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The hand of Him whose word all must obey:
Therefore he seeks unhallowed aid no more
(Alas! too often sought and felt before),
But lost in thoughts of mingled joy and pain,
He mutely gazes on the distant plain,
And ponders o'er the wondrous scenes of light,
The years to come which rose before his sight;
The visioned dreams, in long and bright array,
That marked the course of one eventful day.
Above expands Judea's cloudless sky,
Beneath his feet her lovely valleys lie:
The Land of Promise, bathed in sunlight, seems
Some fairy paradise of poet's dreams!
Yet Nature's fairest scenes he heeds not now,
But turns to where the desert spreads below;
Those dreary plains, those boundless wastes of fear,
Where clouds ne'er shed one soft refreshing tear,
But burning sands, in viewless distance spread,
All faint and worn the weary pilgrims tread,
And o'er the dim horizon sadly gaze,
To mark at once the warning purple haze,
And fall to earth before the victor, Death,
Comes borne upon the flying Simoom's breath.
Woe, woe to him who mocks that herald light,
Or dares to watch the fell destroyer's flight!
He ne'er shall see his distant home again,
But sink unwept upon the desert plain,
And leave his bones fast whitening in the gale,
To tell each passer-by the mournful tale!
Therefore he seeks unhallowed aid no more
(Alas! too often sought and felt before),
But lost in thoughts of mingled joy and pain,
He mutely gazes on the distant plain,
And ponders o'er the wondrous scenes of light,
The years to come which rose before his sight;
The visioned dreams, in long and bright array,
That marked the course of one eventful day.
Above expands Judea's cloudless sky,
Beneath his feet her lovely valleys lie:
The Land of Promise, bathed in sunlight, seems
Some fairy paradise of poet's dreams!
Yet Nature's fairest scenes he heeds not now,
But turns to where the desert spreads below;
Those dreary plains, those boundless wastes of fear,
Where clouds ne'er shed one soft refreshing tear,
But burning sands, in viewless distance spread,
All faint and worn the weary pilgrims tread,
And o'er the dim horizon sadly gaze,
To mark at once the warning purple haze,
And fall to earth before the victor, Death,
Comes borne upon the flying Simoom's breath.
Woe, woe to him who mocks that herald light,
Or dares to watch the fell destroyer's flight!
He ne'er shall see his distant home again,
But sink unwept upon the desert plain,
And leave his bones fast whitening in the gale,
To tell each passer-by the mournful tale!
Still wrapt in thought the musing prophet stands,
Intently gazing o'er those dreary sands;
Intently gazing o'er those dreary sands;
