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As when thou wentest forth to fling

The curse upon the shuddering King, Yet reeking with the blood--the sinless blood he spilt.

And all that thou hast braved and borne,

The Heathen's hate, the Heathen's scorn, The wasting famine, and the galling chain,Henceforth these things to thee shall seem

The phantoms of a bygone dream; And rest shall be for tvil, and blessedness for pain.

Such visions of deep joy might roll

Through the rapt Prophet's inmost soul,
As, with his fond disciple by his side,
He passed with dry and stainless tread

O’er the submissive river's bed,
And took bis onward way from Jordan's refluent tide.

High converse held those gifted Seers

Of the dark fates of after years,
Of coming judgments, terrible and fast;

The father's crime, the children's woe,

The noisome pest, the victor foe, And mercy sealed, and truth made manifest at last.

Thus as they reasoned, hark! on high

Rolled back the portals of the sky;
And from the courts of the empyrean dome

Came forth what seemed a fiery car,
On rushing wheels, each wheel a star,
And bore the Prophet thence,-- whither ? -- to his


With head thrown back, and hand upraised,

Long--long that sad disciple gazed,
As his loved teacher passed for aye away ;- -

“ Alas, my father!” still he cried,

“ One look--one word to soothe and guide! Chariot and horse are gone from Israel's tents to

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Earth saw the sign ;-Earth saw and smiled,

As to her Maker reconciled;
With gladder murmur flowed the streams along;

Unstirred by breath of lightest breeze

Trembled the conscious cedar trees, And all around the birds breathed gratitude in song.

And viewless harpstrings from the skies

Rang forth delicious harmonies; And strange sweet voices poured their grateful hymn;

And radiant eyes were smiling through

The tranquil ether's boundless blue, The eyes of Heaven's high host, the joyous Seraphim.

And Piety stood musing by,

And Penitence with downcast eye;
Faith heard with raptured heart the solemn call,

And, pointing with her lustrous hand

To the far shores of that blest land, Sent forth her voice of praise,—“ for him, O God,

for all !”

Death frowned far off his icy frown,*

The monarch of the iron crown, First-born of Sin, the universal foe;

Twice had his baffled darts been vain;

Death trembled for his tottering reign, And poised the harmless shaft, and drew the idle


Sons of the Prophets, do ye still

Look through the wood and o'er the hill,
For him, your lord, whom ye may ne'er behold ?-

O dreamers, call not him, when day

Fades in the dewy vale away, Nor when glad morning crests the lofty rocks with

• gold!

Peace! call that honored name no more,

By Jordan's olive-girdled shore,
By Kedron's brook, or Siloa’s holy fount;

Nor where the fragrant breezes rove

Through Bethel's dim and silent grove, Nor on the rugged top of Carmel's sacred mount.

Henceforth ye never more may meet,

Meek learners, at your master's feet,
To gaze on that high brow, those piercing eyes;

*“Stassi da un lato Morte furibonda,

Che l'arco ha teso, ed a scoccar s'appresta
Ver la rapita a lei salma seconda—"


And hear the music of that voice

Whose lessons bade the sad rejoice, Said to the weak, “Be strong !” and to the dead,

“ Arise!"

Go, tell the startled guards that wait

In arms before the palace gate “The Seer of Thesbe walks no more on earth :">

The king will bid prepare the feast;

And tyrant prince and treacherous priest Will move with haughtier step, and laugh with louder


And go to Zarephath, and say
What God's right hand hath wrought to-day
To the pale widow and her twice-born son:

Lo, they will weep, and rend their hair, Upstarting from their broken prayer,“ Our comforter is gone, our friend, our only one !"

Nay, deem not so! for there shall dwell

A Prophet yet in Israel
To tread the path which erst Elijah trod;
He too shall mock th’ oppressor's spears,

He too shall dry the mourner's tears;
Elijah's robe is his, and his Elijah's God!

But he before the throne of grace
Hath his eternal dwelling-place;
His head is crowned with an unfarling crown;

And in the book, the awful book On which the Angels fear to look, The chronicle of Heaven, his name is written down).

Too hard the flight for Passion's wings,

Too high the theme for Fancy's strings;
Inscrutable the wonder of the tale !

Yet the false Sanhedrim will weave
Wild fictions, cunning to deceive,
And hide reluctant Truth in Error's loathly veil.

And some in after years will tell*

How on the Prophet's cradle fell
Rays of rich glory, an unearthly stream;

And some how fearful visions came

Of Israel judged by sword and flame, That wondrous child the judge, upon his father's


Elijah in the battle's throng

Shall urge the fiery steeds along,
Hurling the lance, lifting the meteor sword:

Elijah in the day of doom

Shall wave the censer's rich perfume, To turn the wrath aside, the vengeance of the Lord.

Vain, vain! it is enough to know

That in his pilgrimage below
He wrought Jehovah's will with steadfast zeal;

* See Bayle's Dictionary, Art. “Elijah.”

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