And yet thou shouldst have staid to close mine eyes,

And should come back again, and find me dead!

MIRIAM.

Oh, God of Mercies! she is gone an infidel,

An infidel unrepentant, to thy presence,

The partner of my cradle and my bed,

My own, my only sister!-oh! but thou,

Lord, knowest that thou hast not drawn her to thee,

By making the fond passions of the heart,

Like mine, thy ministers of soft persuasion.

She hath not loved a Christian, hath not heard
From lips, whose very lightest breath is dear,
Thy words of comfort.

I will cover her.

Thy bridal veil is now thy shroud, my sister,

And long thou wilt not be without a grave.

Jerusalem will bury all her children

Ere many hours are past.

There's some one comes

A Gentile soldier'tis the same who oft

Hath cross'd me, and I've fled and 'scap'd him. Now,

How can I fly, and whither? Will the dead

Protect me? Ha! whichever

Ha! whichever way I turn,

Are others fiercer and more terrible.

I'll speak to him, there's something in his mien

Less hideous than the rest.

MIRIAM, the SOLDIER.

MIRIAM.

Oh! noble warrior,

I see not that thy sword is wet with blood:

And thou didst turn aside lest thou shouldst tread

Upon a dying man; and e'en but now,

When a bold ruffian almost seiz'd on me,

Thou didst stand forth and scare him from his prey.

Hast thou no voice? perhaps thou art deaf too,

And I am pleading unto closed ears—

L

-Keep from me! stand aloof! I am infected. Oh! if the devil, that haunts the souls of men, They say, with lawless and forbidden thoughts,

If he possess thee, here I lift my voice

By Jesus Christ of Nazareth, I adjure

The evil spirit to depart from thee.

Alas! I feel thy grasp upon mine arm,

And I must follow thee. Oh! thou hast surely
In thine own land, in thine own native home,
A wife, a child, a sister: think what 'twere

To have a stranger's violent arms around her.

Ha! every where are more-and this man's hand

Did surely tremble; at the holy name

He seem'd to bow his head. I'll follow thee,

Let me but kiss the body of my sister,

My dead lost sister

Bless thee! and thou'lt spare me

At least thou art less savage than the rest.
And He that had a virgin mother, He

Will surely listen to a virgin's prayer.

There's hope and strength within my soul; lead on,

I'll follow thee-Salone, oh that thou

Hadst room in thy cold marriage bed for me!

The Front of the Temple.

SIMON.

They fight around the altar, and the dead

Heap the chok'd pavement. Israel tramples Israel,
And Gentile Gentile, rushing where the Temple,
Like to a pit of frantic gladiators,

Is howling with the strife of men, that fight not
For conquest, but the desperate joy of slaying.
Priests, Levites, women, pass and hurry on,
At least to die within the sanctuary.

I only wait without-I take my stand

Here in the vestibule-and though the thunders
High and aloof o'er the wide arch of heaven

Hold their calm march, nor deviate to their vengeance

On earth, in holy patience, Lord, I wait,

Defying thy long lingering to subdue

The faith of Simon.

'Twas but now I pass'd

The

corpse of Amariah, that display'd

In the wild firelight all its wounds, and lay

Embalm'd in honour. John of Galilee

Is prisoner; I beheld him fiercely gnashing

His ponderous chains. Of me they take no heed,
For I disdain to tempt them to my death,

And am not arm'd to slay.

The light within

Grows redder, broader. 'Tis a fire that burns

To save or to destroy. On Sinai's top,

Oh Lord! thou didst appear in flames, the mountain Burnt round about thee. Art thou here at length,

And must I close mine eyes, lest they be blinded

By the full conflagration of thy presence?