warmth as good breeding would allow; tempt to disguise it, both cards were the mayor retorted with downright an- written in the same hand by some perger, swearing that he would not be son, who bad designed to make fools of choused by the bravest colonel in bis ibem all. Every eye of the corporation Majesty's service.---- Mr Mayor," said turned spontaneously upon the attorney, the colonel, “ there is no necessity for who, of course attended all public neetdisplaying any vulgar passion on this ings. His impudence suddenly gave occasion. Permit me to shew you, that way, be faltered and betrayed bimself I have here your obliging card of invi- so fully by his confusion, that the colotation.”—“Nay, Mr Colonel, here is nel, in a fit of summary justice, tbrew no opportunity for bantering, there is him out of the window. For this Sir your card.”

Francis Delaval was charged five hunUpon examining the cards, it was dred pounds. Whether he paid the observed, tbat notwithstanding an at- money or not, I forget."

From the Literary Gazette.


POEM by the author of Fazio tious personages, namely, Miriam and

and of Samor, cannot fail to raise a Salone, daughters of Simon, and Amastrong feeling of curiosity in the litera- riah, son of John. Great skill is disry world; and we hasten to gratify as played in marking and contrasting, not much of tbat feeling as we cau by this only the circumstances embraced by the early contribution to a general know- action, but the peculiar traits and babledge of “The Fall of Jerusalem.” its of the prominent individuals. Si

« The Fall of Jerusalem” is,indeed, a mon, a stern and strict Pharisee, obstinoble poem, farsurpassing, in our opin- nately blinded in expectation of superion, the preceding works of Mr. Mil- natural interference io save them, and man.--Meeting, as of necessity it must, fancying himself prophetic ip his visions a comparison with the noblest language of coming succour, is opposed to Joho, of divine inspiration ;-set side by side a sensual Sadducee, wbo believes that with the Book of Job, or Prophesy death is “the be-all and the end-all bere." of Isaiah,-it seems 10 us, if less sub- Miriam, a secret Christian, sweet, delime than the latter, to be equally beau- vout, loving, and melancholy, is the tiful; and if less deeply pathetic than contrast to her sister Salone, a creature, the former, to be equally tender and of force and passion, participating in affecting. And let it remembered that her father's fierceness, zeal, and superwe are here speaking of analogies be- stition. The touching loves and stoltween human and inspired writings; en meetings of Miriam with the amiabetween the conceptions of modern ble Javan, at the fountain of Siloe, genius and the most splendid effusions of counterpoise the stormy and unblessed gifted antiquity.

· union of Salone with the warrior AmThe groundwork of the drama is in ariah; and forms a delightful episode Josephus, who is one of its interlocu- and relief to the general borror. İp like tors. The events of the siege of the manner does the construction of the Holy City by the Romans under Ti- piece combine the highest poetical estus, are compressed into a period of cellences with the finest opposition in about thirty six bours; and to the his- situations, and much of the truth of his torical characters of Simon the assassin, tory, as well as prophetic fulfilment. John the tyrant, and Eleazar the zeal. The bridal songs for Salone, mingling ot, among the Jews are added (for the with the sack of Jerusalem, are an exsake of dramatic interest,) several ficti- ample of this, and produce a grand and

* The Fall of Jerusalem : a Drama tic Poem. By the Rev. H. H. Milman. London, 1820.

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Javan !

terrible effect. We

e are unwilling to earliest description of Javan by the wadetain readers from our extracts, and ters of Siloe, waiting for Miriamshall therefore abstain from further comment; only noticing another sub Javan. Sweet fountain, once again I visit thee ! ject for admiration, which struck us as

And thou art flowing on, and freshening still conferring much spirit and originality Modestiy with a soft unboastful murmur,

The green moss, and the flowers that bend to thee, upon the poem. We allude to the Rejoicing at the blessings that thou bearest. povelty of the motives, sentiments, and Pure , stainless, thou art flowing on ; the stars grounds of action peculiar to the Jewish Make thee their mirror, and the moonlight beams

Course one another o'er thy silver bosom: nation! this gives a freshness and raci

And yet thy flowing is through fields of blood, ness to the whole, which has conspired and armed men their hot and weary brows to augment exceedingly our enjoyment Slake with thy :inpid and perennial coolness. in the contemplation of " The Fall of

Even with such inre and singular purity Jerasalem.'

Movist thou, oh Miriam, in yon cruel city.

