Poems (Townsend)/Jerusalem
For works with similar titles, see Jerusalem.
JERUSALEM.[1]
My Spirit some transporting Cherub feels
To bear me where the tower of Salem stood,
Once glorious towers, now sunk.———
Milton's Ode on the Passion.
To bear me where the tower of Salem stood,
Once glorious towers, now sunk.———
Milton's Ode on the Passion.
Flush'd with her crimes, and swoln with impious pride,
Rebellious Judah still her God defied:
Then on Isaiah's eye prophetic rose
The lengthen'd vision of her future woes;
Then, with his country's gathering fate imprest,
The sacred fervour labouring in his breast,
Against the guilty race his kindling lyre
Breath'd the deep vengeance of th' Almighty's ire.
"Hear,[2] O ye Heavens, and thou, O Earth, give ear,
"And trembling shrink the awful sounds to hear!
"The Lord-the Lord hath spoken from on high,
"Whose voice is fate, whose will is destiny.
"I see![3] I see! the dread avengers come,
"Fierce as despair, insatiate as the tomb.
"Heard ye their wheels, like whirlwinds, sweep around?
"Heard ye their thundering coursers beat the ground?
"Mark'd ye their spears move on in long array,
"And shield on shield flash back the beam of day!
"O'er Salem's[4] walls Destruction sternly low'rs,
"And eyes, impatient, her devoted towers.
"Bow'd to the dust,[5] she mourns her slaughter'd bands,
"And strives in vain to lift her fetter'd hands."
O greatly-fall'n, how humbled is thy state!
Thy fields how bare, thy courts how desolate!
Where Joy was wont the nightly dance to lead,
Shrieks the lone bat, and hungry vultures feed;
There the fierce dragon finds a place of rest,
And boding screech-owls build their secret nest.
No more, Bethesda, o'er thy desert springs
Descending Seraphs wave their healing wings;
No more sweet sounds, at morn or eve, declare
That hosts angelic hover on the air:
All—all is fled; and Desolation reigns,
Without a rival, o'er thy ravaged plains.
O days divine! of you may mortal sing,
When God himself was Israel's Guard and King?
Will not the eloquence of earthly speech
Fail from a height, which fancy scarce can reach?
To know Creation's Monarch ever nigh,
A staff in sorrow, and a friend in joy;
To see Heav'n's glories visibly display'd,
And all its Seraphim in light array'd;
These were thy rights, O Israel, this thy boast,
These the high joys, thy disobedience lost.
Bear witness, Hermon, thou whose dewy sod.
Has felt the footstep of a present God;
And, Carmel, thou, whose gales, with incense fraught,
The murmurs of a voice divine have caught;
What dreams extatic o'er the vot'ry stole,
How swell'd the pious transport in his soul;
Ev'n now, when o'er your long-forsaken sweets
The pilgrim lingers, in your lov'd retreats,
Steal visionary forms along the vale,
And more than music whispers on the gale.
O had I pinions,[6] fleet as those, that bear
The dove exulting through the realms of air,
Then would I visit every holy shade,
Where Saints have knelt, or prophets musing stray'
Bend, with a sigh, o'er every relic near,
And pay each shrine the tribute of a tear.
Where o'er the waste, in rude disorder thrown,
Neglected lie yon crumbling heaps of stone,
O who (sad change!) the blest abode could tell,
Where God's own glory once vouchsafed to dwell?
Yet fancy still the ruined fane can raise
Bright with the glories of departed days;
Swift to the view its scatter'd wealth restore,
And bid its vanished splendors beam once more.
Ev'n as I gaze,[7] the sudden spires ascend,
With graceful sweep the long-row'd arches bend;
Aspiring shafts the heaving dome sustain,
And lift the growing fabric from the plain.
See, as it rises, all the world combine
Its various gifts to deck the work divine:
Nature no more her secret treasures hides,
The mine uncloses, and the deep divides.
Mild o'er the wave the fav'ring breezes play,
And waft the Tyrian purple on its way.
Her purest marble rocky Paros lends,
Her sweetest odours soft Idumè blends;
On Carmel's heights the stately cedar falls,
And Ophir glistens on the polish'd walls.
