9
So calm, so bright,—alas! so quickly past.
In every land the loveliest, though the last.
In every land the loveliest, though the last.
Jut when the noontide sunbeam fiercest glows,
And stretched in nerveless languor all repose,
See, see! in Zophim's field, on Pisgah's brow,
The same dark forms are moving slowly now,
And once again those sevenfold beacons rise,
In flickering lustre, towards the dark blue skies.
The spell is wrought, the mystic rite is o'er,
And Balaam goes to meet his God once more,
While faint and worn the panting nobles rest
Their weary limbs on earth's maternal breast.
Jut no repose the monarch yet requires,
He restless paces round the fading fires,
And starts at every leaf that stirs in air,
Expecting still to see the prophet there.
He comes at last! Bright is the heavenly ray
That o'er his glowing features seems to play.
But Balak silent waits, in anxious fear,
The words he longed yet scarcely hoped to hear;
Whilst awe, and many a feeling undefined
Of coming woe, sweep o'er his restless mind,
And vengeful thoughts he would not man should know,
Now fire his eve, and cloud his darkening brow.
"What hast thou heard again?" at last he cries.
And thus in words of power the seer replies:—
And stretched in nerveless languor all repose,
See, see! in Zophim's field, on Pisgah's brow,
The same dark forms are moving slowly now,
And once again those sevenfold beacons rise,
In flickering lustre, towards the dark blue skies.
The spell is wrought, the mystic rite is o'er,
And Balaam goes to meet his God once more,
While faint and worn the panting nobles rest
Their weary limbs on earth's maternal breast.
Jut no repose the monarch yet requires,
He restless paces round the fading fires,
And starts at every leaf that stirs in air,
Expecting still to see the prophet there.
He comes at last! Bright is the heavenly ray
That o'er his glowing features seems to play.
But Balak silent waits, in anxious fear,
The words he longed yet scarcely hoped to hear;
Whilst awe, and many a feeling undefined
Of coming woe, sweep o'er his restless mind,
And vengeful thoughts he would not man should know,
Now fire his eve, and cloud his darkening brow.
"What hast thou heard again?" at last he cries.
And thus in words of power the seer replies:—
"Rise, Balak! King of Moab, now draw nigh
And hear:—God is not man that He should lie,
Or son of man, to change once more
The word that He declared before.
And hear:—God is not man that He should lie,
Or son of man, to change once more
The word that He declared before.
