We pressed the virtue; no terrestrial balm
Nature's dissolving agony could calm.
Thus, as the day declined, the fell disease
Eclipsed the light of life by slow degrees;
Yet while his pangs grew sharper, more resigned,
More self-collected grew the sufferer's mind;
Patient of heart, though racked at every pore,
The righteous penalty of sin he bore;
Not his the fortitude that mocks at pains,
But that which feels them most, and yet sustains.
""Tis just, 't is merciful," we heard him say;
"Yet wherefore hath he turned his face away?
I see him not; I hear him not; I call;
My God! my God! support me, or I fall."
The sun went down, amidst an angry glare
Of flushing clouds, that crimsoned all the air;
The winds brake loose; the forest boughs were torn,
And dark aloof the eddying foliage borne;
Cattle to shelter scudded in affright;
The florid evening vanished into night:
Then burst the hurricane upon the vale,
In peals of thunder, and thick-vollied hail;
Prone rushing rains with torrents whelm'd the land,
Our cot amidst a river seemed to stand;
Around its base, the foamy-crested streams
Flashed through the darkness to the lightning's gleams; With monstrous throes an earthquake heaved the ground; The rocks were rent, the mountains trembled round; Never since nature into being came,
Had such mysterious motion shook her frame;
We thought, ingulfed in floods, or wrapt in fire,
The world itself would perish with our sire.
Amidst this war of elements within
More dreadful grew the sacrifice for sin,
Whose victim on his bed of torture lay,
Breathing the slow remains of life away.
Erewhile, victorious faith sublimer rose
Beneath the pressure of collected woes:
But now his spirit wavered, went and came,
Like the loose vapor of departing flame,
Till at the point, when comfort seemed to die
For ever in his fixed unclosing eye,
Bright through the smouldering ashes of the man,
The saint broke forth, and Adam thus began:
"O ye that shudder at this awful strife,
This wrestling agony of death and life,
Think not that He, on whom my soul is cast,
Will leave me thus forsaken to the last;
Nature's infirmity alone you see;
My chains are breaking, I shall soon be free;
Though firm in God the spirit holds her trust,
The flesh is frail, and trembles into dust.
Horror and anguish seize me;- -'t is the hour
Of darkness, and I mourn beneath its power;
The Tempter plies me with his direst art,
I feel the Serpent coiling round my heart;
He stirs the wound he once inflicted there,
Instils the deadening poison of despair,
Belies the truth of God's delaying grace,
And bids me curse my Maker to his face.
I will not curse Him, though his grace delay;
I will not cease to trust Him, though he slay;
Full on his promised mercy I rely,
For God hath spoken, God, who cannot lie.
Thou of my faith the Author and the End!
Mine early, late, and everlasting friend!
The joy, that once thy presence gave, restore
Ere I am summoned hence, and seen no more:
Down to the dust returns this earthly frame;
Receive my spirit, Lord! from whom it came;
Rebuke the Tempter, show thy power to save,
O let thy glory light me to the grave,
That these, who witness my departing breath,
May learn to triumph in the grasp of death.”
He closed his eyelids with a tranquil smile,
And seemed to rest in silent
prayer
awhile:
Around his couch with filial awe we kneeled,
When suddenly a light from heaven revealed
A spirit, that stood within the unopened door;
The sword of God in his right hand he bore;
His countenance was lightning, and his vest
Like snow at sunrise on the mountain's crest;
Yet so benignly beautiful his form,
His presence stilled the fury of the storm;
At once the winds retire, the waters cease;
His look was love, his salutation, "Peace!"
Our mother first beheld him, sore amazed,
But terror grew to transport, while she gazed:
""Tis he, the Prince of Seraphim, who drove
Our banished feet from Eden's happy grove;
Adam, my life, my spouse, awake!" she cried;
"Return to Paradise; behold thy guide!
O let me follow in this dear embrace!
!"
She sank, and on his bosom hid her face.
Transformed into an angel's at the view:
Adam looked up; his visage changed its hue,
"I come!" he cried, with faith's full triumph fired, And in a sigh of ecstasy expired.
The light was vanished, and the vision fled;
We stood alone, the living with the dead;
The ruddy embers, glimmering round the room,
Displayed the corse amidst the solemn gloom;
But o'er the scene a holy calm reposed,
The gate of heaven had opened there, and closed.
Eve's faithful arm still clasped her lifeless spouse;
Gently I shook it, from her trance to rouse;
She gave no answer; motionless and cold,
It fell like clay from my relaxing hold;
Alarmed, I lifted up the locks of grey
That hid her cheek; her soul had passed away:
A beauteous corse she graced her partner's side ;
Love bound their lives, and death could not divide.
Trembling astonishment of grief we felt,
Till Nature's sympathies began to melt;
We wept in stillness through the long, dark night,
And oh how welcome was the morning light!
From "The Fall of Jerusalem."-MILMAN.
To-morrow! will that to-morrow dawn upon thee?
I've warned them, I have lifted up my voice,
As loud as 't were an angel's, and well nigh
Had I betrayed my secret: they but scoffed,
And asked how long I had been a prophetess?
Then that injurious John did foully taunt me,
As though I envied my lost sister's bridal;
And when I clung to my dear father's neck,
With the close fondness of a last embrace,
He shook me from him.
But, ah me! how strange!
This moment, and the hurrying streets were full
As at a festival; now all's so silent,
That I might hear the footsteps of a child.
The sound of dissolute mirth hath ceased, the lamps
Are spent, the voice of music broken off.
No watchman's tread comes from the silent wall,
There are nor lights nor voices in the towers.
The hungry have given up their idle search
For food, the gazers on the heavens are gone;
Even Fear's at rest- - all still as in a sepulchre!
And thou liest sleeping, O Jerusalem!
A deeper slumber could not fall upon thee,
If thou wert desolate of all thy children,
And thy razed strects a dwelling-place for owls.
I do mistake! this is the Wilderness,
The Desert, where winds pass and make no sound,
And not the populous city, the besieged
And overhung with tempest. Why, my voice,
My motion, breaks upon the oppressive stillness
Like a forbidden and disturbing sound.
The very air's asleep; my feeblest breathing
I'll think my prayers — and then
Ha! 't is the thunder of the Living God!
It peals! it crashes! it comes down in fire!
Again!-it is the engine of the foe;
Our walls are dust before it — Wake- oh wake!
O Israel!- O Jerusalem! awake!
Why shouldst thou wake? thy foe is in the heavens!
Yea, thy judicial slumber weighs thee down,
And gives thee, O lost city! to the Gentile,
Defenceless, unresisting.
As though the Everlasting raged not now
Against our guilty Zion, but did mingle
The universal world in our destruction,
And all mankind were destined for a sacrifice
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