See, while the slow-expanding gates unclose,
How rich within the boundless lustre glows!
Here the tall palm for ever lives in gold,
There, sculptur'd flowers their fretted leaves unfold;
Thro' the long aisles bright lamps incessant beam,
And burnish'd censers roll the spicy stream.
But far within retires the dread abode,
Jehovah's throne—the Oracle of God;
Two cherubs there, with mimic glories bright,
High o'er the ark their guardian wings unite.
Beneath that shade no earthly treasures lie,
No emblems frail of human majesty.
But there enshrin'd the Holy Tablets rest,
By God ordain'd, by God himself imprest.
Thine were these mighty works, by thee design'd,
Belov'd of God, and wisest of mankind.
What[8] to thy Sire the will of Heav'n denied
To thee it gave, propitious, to provide.
Yet, while thy temple in the dust decays,
Lives the full splendor of his sacred lays,
O skill'd to wake the ever-varying lyre,
With all a Prophet's—all a Poet's fire,
What breast, that does not kindle at thy strain?
What heart, that melts not, when thy strings complain?
Hark, how the notes in mounful cadence sigh,
Soft as the breeze, that only wakes to die.
Chang'd is their tone; th' impetuous measures sweep,
Like the fierce storm conflicting with the deep.
Now all th' angelic host at once combine
Their golden harps in unison with thine.
Extatic fervors seize the trembling soul,
And Halleluiahs ring from pole to pole.
What[9] fearful omens heralded the hour,
That gave Judæa to a tyrant's power!
While sank the sun, amid the western blaze
Terrific visions burst upon the gaze,
Unearthly spears reflect the setting beam,
Swords wave, helms glitter, hostile standards stream;
And thronging chariots, hurrying swiftly by,
Sweep the wide air, 'till darkness veils the sky,
Nor ceas'd the portents then: a lurid light
Shot a fierce splendor from the clouds of night;
Its own sad hue o'er all the temple spread,
And on each fear-struck face a ghastlier paleness shed.
See! see! untouch'd by any human hand,
The temple's gates—her massy gates—expand!
No earthly sound is that within I hear,
Like distant waters rolling on the ear,
Proclaiming, as its awful thunders swell,
"The Lord no more in Israel deigns to dwell:"
No mortal foot th' affrighted threshold trod—
'Tis God's own voice, the parting step of God!
Yes, thou art now abandon'd to thy fate;
Vain is regret, repentance comes too late.
Already onward rush thy angry foes,
Already thy devoted walls enclose:
Death with pleas'd eye pursues their destin'd way,
And cheers them on, exulting, to their prey.
Darker, and darker still thy doom appears,
And Sorrow's face a sterner aspect wears.
In vain with equal hand doth justice deal
To each the stinted and unjoyous meal;
With looks despairing, as they ask for food,
Breaks one shrill shriek from all the multitude:
No more remains to fan life's feeble fires,
And Hope's last throb just flutters, and expires.
Ev'n the fond mother, seiz'd with madness wild,
While in her arms th' unconscious infant smil'd,
Drove to its heart the unrelenting steel,
And quench'd her fury on th' accursed meal.
Amid the tumult of the embattled field,
Death! thy stern terrors are but half reveal'd.
For, ev'n if Victory smile not, Glory's beam
Casts a clear light on life's last ebbing stream.
But, worn by wasting famine, to decay,
Hour after hour, by slow degrees away;
No cheering hope, no glowing pulse to feel,
No daring fervor of exalted zeal;
Sunk in despair, to wish, yet fear to die,
This--this is death, in all its agony!
Yet, worn by hunger, and opprest with ill,
Thy hardy sons remain unconquered still.
Weakness, and strength alike their weapons wield,
And they, who cannot conquer, scorn to yield.
Hark, how without the deaf'ning tumult grows,
How swell the shouts of thy victorious foes!
Behold, ten thousand torches, hurl'd on high,
Gleam o'er the walls, and seem to fire the sky.
Now, Salem, now, the spreading flame devours
Thy homes, thy temple, and thy headlong towers:
Now Vengeance smiling scours th' ensanguin'd plain,
And waves her pinions o'er thy countless slain.
'Tis done; proud Salem smokes along the ground,
Her pow'r a dream, her name an empty sound.
