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THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT,
The King of men, the loved of Heaven,
O'er tones her heart of hearts had given,
Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven! It softened men of iron mould,
It gave them virtues not their own; No ear so dull, no soul so cold,
That felt not, fired not to the tone,
Till David's Lyre grew mightier than his throne!
It wafted glory to our God;
The cedars bow, the mountains nod;
Devotion and her daughter Love Still bid the bursting spirit soar
To sounds that seem as from above, In dreams that day's broad light can not remove.
IF THAT HIGH WORLD.
If That High World, which lies beyond
Our own, surviving Love endears; If there the cherish'd heart be fond,
The eye the same, except in tears— How welcome those untrodden spheres!
How sweet this very hour to die! To soar from earth and find all fears
Lost in thy light—Eternity!
It must be so: 'tis not for self
And striving to o'erleap the gulph,
Oh! Mi that future let us think
To hold each heart the heart that shares, With them the immortal waters drink,
And soul in soul grow deathless theirs.
THE WILD GAZELLE.
The Wild Gazelle on Judah's hills
Exulting yet may bound,
That gush on holy ground;
A step as fleet, an eye more bright,
And o'er her scenes of lost delight
The cedars wave on Lebanon,
But Judah's statelier maids are gone!