SUN OF THE SLEEPLESS! SUN OF THE SLEEPLESS! melancholy star! So gleams the past, the light of other days, Which shines, but warms not with its powerless rays; A night-beam Sorrow watcheth to behold, Distinct, but distant-clear-but, oh how cold! WERE MY BOSOM AS FALSE AS THOU DEEM'ST IT TO BE. I. WERE MY BOSOM AS FALSE AS THOU DEEM'ST IT TO BE, I need not have wandered from far Galilee; It was but abjuring my creed to efface The curse which, thou say'st, is the crime of my race. II. If the bad never triumph, then God is with thee! III. I have lost for that faith more than thou canst bestow, As the God who permits thee to prosper doth know; In his hand is my heart and my hope-and in thine The land and the life which for him I resign. HEROD'S LAMENT FOR MARIAMNE. I. OH, Mariamne! now for thee The heart for which thou bled'st is bleeding; Revenge is lost in agony, And wild remorse to rage succeeding. Oh, Mariamne! where art thou? Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading: Though heaven were to my prayer unheeding. II. And is she dead?—and did they dare My wrath but doom'd my own despair: The sword that smote her 's o'er me waving.— But thou art cold, my murdered love! And this dark heart is vainly craving For her who soars alone above, And leaves my soul unworthy saving. III. She's gone, who shared my diadem; She sunk, with her my joys entombing; I swept that flower from Judah's stem Which unconsumed are still consuming! |