To other realms, still ling'ring as they go,
Her children stray, in mute despairing woe;
While all the malice of relentless hate,
Beneath their foes, the captive race await;
With no kind care their inward wounds to heal,
While insult sharpens ev'ry pang they feel.
Yet say, base outcasts of offended Heav'n,
Rebelling still as often as forgiv'n,
Say, are the woes, that now your race pursue,
More than your crimes, or heavier than your due?
How oft your God has turn'd his wrath away,
How oft in mercy has forborne to slay!
How long[10] by gentle chastisement he strove.
To win once more his people to his love!
Ah, call to mind, when in a distant land.
Forlorn ye bow'd beneath a stranger's hand,
His hot displeasure on your haughty foes
Pour'd the full tempest of unsparing woes.
Then, as his flock the tender shepherd leads
To softer herbage, and more fertile meads,
He led his chosen people far away,
Their guide in darkness, their defence by day.
Lo, at his word, th' obedient depths divide,
And 'whelm th' Egyptian in their refluent tide;
While rescued Israel, free from ev'ry care,
Gains the wish'd bank, and pours the vocal prayer.
From the cleft rock see sudden rills rebound,
And spread fresh verdure o'er the thirsty ground!
Yet still anew your disobedience sprung,
And discontent still murmur'd on your tongue;
To graven idols still the knee ye bow'd,
And join'd in Baal's courts th' incestuous crowd.
Still in your pride ye mock'd the threat'ning Seer,
As the deaf adder shuts her reckless ear;
Plung'd in the Prophet's breast th' unhallow'd sword,
And dared to slay the chosen of the Lord.
Swift into light th' expected years roll on,
Th' Almighty Father sends his promised Son.
Not as when Sinai view'd the law reveal'd
In fearful lightning, and in thunder seal'd;
Now peaceful omens cheer the drooping earth,
And hail the tidings of the Heav'nly birth.
'Twas in the solemn stillness of the night,
When the mild moon diffused her quiet light,
When all the world subsided into sleep,
The wakeful shepherds watch'd their folded sheep.
Clad in the radiant glory of the skies,
A form angelic burst upon their eyes;
And, slowly stealing on their wond'ring ear,
Rose the glad sounds, 'twas Heav'n itself to hear.
"Joy to the world! ye nations, cease to mourn,
"Now is the Christ, the promis'd Saviour, born!"
And, lo, descending, the celestial train
Swell the full chorus of the rapt'rous strain;
Till on the gale the notes departing die,
And the bright vision melts into the sky.
Did ye not then with bursts of transport raise
The loud hosannah of exulting praise?
With trembling homage round his cradle bend,
Watch every look, and every smile attend;
And all Creation's noblest gifts combine
To form an off'ring for the Babe divine?
Or, when, his mortal part matured to man,
His earthly ministry at length began,
Did ye not crowd his heav'nly words to hear,
And drink instruction with delighted ear?
No—harden'd still your stubborn souls remain,
As sterile rocks resist the softening rain.
Tho' to the blind unwonted day returns,
And pale Disease with health's new ardor burns;
Tho', deaf to other voice, th' obedient tomb
For him revers'd her universal doom;
More fell than sickness, colder than the grave,
Ye shar'd his gifts, yet spurn'd at him who gave.
Driv'n[11] thro' the world, unknowing where to lie,
Despis'd, rejected, and condemn'd to die,
Before his foes behold Messiah stand,
Meek[12] as a lamb beneath the shearer's hand.
O turn on yonder faded form your eyes,
Oppress'd with sorrow, and consumed in sighs!
Mark that pale brow, with streaming blood embrued,
Where resignation blends with fortitude;
Those lips in inward prayer that gently move,
Those eyes, yet beaming with unconquer'd love;
The meek forgiveness which those looks declare,
That holy calm; and say, if guilt be there?
O love unbounded, more than words can tell
Tho' hymning angels on the theme should dwell:
Not to one people, not one age, confined,
But flowing ever on to all mankind!
See, on the cross those limbs in torture hang,
Convulsed, and quiv'ring with the deathful pang!
A deeper sorrow dwells upon that face,
Than Pain's severest agony could trace;
Ev'n now his spirit mourns Creation's woes,
And breathes compassion for his cruel foes.
