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PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA.-BISHOP HEBER.

For many a coal-black tribe and cany spear,
The hireling guard of Misraim's throne, were there;
From distant Cush they trooped, a warrior train,
Siwah's green isle and Senaar's marly plain:
On either wing their fiery coursers check
The parched and sinewy sons of Amalek;
While close behind, inured to feast on blood,
Decked in Behemoth's spoils, the tall Shangalla strode.
'Mid blazing belms and bucklers rough with gold,
Saw ye how swift the scythed chariots rolled ?
Lo, these are they whom, lords of Afric's fates,
Old Thebes hath poured through all her hundred gates;
Mother of armies ! how the emeralds glowed,
Where, flushed with power and vengeance, Pharoah rode!
And, stoled in white, those brazen wheels before,
Osiris ark his swarthy wizards bore;
And still responsive to the trumpet's cry,
The priestly sistrum murmured-Victory!
Why swell these shouts that rend the desert's gloom ?
Whom come ye forth to combat ?-warriors, whom?
These flocks and herds—this faint and weary train-
Red from the scourge, and recent from the chain ?
God of the poor, the poor and friendless save!
Giver and Lord of freedom, help the slave!
North, south and west, the sandy whirlwinds fly,
The circling horns of Egypt's chivalry.
On earth's last margin, throng the weeping train;
Their cloudy guide moves on :-“And must we swim the main ?"
'Mid the light spray their snorting camels stood,
Nor bathed a fetlock in the nauseous flood:
He comes—their leader comes the man of God
O'er the wide waters lifts his mighty rod,
And onward treads. The circling waves retreat,
In hoarse deep murmurs, from his holy feet,
And the chased surges, inly roaring, show
The hard wet sand and coral hills below.

With limbs that falter, and with hearts that swell,
Down, down they pass--a steep and slippery dell;
Around them rise, in pristine chaos hurled,
The ancient rocks, the secrets of the world;
And flowers that blush beneath the ocean green,
And caves, the sea-calves' low-roofed haunt, are seen.
Down, safely down the narrow pass they tread;
The beetling waters storm above their head;
While far behind retires the sinking day,
And fades on Edom's hills its latest ray.

Yet not from Israel fled the friendly light,
Or dark to them, or cheerless came the night;
Still in their van, along that dreadful road,
Blazed broad and fierce the brandished torch of God.

Its meteor glare a tenfold lustre gave
On the long mirror of the rosy wave;
While its blest beams a sunlike heat supply,
Warm every cheek, and dance in every eye-
To them alone-for Misraim's wizard train
Invoke for light the monster gods in vain;
Clouds heaped on clouds the struggling sight confine,
And tenfold darkness broods above their line.
Yet on they face, by reckless vengeance led,
And range unconscious through the ocean's bed;
Till midway now—that strange and fiery form
Showed his dread visage lightning through the storm,
With withering splendor blasting all their might,
And brake their chariot wheels, and marred their coursers' flight.
“Fly, Misraim, fly!" the ravenous floods they see,
And fiercer than the floods, the Deity.
"Fly, Misraim, fly!” from Edom's coral strand,
Again the prophet stretched his dreadful wand.
With one wild crash the thundering waters sweep,
And all is waves--a dark and lonely deep;
Yet o'er those lonely waves such murmurs past,
As mortal wailing swelled the nightly blast.
And strange and sad the whispering breezes bore
The groans of Egypt to Arabia's shore.

Oh! welcome came the morn, where Israel stood
In trustless. wonder by the avenging flood !
Oh! welcome came the cheerful morn, to show
The drifted wreck of Zoan's pride below!
The mangled limbs of men—the broken car-
A few sad relics of a nation's war;
Alas, how few! Then soft as Elim's well,
The precious tears of new-born freedom fell.
And he, whose hardened heart alike had borne
The house of bondage and the oppressor's scorn,
The stubborn slave, by hope's new beams subdued,
In faltering accents sobbed his gratitude,
Till kindling into warmer zeal, around
The virgin timbrel waked its silver sound;
And in fierce joy, no more by doubt supprest,
The struggling spirit throbbed in Miriam's breast.
She, with bare arms, and fixing on the sky
The dark transparence of her lucid eye,
Poured on the winds of heaven her wild sweet harmony.
"Where now," she sang, “the tall Egyptian spear ?
On's sunlike shield, and Zoan's chariot, where?
Above their ranks the whelming waters spread.
Shout, Israel, for the Lord hath triumphëd !”
And every pause between, as Miriam sang,
From tribe to tribe the martial thunder rang;
And loud and far their stormy chorus spread-
Shout, Israel, for the Lord hath triumphëd !"

PARADISE AND THE PERI.-MOORE.

