Page:Poems Toke.djvu/16

8

"What hast thou done? False, fickle Balaam, say.
To curse my foes I brought thee here this day;
I bade thee curse, and thou hast dared instead
To pour the richest blessings on their head."

"And must I not what God hath said declare?"
The prophet calm replies. "I only bear
The message He hath sent by me this day:
He bade me bless, and could I disobey?"

"No, Prophet, no; but come with me again
To where yon mountain rises o'er the plain;
Thine eye beholds their countless numbers here,
From thence their utmost parts alone appear;
Again we'll light the fires and pour the prayer,—
Perchance the Lord will let thee curse them there."

The scene is changed, and now on Pisgal's height
The noontide ray is glancing fiercely bright;
Whilst all around Creation's glories seem
To droop in faintness 'neath that fiery beam;
In vain the aching vision seeks to rest
On yonder valley's calm and verdant breast,
For plain and mountain, rock and forest, now
Dazzling alike in painful lustre glow;
While far beyond, in glittering whiteness clear,
The boundless plains of desert sand appear.
No zephyr breathes to fan the sultry air,
No welcome cloud, no shadow dims the glare,
But all alike must droop beneath its power,
And long once more to greet the evening hour,—
That hour of still delight and tranquil rest,
Which charms the eye, and soothes the anxious breast.