See, by a world's united crimes opprest,
He bows his head submissive on his breast.
Now fades the light from those expiring eyes,
And Judah's King-her Lord-her Saviour dies!
Can this be He before whose awful nod
Ev'n seraphs shrink? Is this the Son of God?
Heir of the world, and Monarch of the sky?
The voice of Nature shall itself reply.
Else why, O Sun, conceal thy face in dread,
Why tremble, Earth,[13] and why give up thy dead?
Why rends the temple's mystic veil in twain,
And fearful thunders shake th' affrighted plain?
Yet, blind to truth, say, wretched outcasts, say,
Wait ye the Saviour of a future day?
Lo, he has lived to bless, has died to save,
And burst the brazen fetters of the grave!
Awake, redeem'd Jerusalem,[14] awake,
And from the dust thy sullied garments shake!
From thy gall'd neck unloose the servile bands,
And cast the fetters from thy captive hands.
Break forth, ye mountains, into joyful song!
Ye barren wilds, the rapt'rous strain prolong!
Barren no more; unwonted verdure grows,
And the dry desert blossoms as the rose.
Behold, all Nature proves a second birth,
New skies embrace a new-created earth:
From the glad scene for ever Woe retires,
Pain is no more, and Death himself expires.
Ye angels, strike the full-resounding lyre,
Swell the glad chorus, all ye heav'nly choir!
She comes![15] she comes! descending from on high
The Holy City meets the ravish'd eye!
Bride of the Lamb, without a spot, or stain,
Cleans'd of her crimes, and ransom'd of her chain.
Look at her gates, her glorious tow'rs behold,
More clear than crystal, and more pure than gold.
There dwell the Lord's Redeem'd in glory bright,
Gaze on his face, and live amidst his light:
Taste the delights, that time can ne'er destroy,
Eternal fulness of unfading joy.
Rebellious Judah still her God defied:
Then on Isaiah's eye prophetic rose
The lengthen'd vision of her future woes;
Then, with his country's gathering fate imprest,
The sacred fervour labouring in his breast,
Against the guilty race his kindling lyre
Breath'd the deep vengeance of th' Almighty's ire.
"Hear,[2] O ye Heavens, and thou, O Earth, give ear,
"And trembling shrink the awful sounds to hear!
"The Lord-the Lord hath spoken from on high,
"Whose voice is fate, whose will is destiny.
"I see![3] I see! the dread avengers come,
"Fierce as despair, insatiate as the tomb.
"Heard ye their wheels, like whirlwinds, sweep around?
"Heard ye their thundering coursers beat the ground?
"Mark'd ye their spears move on in long array,
"And shield on shield flash back the beam of day!
"O'er Salem's[4] walls Destruction sternly low'rs,
"And eyes, impatient, her devoted towers.
"Bow'd to the dust,[5] she mourns her slaughter'd bands,
"And strives in vain to lift her fetter'd hands."
O greatly-fall'n, how humbled is thy state!
Thy fields how bare, thy courts how desolate!
Where Joy was wont the nightly dance to lead,
Shrieks the lone bat, and hungry vultures feed;
There the fierce dragon finds a place of rest,
And boding screech-owls build their secret nest.
No more, Bethesda, o'er thy desert springs
Descending Seraphs wave their healing wings;
No more sweet sounds, at morn or eve, declare
That hosts angelic hover on the air:
All—all is fled; and Desolation reigns,
Without a rival, o'er thy ravaged plains.
O days divine! of you may mortal sing,
When God himself was Israel's Guard and King?
Will not the eloquence of earthly speech
Fail from a height, which fancy scarce can reach?
To know Creation's Monarch ever nigh,
A staff in sorrow, and a friend in joy;
To see Heav'n's glories visibly display'd,
And all its Seraphim in light array'd;
These were thy rights, O Israel, this thy boast,
These the high joys, thy disobedience lost.
Bear witness, Hermon, thou whose dewy sod.
