WAKE, arise, thy light is come;

The nations, that before outshone thee, Now at thy feet lie dark and dumb— The glory of the LORD is on thee!

Arise the Gentiles to thy ray

From ev'ry nook of earth shall cluster;
And kings and princes haste to pay
Their homage to thy rising lustre.


up thine eyes around, and see,
O'er foreign fields, o'er farthest waters,
Thy exiled sons return to thee,

To thee return thy home-sick daughters.

And camels rich, from Midian's tents,

Shall lay their treasures down before thee;

And Saba bring her gold and scents,

To fill thy air and sparkle o'er thee.

See, who are these that, like a cloud,

Are gathering from all earth's dominions,

Like doves, long absent, when allow'd

Homeward to shoot their trembling pinions.

Surely the isles shall wait for me,

The ships of Tarshish round will hover,

To bring thy sons across the sea,
And waft their gold and silver over.

And Lebanon thy pomp shall grace

The fir, the pine, the palm victorious Shall beautify our Holy Place,

And make the ground I tread on glorious.

No more shall Discord haunt thy ways,

Nor ruin waste thy cheerless nation ; But thou shalt call thy portals, Praise, And thou shalt name thy walls, Salvation.

The sun no more shall make thee bright,
Nor moon shall lend her lustre to thee;
But God Himself shall be thy Light,

And flash eternal glory through thee.

The sun shall never more go down ;

A ray, from Heaven itself descended, Shall light thy everlasting crown—

Thy days of mourning all are ended.

My own, elect, and righteous Land!

The Branch, for ever green and vernal, Which I have planted with this hand—

Live thou shalt in Life Eternal.

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S once a Grecian maiden wove

Her garland mid the summer bow'rs, There stood a youth, with eyes of love,

To watch her while she wreath'd the flow'rs.

The youth was skill'd in Painting's art,
But ne'er had studied woman's brow,
Nor knew what magic hues the heart
Can shed o'er Nature's charms, till now.


Blest be Love, to whom we owe

All that's fair and bright below.

His hand had pictured many a rose,

And sketch'd the rays that light the brook ; But what were these, or what were those, To woman's blush, to woman's look? "Oh, if such magic pow'r there be,

This, this," he cried, " is all my prayer,

To paint that living light I see,

And fix the soul that sparkles there."

His prayer, as soon as breath'd, was heard; His pallet, touch'd by Love, grew warm, And Painting saw her hues transferr'd

From lifeless flow'rs to woman's form.

Still as from tint to tint he stole,

The fair design shone out the more ;

And there was now a life, a soul,

Where only colours glow'd before.

Then first carnations learn'd to speak,
And lilies into life were brought;
While, mantling on the maiden's check,
Young roses kindled into thought.

Then hyacinths their darkest dyes
Upon the locks of Beauty threw :
And violets, transform'd to eyes,

Enshrined a soul within their blue.


Blest be Love, to whom we owe
All that's fair and bright below.

Song was cold and Painting dim

Till Song and Painting learn'd from him.



HISP'RINGS, heard by wakeful maids,
To whom the night-stars guide us;
Stolen walks through moonlit shades,
With those we love beside us,
Hearts beating,

At meeting;

Tears starting,

At parting;

Oh, sweet youth, how soon it fades!

Sweet joys of youth, how fleeting!

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