Leave thee unhumbled, Asshur?

As grows

Thou hast grown

the stately cedar fed with dews,

And nourish'd by the snows and rivulets,
Upon the peaks of Lebanon, until

It rises terribly pre-eminent,

And o'er the forest casts its haughty shade.
But soon the storm fell on thee. Vainly now
Thy iron roots are wrapt about the rocks,
For thou art scorch'd and blasted by the bolts
Of heaven, and hewn by many a ruthless arm
Of those who underneath thy branches slept
Ungrateful: now the lair of prowling beasts,
Or resting-place of cruel birds of prey1.

Cease thy dark harpings, prophet of the Lord,
Cease, for thy voice and stormy visions cast
Their desolations on the soul of him

Who hears entranced, yet cannot choose the while
But listen. Hark! the prophet lays his hand.
Once more upon the trembling chords, and lo,

A valley, desolate as Tophet, fill'd

1 See Ezek. xxxi.

Esek. xxxvii. 1-14.

With bones innumerable, sere and bleach'd,

As though the sudden pestilence of God

Had fallen on some mighty host, and men

Had left them in the sun and winds to rot.

Death brooded o'er them. But a voice from heaven

Startles the awful silence: and behold

A shaking, and the bones, bone to his bone,

Together framed the perfect skeleton;

And sinews cover'd them, and flesh and skin, lineaments of life. Again

The very

The prophet's voice falls on them: and the winds
Breathe like the quickening Spirit of the Lord

Above the lifeless slain: and lo, they rose
An army numberless, equipp'd for fight.

Hope rises from despair, and life from death.
Ha! the dense clouds are breaking: mighty winds
Have rent a pathway through their gloom, and far
Across the everlasting mountains gleam

The faint streaks of the morning. What if soon

One more prophetic vision scatters woe

On Meshech and the prince of Tubal's host',

3 Ezek. xxxviii. xxxix.

The last stupendous sacrifice of war

Reeking to heaven from Armageddon's vale:-
It passes like a haggard dream away,
And in the far horizon (joy for thee,

Ezekiel, lonely watchman of the night)

Grow clearer and more clear the roseate hues

Of morning-land: and here and there peep forth
The stars in dewy paleness, soon to fade
Before the glory of the rising Sun,

Rising with healing in His wings. He comes,
And in the mellow light which ushers in
His advent, to thy searching ken, O seer,
Stand forth the turrets of His temple', built
Of goodlier stones, and bright with fairer light
Than Solomon in all his glory saw:

With holy courts, and incense clouds of praise,
And deep memorial rites. He comes, He comes,
With rushing wings, and calm crystalline throne:
The same who came to thee by Chebar's banks
And lighten'd thy lone exile: now the earth
Shines with the beauty of His countenance,
And heaven rings forth its welcome jubilee.

• Ezek. xl.

The hills have caught the tidings from the sky,

Which o'er them bends in brightness; and the glens

Repeat the promise to re-echoing glens;

The ocean with its music, myriad-voiced,

Bears on its heaving breast the rapturous sound
Of Hallelujah, and the morning stars

Sing welcome, and the sons of God again

Shout in their everlasting homes for joy.

Enough for thee, Ezekiel, to have caught
The echo of that music: when the harp
Of all creation, jarr'd too long by sin
And grating discords manifold, at last

Retuned and temper'd by the hand of God,

Shall yield to every breath of heaven, that sweeps

Across its countless and melodious strings,

Eternal songs of gratitude and love.

Hinton Martell, 1854.

JOHN BAPTIST.

ἀστὴρ πρὶν μὲν ἔλαμπες ἐνὶ ζώοισιν ἐῶος,

νῦν δὲ θανὼν λάμπεις ἕσπερος ἐν φθιμένοις.

SOFT the summer sun is sinking through the saffron sky to

rest:

Soft the veil of sultry vapour trembles on the desert's

breast;

Golden, crimson, purple, opal lights and shadows, warp and

woof,

Wrap the sands in change, and flush Machærus' battlemented

roof.

Saying, ""Tis my last," a captive rose from the cold dungeon

floor,

Clank'd the fetters with his rising, lean'd the grated lattice

o'er,