Has felt the footstep of a present God;
And, Carmel, thou, whose gales, with incense fraught,
The murmurs of a voice divine have caught;
What dreams extatic o'er the vot'ry stole,
How swell'd the pious transport in his soul;
Ev'n now, when o'er your long-forsaken sweets
The pilgrim lingers, in your lov'd retreats,
Steal visionary forms along the vale,
And more than music whispers on the gale.
O had I pinions,[6] fleet as those, that bear
The dove exulting through the realms of air,
Then would I visit every holy shade,
Where Saints have knelt, or prophets musing stray'
Bend, with a sigh, o'er every relic near,
And pay each shrine the tribute of a tear.
Where o'er the waste, in rude disorder thrown,
Neglected lie yon crumbling heaps of stone,
O who (sad change!) the blest abode could tell,
Where God's own glory once vouchsafed to dwell?
Yet fancy still the ruined fane can raise
Bright with the glories of departed days;
Swift to the view its scatter'd wealth restore,
And bid its vanished splendors beam once more.
Ev'n as I gaze,[7] the sudden spires ascend,
With graceful sweep the long-row'd arches bend;
Aspiring shafts the heaving dome sustain,
And lift the growing fabric from the plain.
See, as it rises, all the world combine
Its various gifts to deck the work divine:
Nature no more her secret treasures hides,
The mine uncloses, and the deep divides.
Mild o'er the wave the fav'ring breezes play,
And waft the Tyrian purple on its way.
Her purest marble rocky Paros lends,
Her sweetest odours soft Idumè blends;
On Carmel's heights the stately cedar falls,
And Ophir glistens on the polish'd walls.
See, while the slow-expanding gates unclose,
How rich within the boundless lustre glows!
Here the tall palm for ever lives in gold,
There, sculptur'd flowers their fretted leaves unfold;
Thro' the long aisles bright lamps incessant beam,
And burnish'd censers roll the spicy stream.
But far within retires the dread abode,
Jehovah's throne—the Oracle of God;
Two cherubs there, with mimic glories bright,
High o'er the ark their guardian wings unite.
Beneath that shade no earthly treasures lie,
No emblems frail of human majesty.
But there enshrin'd the Holy Tablets rest,
By God ordain'd, by God himself imprest.
Thine were these mighty works, by thee design'd,
Belov'd of God, and wisest of mankind.
What[8] to thy Sire the will of Heav'n denied
To thee it gave, propitious, to provide.
Yet, while thy temple in the dust decays,
Lives the full splendor of his sacred lays,
O skill'd to wake the ever-varying lyre,
With all a Prophet's—all a Poet's fire,
What breast, that does not kindle at thy strain?
What heart, that melts not, when thy strings complain?
Hark, how the notes in mounful cadence sigh,
Soft as the breeze, that only wakes to die.
Chang'd is their tone; th' impetuous measures sweep,
Like the fierce storm conflicting with the deep.
Now all th' angelic host at once combine
Their golden harps in unison with thine.
Extatic fervors seize the trembling soul,
And Halleluiahs ring from pole to pole.
What[9] fearful omens heralded the hour,
That gave Judæa to a tyrant's power!
While sank the sun, amid the western blaze
Terrific visions burst upon the gaze,
Unearthly spears reflect the setting beam,
Swords wave, helms glitter, hostile standards stream;
And thronging chariots, hurrying swiftly by,
Sweep the wide air, 'till darkness veils the sky,
Nor ceas'd the portents then: a lurid light
Shot a fierce splendor from the clouds of night;
Its own sad hue o'er all the temple spread,
And on each fear-struck face a ghastlier paleness shed.
See! see! untouch'd by any human hand,
The temple's gates—her massy gates—expand!
No earthly sound is that within I hear,
Like distant waters rolling on the ear,
Proclaiming, as its awful thunders swell,
"The Lord no more in Israel deigns to dwell:"
No mortal foot th' affrighted threshold trod—
'Tis God's own voice, the parting step of God!
Yes, thou art now abandon'd to thy fate;
Vain is regret, repentance comes too late.
Already onward rush thy angry foes,
Already thy devoted walls enclose:
Death with pleas'd eye pursues their destin'd way,
And cheers them on, exulting, to their prey.
Darker, and darker still thy doom appears,
And Sorrow's face a sterner aspect wears.
