FALL OF JERUSALEM."

OH Thou! thou who canst melt the heart of stone, And make the desert of the cruel breast

A paradise of soft and gentle thoughts!
Ah! will it ever be, that thou wilt visit

The darkness of my father's soul? Thou knowest
In what strong bondage zeal and ancient faith,
Passion and stubborn Custom, and fierce Pride,
Hold the heart of man. Thou knowest, Merciful!
That knowest all things, and dost ever turn
Thine eye of pity on our guilty nature:

For thou wert born of woman! thou didst come
Oh Holiest to this world of sin and gloom,
Not in thy dread omnipotent array;
And not by thunders strewed
Was thy tempestuous road;

Nor indignation burnt before thee on thy way.
But thee, a soft and naked child,
Thy mother undefiled.

In the rude manger laid to rest

From off her virgin breast.

The heavens were not commanded to prepare

A gorgeous canopy of golden air;

Nor stooped their lamps th' enthroned fires on high: A single silent star

Came wandering from afar,

Gliding unchecked and calm along the liquid sky;
The Eastern sages leading on

As at a kingly throne,

To lay their gold and odours sweet

Before thy infant feet.

The earth and ocean were not hushed to hear
Bright harmony from every starry sphere;
Nor at thy presence brake the voice of song
From all the cherub choirs,

And seraph's burning lyres

[along.

Poured through the host of heaven the charmed clouds One angel troop the strain began,

Of all the race of man

By simple shepherds heard alone,
That soft Hosanna's tone.

And when thou didst depart, no car of flame
To bear thee hence in lambent radiance came;
Nor visible Angels mourned with drooping plumes:
Nor didst thou mount on high

From fatal Calvary

[tombs

With all thine own redeemed outbursting from their

For thou didst bear away from earth

But one of human birth,

The dying felon by thy side, to be
In paradise with thee.

Nor o'er thy cross the clouds of vengeance brake;
A little while the conscious earth did shake
At that foul deed by her fierce children done;
A few dim hours of day

The world in darkness lay;

Then basked in bright repose beneath the cloudless sun.
While thou didst sleep beneath the tomb,
Consenting to thy doom;

Ere yet the white robed Angel shone
Upon the sealed stone.

And when thou didst arise, thou didst not stand
With devastation in thy red right hand,
Plaguing the guilty city's murtherous crew;
But thou didst haste to meet

Thy mother's coming feet,

And bear the words of peace unto the faithful few.
Then calmly, slowly didst thou rise

Into thy native skies;

Thy human form dissolved on high
In its own radiancy.

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