Men's eyes,o'erwearied with the sights of war,
The scene opens on the Mount of With tuinult and with grief, repose on thee
Olives: Titus and his army advancing As on a refuge and a sweet refreshment.
the seige: the conqueror reasoning on

But ah! why com'st thou not ? these two long the “Stoic philosophy," intimates that nights his mercy, and desire to spare the city, I've watch'd for thee in vain, and have not felt are overborne by the influence of a su

The music of thy footsteps on my spirit

Voice at a distance. perior power, whose workings he cannot expound. He answers those who

Javan. It is her voice! the air is fond of it, persuade bim to avert the "abomina- And enviously delays its tender sounds tion of desolation."

From the ear that thirsteth for them. - Miriam !

Nay, stand thus in thy timid breathlessness,

It must be That I may gaze on thee, and thou not chide me And yet it moves me, Romans ! it confounds Because I gaze too fondly. The counsels of iay firm philosophy, That Ruin's merciless ploughshare must pass o'er, She entreats the wonted succour And barren salt be sown on yon proud city. As on our olive-crowyjed-hill we stand,

which he has been accustomed to bring Where Kedron at our feet its scanty waters

for her fatber, and, endeavouring to Distils from stone to stone with gentle motion, persuade her to quit the place over which As through a valley sacred to sweet peace,

ibe curse of the Almighty hangs, he How boldly doth it front us ! how majestically! Like a luxurious vineyard, the hill side

paints the miseries of Roman conquest Is hung with marble fabrics, line o'er line,

in the following powerful wordsTerrace o'er terrace, nearer still, and nearer To the blue heavens. Here bright and sumptuous Even now our city trembles on the verge palaces,

Ofutter ruin. Yet a nigtit or two, With cool and verdant gardens interspersed ;

And the fierce stranger in our burning streets Here towers of war that frown in massy strength,

Stands conqueror : and how the Roman conquers, While over all hangs the rich purple eve,

Let Gischkala, let fallen Jotapata As conscious of its being her last farewell of light and glory to that fated city.

Tell, if one living man, one innocent child,

Yet wander o'er their cold and scatter'd ashes.
And, as our clouds of battle, dust, and smoke

They slew them, Miriam, the old grey man,
Are melted into air, behold the Temple,
In undisturb’d and lone serenity

Whose blood scarce tinged their swords-(nay turn net

from me, Finding itself a solemn sanctuary

The tears thou sheddest feel as though I wrung them In the profound of heaven! It stands before us

From mine own heart my life-blood's dearest drops. A mount of snow fretted with golden pinnacles! They slew them, Mirian, at the mother's breast, The very sun, as though he worshipp'd there,

The smiling infants ;-and the fender maid,
Lingers upon the gilded cedar roofs ;

The soft, the loving, and the chaste, like thee
And down the long and branching porticoes, They slew her not till
On every flowery-sculptured capital,


Javan, 'tis unkind! Glitters the homage of his parting beams.

I have enough at home of thoughts like these, By Hercules ! the sight might almost win

Thoughts horrible, that freeze the blood, and make The offended majesty of Rome to mercy,

A heavier burthen of this weary lite

I hoped with thee t' have pass'd a tranquil bour, This glorious poetical picture at the A brief, a hurried, yet stil tranquil hour ! commencement prepares us for the bor- - But thou art like them all! the miserable

Have only Heaven, where they can rest in peace, ror of the catastrophe; as does also the

Without being mock'd and taunted with their misery.

Our next quotation is selected on ac

They wait for thee, the associate of their hopes count of its poetic imagery.


And fatal fall, to join their ruin'd conclave.

He whom the Red Sca 'whelm'd with all his host, and John are contending when the high Pharaoh, the Egyptian : and the kings of Canaan ; priest interposes, and thus addresses The Philistine, the Dagon worshipper ; them

Moab, and Edom, and fierce Amalek ;
High Priest.

And he of Babylon, whose multitudes,
Break off! break off! I hear the Gentile horn

Even on the hills where gleam your myriad spean, Winding along the wide entrenched line.

In one brief night the invisible Angel swept
Hear ye it not? hill answers bill, the valleys

With the dark, noiseless shadow of his wing,
In their deep channels lengthen out the sound. And morn beheld the fierce and riotous camp
It rushes down Jehoshaphat, the depths

One cold, and mute, and tombless cemetery, of Hinnom answer. Hark! again they blow,

Sennacherib ; all, ali are risen, are moved ; Chiding you men of Judah, and insulting

Yea, they take up the taunting song of weleome Your bare and vacant walls, that now oppose not

To him who, like themselves, bath madly warrd Their firm array of javelin-hurling men,

'Gainst Zion's walls, and miserably fallen Slingers, and pourers of the liquid fire.