In vain with equal hand doth justice deal
To each the stinted and unjoyous meal;
With looks despairing, as they ask for food,
Breaks one shrill shriek from all the multitude:
No more remains to fan life's feeble fires,
And Hope's last throb just flutters, and expires.
Ev'n the fond mother, seiz'd with madness wild,
While in her arms th' unconscious infant smil'd,
Drove to its heart the unrelenting steel,
And quench'd her fury on th' accursed meal.
Amid the tumult of the embattled field,
Death! thy stern terrors are but half reveal'd.
For, ev'n if Victory smile not, Glory's beam
Casts a clear light on life's last ebbing stream.
But, worn by wasting famine, to decay,
Hour after hour, by slow degrees away;
No cheering hope, no glowing pulse to feel,
No daring fervor of exalted zeal;
Sunk in despair, to wish, yet fear to die,
This--this is death, in all its agony!
Yet, worn by hunger, and opprest with ill,
Thy hardy sons remain unconquered still.
Weakness, and strength alike their weapons wield,
And they, who cannot conquer, scorn to yield.
Hark, how without the deaf'ning tumult grows,
How swell the shouts of thy victorious foes!
Behold, ten thousand torches, hurl'd on high,
Gleam o'er the walls, and seem to fire the sky.
Now, Salem, now, the spreading flame devours
Thy homes, thy temple, and thy headlong towers:
Now Vengeance smiling scours th' ensanguin'd plain,
And waves her pinions o'er thy countless slain.
'Tis done; proud Salem smokes along the ground,
Her pow'r a dream, her name an empty sound.
To other realms, still ling'ring as they go,
Her children stray, in mute despairing woe;
While all the malice of relentless hate,
Beneath their foes, the captive race await;
With no kind care their inward wounds to heal,
While insult sharpens ev'ry pang they feel.
Yet say, base outcasts of offended Heav'n,
Rebelling still as often as forgiv'n,
Say, are the woes, that now your race pursue,
More than your crimes, or heavier than your due?
How oft your God has turn'd his wrath away,
How oft in mercy has forborne to slay!
How long[10] by gentle chastisement he strove.
To win once more his people to his love!
Ah, call to mind, when in a distant land.
Forlorn ye bow'd beneath a stranger's hand,
His hot displeasure on your haughty foes
Pour'd the full tempest of unsparing woes.
Then, as his flock the tender shepherd leads
To softer herbage, and more fertile meads,
He led his chosen people far away,
Their guide in darkness, their defence by day.
Lo, at his word, th' obedient depths divide,
And 'whelm th' Egyptian in their refluent tide;
While rescued Israel, free from ev'ry care,
Gains the wish'd bank, and pours the vocal prayer.
From the cleft rock see sudden rills rebound,
And spread fresh verdure o'er the thirsty ground!
Yet still anew your disobedience sprung,
And discontent still murmur'd on your tongue;
To graven idols still the knee ye bow'd,
And join'd in Baal's courts th' incestuous crowd.
Still in your pride ye mock'd the threat'ning Seer,
As the deaf adder shuts her reckless ear;
Plung'd in the Prophet's breast th' unhallow'd sword,
And dared to slay the chosen of the Lord.
Swift into light th' expected years roll on,
Th' Almighty Father sends his promised Son.
Not as when Sinai view'd the law reveal'd
In fearful lightning, and in thunder seal'd;
Now peaceful omens cheer the drooping earth,
And hail the tidings of the Heav'nly birth.
'Twas in the solemn stillness of the night,
When the mild moon diffused her quiet light,
When all the world subsided into sleep,
The wakeful shepherds watch'd their folded sheep.
Clad in the radiant glory of the skies,
A form angelic burst upon their eyes;
And, slowly stealing on their wond'ring ear,
Rose the glad sounds, 'twas Heav'n itself to hear.
"Joy to the world! ye nations, cease to mourn,
"Now is the Christ, the promis'd Saviour, born!"
And, lo, descending, the celestial train
Swell the full chorus of the rapt'rous strain;
Till on the gale the notes departing die,
And the bright vision melts into the sky.
Did ye not then with bursts of transport raise
The loud hosannah of exulting praise?
With trembling homage round his cradle bend,
Watch every look, and every smile attend;
And all Creation's noblest gifts combine
To form an off'ring for the Babe divine?
