Sink down in reverie profound;

There is no voice, no speech, no sound, But through the shuddering frame is thrown The heart's unutterable groan.

Entranced they sit, nor seem to breathe,
Themselves like spectres from the dead;
Where, shrined in rocks above, beneath,
With clods along the valley spread,
Their ancestors, each on his bed,
Repose, till at the judgment-day,
Death and the grave give up their

Before their eyes, as in a glass,

gaze

prey.

on vacancy

-Their eyes that
Pageants of ancient grandeur pass,
But, "Ichabod" on all they see
Brands Israel's foul apostasy;

-Then last and worst, and crowning all
Their crimes and sufferings-Salem's fall.

Nor breeze, nor bird, nor palm-tree stirs,
Kedron's unwater'd brook is dumb;

But through the glen of sepulchres
Is heard the city's fervid hum,
Voices of dogs and children come :
Till loud and long the medzin's* cry,
From Omar's mosque, peals round the sky.

* More properly "muedhin's," the person whose business it is to call the Mohammedans to prayer; no bells being used by them for that purpose.

Blight through their veins those accents send;

In agony of mute despair,

Their garments, as by stealth, they rend;
Unconsciously they pluck their hair;
-This is the Moslem's hour of prayer!
'Twas Judah's once, but fane and priest,
Altar and sacrifice, have ceased.

And by the Gentiles, in their pride,
Jerusalem is trodden down:

"How long?—for ever wilt thou hide
Thy face, O LORD;-for ever frown?
Israel was once thy glorious crown,
In sight of all the nations worn ;
Now from thy brow in anger torn.

"Zion, forsaken and forgot,

Hath felt thy stroke, and owns it just;

O GOD, our GOD! reject us not,
Her sons take pleasure in her dust:
How is the fine gold dimm'd with rust!
The city throned in gorgeous state,
How doth she now sit desolate !

"Where is thine oath to David sworn? We by the winds like chaff are driven :

Yet unto us a Child is born,

Yet unto us a Son is given;

His throne is as the days of Heaven:
When shall He come to our release,
The mighty GOD, the Prince of Peace?'

PART III.

Thus blind with unbelief they cry,
But hope revisits not their glooms;
Seal'd are the words of prophecy,

Seal'd as the secrets of yon tombs,

Where all is dark,—though nature blooms, Birds sing, streams murmur, heaven above, And earth around, are life, light, love.

The sun goes down ;

-the mourning crowds,

Re-quicken'd, as from slumber start;
They met in silence here like clouds,
Like clouds in silence they depart:
Still clings the thought to every heart,
Still from their lips escapes in sighs,
"By whom shall Jacob yet arise?"

By whom shall Jacob yet arise?

-Even by the Power that wakes the dead: He whom your fathers did despise, He who for you on Calvary bled, On Zion shall his ensign spread;

-Captives! by all the world enslaved, Know your Redeemer, and be saved!

1828.

A CRY FROM SOUTH AFRICA:

On building a Chapel at Cape Town, for the Negro Slaves of the colony, in 1828.

AFRIC, from her remotest strand,

Lifts to high heaven one fetter'd hand,

And to the utmost of her chain

Stretches the other o'er the main :

Then, kneeling 'midst ten thousand slaves,
Utters a cry across the waves,

Of power to reach to either pole,

And pierce, like conscience, through the soul,
Though dreary, faint, and low the sound,

Like life-blood gurgling from a wound,

As if her heart, before it broke,
Had found a human tongue, and spoke.

"Britain! not now I ask of thee
Freedom, the right of bond and free;
Let Mammon hold, while Mammon can,
The bones and blood of living man;
Let tyrants scorn, while tyrants dare,
The shrieks and writhings of despair;
An end will come-it will not wait,
Bands, yokes, and scourges have their date,

Slavery itself must pass away,
And be a tale of yesterday.

But now I urge a dearer claim,
And urge it by a mightier name:
Hope of the world! on thee I call,
By the great Father of us all,
By the Redeemer of our race,
And by the Spirit of all grace,
Turn not, Britannia, from my plea;

-So help thee GOD as thou help'st me!
Mine outcast children come to light
From darkness, and go down in night;
A night of more mysterious gloom
Than that which wrapt them in the womb:
Oh that the womb had been the grave
Of every being born a slave!

Oh! that the grave itself might close

The slave's unutterable woes!

But what beyond that gulf may be,

What portion in eternity,

For those who live to curse their breath,

And die without a hope in death,

I know not, and I dare not think;

Yet, while I shudder o'er the brink
Of that unfathomable deep,

Where wrath lies chain'd and judgments sleep,
To thee, thou paradise of isles!
Where mercy in full glory smiles;
Eden of lands! o'er all the rest
By blessing others doubly blest,