Before the avenging God of Israel ! Amariah. Blow! Blow! and rend the heavens, thou deep voiced horn!

Joseph endeavours to soften the I hear thee, and rejoice at thee. Thou summoner councils of his countrymen, to which To the storm of battle, thou that dost invite

they turn a deaf ear, and wound bim With stern and welcome importunity

with a javelin: Titus abjures every The warrior soul to that high festival, Where Valour with his armed hand administers lingering thought of mercy, and the The cup of death!

march of calamity is accelerated. The character of Simon is potently

conflict eosues of which Salone is a wildrawn by himself in the ensuing collo ling witness. She thus briefly, but es

quisitely pourtrays her lover among the quy, at a conference with the besiegers.

combatants. Sim. Peace, John of Galilee ! and I will answer

Salo. And thon! oh thou, that movest to the battle This purple-mantled Captain of the Gentiles ;

Even like the mountain stag to the running rire, But in far other tone than he is wont

Pause, pause, that I may gaze myfill!-
To hear about his silken couch of fcasting
Amid his pamper'd parasites.- I speak to thee,

The Jews are defeated : meanwhile
Titus, as warrior should accost a warrior.
The world, thou boastest, is Rome's slave; the sun

a procession of virgins go up the temple Rises and sets apon no realm but yours;

to implore the divine protection. They Ye plant your giant foot in either ocean,

are thus described by Miriam : And vaunt that all which ye o'erstride is Rome's. But think ye, that because the common earth

Behold them here! Surfeits your pride with homage, that our land, Behold them, how unlike to what they were ! Our separate, peculiar, sacred land,

Oh! virgin daughters of Jerusalem !
Portion'd and seal'd unto us by the God

Ye were a garden once of Permon's lilies.
Who made the round world and the crystal heavens; That bashfully upon their tremulous stems
A wond'rous land, where Nature's common course Bow to the wooing breath of the sweet spring.
Is strange and out of use, so oft the Lord

Graceful ye were there needed not the tone
Invades it wi miraculous intervention ;

Of tabret, harp, or lute, to modulate
Think ye tus land shall be an Heathen heritage, Your soft harmonious footsteps ! your light tread
An high place for your Moloch? Haughty Gentile ! Fell like a natural music. Ah ! how deeply
Even now ye walk on ruin and on prodigy.

Aath the cold blight of misery prey'd upon you.
The air ye breathe is heavy and o'ercharged

How heavily ye drag your weary footsteps, With your dark gathering doom; and if our earth Each like a mother mourning her one child. Do yet in its disdain endure the footing

Ah me! I feel it almost as a sin, of yourærm'd legions, 'tis because it labours To be so much less sad, less miserable. With silent throes of expectation, waiting The signal of your scattering. Lo ! the mountains But we must not linger on the midBeud o'er you with their huge and lowering shadows, dle

graces of the poem : the consumReady to rush and overwhelm ; the winds Do listen panting for the tardy presence

mation demands some of our space. Of Him that shall avenge. And there is scorn,

Javan's predictive song will lead us to it. Yea, there is laughter in our fathers' tonebs, To think that Hea then conqueror doth aspire To lord it over God's Jerusalem !

I feel it now, the sad, the coming hour; Yea, in Hell's deep and desolate abode

The signs are full, and never shall the sun Where dwell the perish'd kings, the Chief of earth ;

Shine on the cedar roofs of Salen more ; 'They whose idolatrous warfare erst assaild

Her tale of splendour now is cold and done :
The Holy City, and the chosen people;

Her wine-cup of festivity is spilt,
And all is o'er, her grandeur and her guilt


Oh ! fair and favour'd city, where of old

Voice within. Woe! woe! woe!
The balmy airs were rich with me lody,

First Jew. Alas !
That led her pomp beneath the cloudless sky, The son of Hannaniah! is't not he?
In vestments fiaming with the orient gold ;

Third Jew. Whom said'st ?
Her gold is dim, and mute her music's voice,

Second Jew. Art thou a stranger in Jerusalem, The Heathen o'er her perish'd pomp rejoice. That thou rememberest not that fearful man ! How stately then was every palm-deck'd street,

Fourth Jew. Speak! speak ! we know not all. Down which the maidens danced with tinkling feet;

Second Jew. Why thus it was : How proud the elders in the lofty gate !

A rude and homely dresser of the vine, How crowded all her nation's solemn feasts

He had come up to the Feast of Tabernacles, With white-rob’d Levites and high-mitred Priests ;

When suddenly a spirit fell upon him, How gorgeous all her temple's sacred state !