Or, when, his mortal part matured to man,
His earthly ministry at length began,
Did ye not crowd his heav'nly words to hear,
And drink instruction with delighted ear?
No—harden'd still your stubborn souls remain,
As sterile rocks resist the softening rain.
Tho' to the blind unwonted day returns,
And pale Disease with health's new ardor burns;
Tho', deaf to other voice, th' obedient tomb
For him revers'd her universal doom;
More fell than sickness, colder than the grave,
Ye shar'd his gifts, yet spurn'd at him who gave.
Driv'n[11] thro' the world, unknowing where to lie,
Despis'd, rejected, and condemn'd to die,
Before his foes behold Messiah stand,
Meek[12] as a lamb beneath the shearer's hand.
O turn on yonder faded form your eyes,
Oppress'd with sorrow, and consumed in sighs!
Mark that pale brow, with streaming blood embrued,
Where resignation blends with fortitude;
Those lips in inward prayer that gently move,
Those eyes, yet beaming with unconquer'd love;
The meek forgiveness which those looks declare,
That holy calm; and say, if guilt be there?
O love unbounded, more than words can tell
Tho' hymning angels on the theme should dwell:
Not to one people, not one age, confined,
But flowing ever on to all mankind!
See, on the cross those limbs in torture hang,
Convulsed, and quiv'ring with the deathful pang!
A deeper sorrow dwells upon that face,
Than Pain's severest agony could trace;
Ev'n now his spirit mourns Creation's woes,
And breathes compassion for his cruel foes.
See, by a world's united crimes opprest,
He bows his head submissive on his breast.
Now fades the light from those expiring eyes,
And Judah's King-her Lord-her Saviour dies!
Can this be He before whose awful nod
Ev'n seraphs shrink? Is this the Son of God?
Heir of the world, and Monarch of the sky?
The voice of Nature shall itself reply.
Else why, O Sun, conceal thy face in dread,
Why tremble, Earth,[13] and why give up thy dead?
Why rends the temple's mystic veil in twain,
And fearful thunders shake th' affrighted plain?
Yet, blind to truth, say, wretched outcasts, say,
Wait ye the Saviour of a future day?
Lo, he has lived to bless, has died to save,
And burst the brazen fetters of the grave!
Awake, redeem'd Jerusalem,[14] awake,
And from the dust thy sullied garments shake!
From thy gall'd neck unloose the servile bands,
And cast the fetters from thy captive hands.
Break forth, ye mountains, into joyful song!
Ye barren wilds, the rapt'rous strain prolong!
Barren no more; unwonted verdure grows,
And the dry desert blossoms as the rose.
Behold, all Nature proves a second birth,
New skies embrace a new-created earth:
From the glad scene for ever Woe retires,
Pain is no more, and Death himself expires.
Ye angels, strike the full-resounding lyre,
Swell the glad chorus, all ye heav'nly choir!
She comes![15] she comes! descending from on high
The Holy City meets the ravish'd eye!
Bride of the Lamb, without a spot, or stain,
Cleans'd of her crimes, and ransom'd of her chain.
Look at her gates, her glorious tow'rs behold,
More clear than crystal, and more pure than gold.
There dwell the Lord's Redeem'd in glory bright,
Gaze on his face, and live amidst his light:
Taste the delights, that time can ne'er destroy,
Eternal fulness of unfading joy.
- ↑ This Poem obtained the Chancellor's Medal at the Cambridge Commencement July, 1817.
- ↑ Isai. i. 2.
- ↑ Isai. v. 26, &c. and xxix. 6.
- ↑ Isai. xxix. 3.
- ↑ Idem, 4th verse
- ↑ Psalm lv. 6.
- ↑ 1 Kings, ch. vi. passim.
- ↑ 2 Sam. vii. 4.
- ↑ Josephi Hist. et Tacit. lib. v. c. 13.
- ↑ Psalm cv. and cvi, passim.
- ↑ Isai. liii. 3.
- ↑ Idem, 7th verse.
- ↑ Matt. xxvii. 51, 52.
- ↑ Isai. lii. 1, 2, 9.
- ↑ Rev. xxi. 1, 2, &c.