One morn a Peri at the gate
Of Eden stood, disconsolate;
And as she listen'd to the Springs

Of Life within, like music flowing,
And caught the light upon her wings

Through the half-open portal glowing,
She wept to think her recreant race
Should e'er have lost that glorious place!
The glorious Angel, who was keeping
The gates of Light, beheld her weeping;
And, as he nearer drew and listen'd
To her sad song, a teardrop glisten'd
Within his eyelids, like the spray

From Eden's fountain, when it lies
On the blue flow'r, which-Brahmins say

Blooms nowhere but in Paradise.

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“Nymph of a fair but erring line!
Gently he said—“One hope is thine.
'Tis written in the Book of Fate,
The Peri yet may be forgiven
Who brings to this Eternal gate
The gift that is most dear to Heaven !
Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin-
'Tis sweet to let the Pardon'd in."
But whither shall the Spirit go
To find this gift for Heaven?—"I know
The wealth," she cries, “ of every urn,
In which unnumber'd rubies burn,
Beneath the pillars of Chilminar;
I know where the Isles of Perfume are
Many a fathom down in the sea,
To the south of sun-bright Araby;
I know, too, where the Genii hid
The jewell'd cup of their King Jamshid,
With Life's elixir sparkling high-
But gifts like these are not for the sky.
Where was there ever a gem that shone
Like the steps of Allah's wonderful Throne ?
And the Drops of Life—0, what would they be
In the boundless Deep of Eternity ?”
Downward the Peri turns her gaze,
And, through the war field's bloody haze
Beholds a youthful warrior stand,

Alone beside his native river-
The red blade broken in his hand,

And the last arrow in his quiver.

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“Live," said the Conqueror, "live to share
The trophies and the crowns I bear!”
Silent that youthful warrior stood-
Silent he pointed to the flood
All crimson with his country's blood,
Then sent his last remaining dart
For answer, to th' Invader's heart.

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False flew the shaft, though pointed well;
The Tyrant liv'd, the Hero fell!-
Yet mark'd the Peri where he lay,

And, when the rush of war was past,
Swiftly descending on a ray

Of morning light, she caught the last-
Last glorious drop his heart had shed
Before its free-born spirit, fled!

Be this,” she cried, as she wing’d her flight,
“My welcome gift at the Gates of Light.
Though foul are the drops that oft distil
On the field of warfare, blood like this,

*For Liberty shed, so holy is,
It would not stain the purest rill,

That sparkles among the Bowers of Bliss ! O, if there be, on this earthly sphere, A boon, an offering Heaven holds dear, 'Tis the last libation Liberty draws From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her cause !"

"Sweet,” said the Angel, as she gave

The gift into his radiant hand,
Sweet is our welcome of the Brave

Who die thus for their native Land.
But see-alas 1-the crystal bar
Of Eden moves not-holier far
Than ev'n this drop the boon must be,
That opes the Gates of Heav'n for thee!
Her first fond hope of Eden blighted,

Now among Afric's lunar Mountains,
Far to the South, the Peri lighted;

And sleek'd her plumage at the fountains
Of that Egyptian tide-whose birth
Is hidden from the sons of earth
Deep in those solitary woods,
Where oft the Genii of the Floods
Dance round the cradle of their Nile,
And hail the new-born Giant's smile.

"Poor race of men!” said the pitying Spirit,

Dearly ye pay for your primal FallSome flow'rets of Eden ye still inherit,

But the trail of the Serpent is over them all!”

PARADISE AND THE PERI.-MOORE.

One morn a Peri at the gate
Of Eden stood, disconsolate;
And as she listen'd to the Springs

Of Life within, like music flowing,
And caught the light upor her wings

Through the half-open portal glowing,
She wept to think her recreant race
Should e'er have lost that glorious place!
The glorious Angel, who was keeping
The gates of Light, beheld her weeping;
And, as he nearer drew and listen'd
To her sad song, a teardrop glisten'd
Within his eyelids, like the spray

From Eden's fountain, when it lies
On the blue flow'r, which-Brahmins say-

Blooms nowhere but in Paradise.

"Nymph of a fair but erring line!”
Gently he said—"One hope is thine.
'Tis written in the Book of Fate,
The Peri yet may be forgiven
Who brings to this Eternal gate
The gift that is most dear to Heaven !
Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin-
'Tis sweet to let the Pardon'd in,"

But whither shall the Spirit go
To find this gift for Heaven?_“I know
The wealth," she cries, "of every urn,
In which unnumber'd rubies burn,
Beneath the pillars of Chilminar;
I know where the Isles of Perfume are
Many a fathom down in the sea,
To the south of sun-bright Araby;
I know, too, where the Genii hid
The jewell'd cup of their King Jamshid,
With Life's elixir sparkling high-
But gifts like these are not for the sky.
Where was there ever a gem that shone
Like the steps of Allah's wonderful Throne ?
And the Drops of Life—0, what would they be
In the boundless Deep of Eternity ?”
Downward the Peri turns her gaze,
And, through the war field's bloody haze
Beholds a youthful warrior stand,

Alone beside his native river-
The red blade broken in his hand,

And the last arrow in his quiver.

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