Evil or good we know not. Ever since, Her streets are razed, her maidens sold for slaves,

(And now seven years are past since it befel, Her gates thrown down, her elders in their graves;

Our city then being prosperous and at peace), Her feasts are holden 'mid the Gentile's scorn,

He hath gone wandering through the darkling By stealth her priesthood's holy garments worn ; And where her temple crown'd the glittering rock,

At midnight, under the cold quiet stars ; The wandering shepherd folds his evening flock.

He bath gone wandering through the crowded

market When shall the work, the work of death begin ? At noonday under the bright blazing sun, When come th' avengers of proud Judah's sin? With that one ominous cry of " Woe! woe! woe !" Aceldarsa ! accurs'd and guilty ground,

Some scoff'd and mock'd him, some would give Gird well the city in thy dismai bound,

bim food; Her price is paid, and she is sold like thou ; He neither curs'd the one, nor thank'd the other. Let every ancient monument and tomb

The Sanhedrim bade scourge him, and myself Enlarge the border of its vaulted gloom,

Beheld him lash'd, till the bare bones stood out Their spacious chambers all are wanted now.

Through the maim'd flesh, still, still he only cried,

Woe to the City, till his patience wearied But nevermore shall yon lost city need

The angry persecutors. When they freed him, Those secret places for her future dead ;

'Twas still the same, the incessant Woe, woe, woe. Of all her children, when this night is pass'd,

But when our siege began, awhile he ceased, Devoted Salem's darkest, and her last, of all her children none is left to her,

As though his prophecy were fulfilled ; till now

We had not heard his dire and boding voice. Save those whose house is in the sepulchre.

Within. Woe! woe! woe! Yet, guilty city, who shall mourn for thee?

Joshua, the Son of Hannaniah.. Woe! woe! Shall Christian voices wail thy devastation ? A voice from the East ! a voice from the West ! Look down ! look down, avenged Calvary,

From the four winds a voice against Jerusalem! Upon thy late yet dreadful expiation.

A voice against the Temple of the Lord ! Oh ! long foretold, tho' slow accomplish'd fate, A voice against the Bridegrooms and the Brides ! * Her house is left unto her desolate ;"

A voice against all people of the land ! Proud Cæsar's ploughshare oʻer her ruins driven,

Woe! woe! woe ! Fulfils at length the tardy doom of heaven;

Second Jew. They are the very words, the very The wrathful vial's drops at length are pour'd

voice On the rebellious race that crucified their Lord !

Which we have heard so long. And yet, methinks,

There is a mournful triumph in the tone We now approach the closing scene; Ne'er heard before. His eyes, that were of old and here Mr. Milman has expended all Fixed on the earth, now wander all abroad, his strength. The portentous and pro

As though the tardy consurumation

Afflicted him with wonder.-Hark! again. digious night which witnesses the de

Chorus of Maidens. struction of Jerusalem, is rendered more

Now the jocund song is thine, ghastly and appalling by the untimely

Bride of David's kingly line ! marriage of Amariah and Salone. The How thy dove-like bosom trembleth, “ Terror wantoning with man's perplexity,"

And thy shrouded eye resembleth

Violets, when the dews of eve is made a thousand-fold more hideous A moist and tremulous glitter leave by the unnatural festivity. We shall

On the bashful sealed lid! best consult the genius of this part of

Close within the bride-veil hid.

Motionless thou sitt'st and mute ; the poem, by transcribing alternately

Save that at the soft salute
(as indeed they occur) bridal stave* Of each entering maiden friend
and agony of suffering, or prediction of Thou dost rise and softly bend.

Hark! a brisker, merrier glee !
The door unfolds, 'tis he, 'tis he.

Thus we list our lamps to meet hin), * For his fine ideas of these wedding cere

Thus we touch our lutes to greet hiin, monies, the author is indebted to Calmet, Har

Thou shalt give a fonder meeting, mer, and other illustrators of Scripture.

Thou shalt give a tenderer grecting.

Joshua. Woe! woe!

Ye die, but not amid your children's gore.
A voice from the East ! a voice from the West ! &c. But howl and weep, oh ye that are with child,
The high-priest enhances these aw-

Ye on whose bosoms unwean'd babes are laid ;

The sword that's with the mother's blood defiled sul warnings.

Still with the infant gluts the insatiate blade.

