FROM THE HEBREW.
My soul, adore the Lord of might;
With uncreated glory crown'd
And clad in royalty of light,
He draws the curtain'd heavens around;
Dark waters his pavilion form,
Clouds are his car, his wheels the storm.
Lightning before him, and behind
Thunder rebounding to and fro;
He walks upon the winged wind,
And reins the blast, or lets it go:
This goodly globe his wisdom plann'd,
He fix'd the bounds of sea and land.
When o'er a guilty world, of old,
He summon'd the avenging main,
At his rebuke the billows roll'd
Back to their parent-gulf again :
The mountains raised their joyful heads,
Like new creations, from their beds.
Henceforth the self-revolving tide
Its daily fall and flow maintains;
Through winding vales fresh fountains glide,
Leap from the hills, or course the plains;
There thirsty cattle throng the brink,
And the wild asses bend to drink.
Fed by the currents, fruitful groves
Expand their leaves, their fragrance fling,
Where the cool breeze at noontide roves,
And birds among the branches sing;
Soft fall the showers when day declines, And sweet the peaceful rainbow shines. Grass through the meadows, rich with flowers, God's bounty spreads for herds and flocks; On Lebanon his cedar towers,
The wild goats bound upon his rocks;
Fowls in his forests build their nests,
The stork amid the pinetree rests.
To strengthen man, condemn'd to toil,
He fills with grain the golden ear;
Bids the ripe olive melt with oil,
And swells the grape, man's heart to cheer:
The moon her tide of changing knows,
Her orb with lustre ebbs and flows.
The sun goes down, the stars come out;
He maketh darkness, and 'tis night;
Then roam the beasts of prey about,
The desert rings with chase and flight:
The lion and the lion's brood
Look up-and God provides them food.
Morn dawns far east; ere long the sun
Warms the glad nations with his beams;
Day, in their dens, the spoilers shun,
And night returns to them in dreams :
Man from his couch to labour goes,
Till evening brings again repose.
How manifold thy works, O Lord,
In wisdom, power, and goodness wrought!
The earth is with thy riches stored,
And ocean with thy wonders fraught:
Unfathom'd caves beneath the deep
For Thee their hidden treasures keep.
There go the ships, with sails unfurl'd,
By Thee directed on their way;
There in his own mysterious world,
Leviathan delights to play,
And tribes that range immensity,
Unknown to man, are known to Thee.
By Thee alone the living live;
Hide but thy face, their comforts fly;
They gather what thy seasons give;
Take Thou away their breath, they die.
Send forth thy Spirit from above,
And all is life again, and love.
Joy in his works Jehovah takes,
Yet to destruction they return;
He looks upon the earth, it quakes;
Touches the mountains, and they burn;
Thou, God, for ever art the same:
I AM is thine unchanging name.
SABLA, thou saw'st the' exulting foe
In fancied triumphs crown'd;
Thou heardst their frantic females throw
These galling taunts around:
Make now your choice-the terms we give,
Desponding victims, hear:
These fetters on your hands receive,
Or in your hearts the spear.'
And is the conflict o'er (we cried),
And lie we at your feet?
And dare you vauntingly decide
The fortune we must meet?
A brighter day we soon shall see,
Though now the prospect lours;
And conquest, peace, and liberty
Shall gild our future hours.'
The foe advanced :-in firm array
We rush'd o'er Sabla's sands,
And the red sabre mark'd our way
Amidst their yielding bands.
Then, as they writhed in death's cold grasp,
We cried,' Our choice is made:
These hands the sabre's hilt shall clasp;
Your hearts shall have the blade.'
BEHOLD, a profligate his race hath run,
And poor old Cassim mourns his lifeless son;
He weeps, for the deceased hath left a brother;
Go, Death, go dry his tears, and take the other.
TO A LADY WEEPING.
FROM THE ARABIC.
WHEN I beheld thy blue eye shine
Through the bright drop that pity drew,
I saw beneath those tears of thine
A blue-eyed violet bathed in dew.
The violet ever scents the gale,
Its hues adorn the fairest wreath,
But sweetest through a dewy veil
Its colours glow, its odours breathe.
And thus thy charms in brightness rise—
When wit and pleasure round thee play,
When mirth sits smiling in thine eyes,
Who but admires their sprightly ray?
But when through pity's flood they gleam,
Who but must love their soften'd beam?
FAIR traveller of the pathless air,
To Zara's bowers these accents bear,
Hid in the shade of palmy groves,
And tell her where her wanderer roves !
But spread, O spread your pinion blue,
To guard my lines from rain and dew:
And when my charming fair you see,
A thousand kisses bear from me,
And softly murmur in her ear
How much I wish that I were near.
TO A FEMALE CUPBEARER.
FROM THE ARABIC.
COME, Leila, fill the goblet up,
Reach round the rosy wine;
Think not that we will take the cup
From any hand but thine.
|