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If the bad never triumph, then God is with thee!
have lost for that faith more than thou canst bestow As the God who permits thee to prosper doth know; In his hand is my heart and my hope and in thine The land and the life which for him I resign.
HEROD'S LAMENT FOR MARIAMNE.
Он, Mariamne! now for thee
The heart for which thou bled'st is bleeding; Revenge is lost in agony,
And wild remorse to rage succeeding. Oh, Mariamne! where art thou?
Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading: Ah, couldst thou - thou wouldst pardon now, Though Heaven were to my prayer unheeding.
And is she dead? — and did they dare
The sword that smote her 's o'er me waving. But thou art cold, my murder'd love!
And this dark heart is vainly craving For her who soars alone above,
And leaves my soul unworthy saving.
Whose leaves for me alone were blooming;
And mine 's the guilt and mine the hell,
ON THE DAY OF THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM BY TITUS.
FROM the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome
I look'd for thy temple, I look'd for my home,
On many an eve, the high spot whence I gazed
And now on that mountain I stood on that day,
But the Gods of the Pagan shall never profane
BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON WE SAT DOWN AND WEPT.
WE sate down and wept by the waters
And ye, oh her desolate daughters!
While sadly we gazed on the river
On the willow that harp is suspended,
Oh Salem! its sound should be free;
And ne'er shall its soft tones be blended
THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.
THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail;
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
A SPIRIT pass'd before me: I beheld
Deep sleep came down on every eye save mine
"Is man more just than God? Is man more pure Than he who deems even Seraphs insecure? Creatures of clay-vain dwellers in the dust! The moth survives you, and are ye more just? Things of a day! you wither ere the night, Heedless and blind to Wisdom's wasted light!"