Fly! Ay! fly! Again the nuptial chaunt breaks in; Fly not, I say, for Death is every where, but soon after the harassed people sink To keen-eyed Lust all places are the same:

There's not a secret chamber in whose lair into a preternatural repose, thus grandly

Our wives can shroud them from th' abborred depicted by Miriam.

Ah me! how strange! Where the sword fails, the fire will find us there,
This moment, and the hurrying streets were full All, all is death-the Gentile or the flame.
As at a festival, now all's so silent

On to the Temple ! Brethren, Israel on!
That I might hear the footsteps of a child.

Though every slippery street with earpage swims, The sound of dissolute mirth hath ceas'd, the lamps Ho! spite of famish'd hearts and wounded himbs, Are spent, the voice of music broken ofl.

Still, still, while yet there stands one holy stone, No watchman's tread comes from the silent wall, Fight for your God , his sacred house to save, There are nor lights nor voices in the towers.

Or have its blazing ruins for your grave!
The hungry have given up their idle search
For food, the gazers on the heavens are gone,

Miriam, after an admirable dialogue Even Fear's at rest-all still as in a sepulchre !

with an old man who bad witnessed the And thou liest sleeping, oh Jerusalem ! A deeper slumber could not fall upon thee, crucifixion of Christ, is saved by Javan If thou wert desolate of all thy children,

in disguise, and these two Cbristians And thy mzed streets a dwelling-place for owls

are all who escape from captivity or I do mistake ! this is the Wilderness, The Desert, where winds pass and make no sound,

slaughter. The death of Salone is alAnd not the populous city, besieged

so most powerfully affecting : she is And overhung with tempest. Why, my voice, stabbed by her bridegroom, to prevent My motion, breaks upon the oppressive stillness

pollution from the Roman spoilers. Likea forbidden and disturbing sound. The very air's asleep, my feeblest breathing

She faints ! Look up, sweet sister ! I have stanch'd Is audible-I'll think my prayers--and then

The blood awhile-but her dim wandering eyes -Ha ! 'tis the thunder of the Living God!

Are fixing-she awakes-she speaks again. It peals! it crashes ! it comes down in fire!

Salone. Ah! brides, they say, should be retired, Again! it is the engine of the foe,

and dwell Our walls are dust before it-Wake-oh wake

Within, in modest secrecy ; yet here Oh Israel!--Oh Jerusalem, awake!

Am I, a this night's bride, in the open street, Why shouldst thou wake? thy foe is in the heavens. My naked feet on the cold stones, the wind Yưa, thy judicial slumber weighs thee down,

Blowing my raiment off-it's very coldAnd gives thee, oh! lost city, to the Gentile

Oh Amariah! let me lay my head
Defunceless, unresisting.

Upon thy bosom, and so fall asleep.
It rolls down,

Miriam. There is no Amariah beretis I,
As though the Everlasting raged not now

Thy Miriam. Against our guilty Zion, but did mingle

Salone. The Christian Miriam. The universal world in our destruction;

Miriam. Oh! that thou wert too Christian! I And all mankind were destined for a sacrifice

could give thee Ou Israel's funeral pile.

A cold and scanty baptism of my tears,

Oh ! shrink not from me, lift not up thy head, Relentless massacre

ensues : the

Thy dying head, from thy lov'd sister's lap. Jews flee to the Temple, and are slaughi Salone. Off! set me free! the song is almost tered by thousands. We can only

done, shortly illustrate it-

The bridegroom's at the door, and I must meet him,

Though my knees shake and tremble. If he come, Chorus of Jews flying towards the Temple.

And find me sad and cold, as I am now,

He will not love me as he did.
Fly! fly! fly!
Clouds, not of incense, from the Temple rise,

Miriam. Too true,
And there are altar-fires, but not of sacrifice.

Tlwu growest cold indeed.

Salone. Night closes round,
And there are vietims, yet por bulls nor goats ; Slumber is on my soul. If Amariah
And Priests are there, but not of Aaron's kin ;
And he that doth the murtherous site begin,

Return with morning, glorious and adornd
To stranger Gods his hecatomb devotes ;

In spoil, as he is wort, thou'lt wake me, sister? His hecatomb of Israel's chosen race

-Ah! no, no, no! this is no waking sleep. All foully slaughurd in their Holy Place.

It bursts upon me-Yes, and Simon's daughter, Break into joy, ye barrep, that ne'er bore !

The bride of Amariah, may not fear, Rejoice, ye breasts, where pe’er sweet infant hung!· Comes back, my soft love-melted heart is strong i

Nor shrink from dying. My halbfailing spirit from

you no smiling babes are wrung, I know it all, in mercy and in love

From you,

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