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I.

INVOCATION.

As the tired voyager on stormy seas
Invokes the coming of bright birds from shore,
To waft him tidings, with the gentler breeze,

Of dim sweet woods that hear no billows roar ; So from the depth of days, when earth yet wore Her solemn beauty and primeval dew,

I call you, gracious Forms! Oh! come, restore Awhile that holy freshness, and renew

Life's morning dreams. Come with the voice, the lyre, Daughters of Judah! with the timbrel rise!

Ye of the dark prophetic eastern eyes,

Imperial in their visionary fire;

Oh! steep my soul in that old glorious time,

When God's own whisper shook the cedars of your

clime!

II.

INVOCATION CONTINUED.

And come, ye faithful! round Messiah seen,
With a soft harmony of tears and light
Streaming through all your spiritual mien,

As in calm clouds of pearly stillness bright,

Showers weave with sunshine, and transpierce their

slight

Ethereal cradle.-From your heart subdued

All haughty dreams of power had wing'd their flight, And left high place for martyr fortitude,

True faith, long suffering love.-Come to me, come!
And, as the seas beneath your master's tread
Fell into crystal smoothness, round him spread

Like the clear pavement of his heavenly home;
So in your presence, let the soul's great deep
Sink to the gentleness of infant sleep.

III.

THE SONG OF MIRIAM.

A song for Israel's God!-Spear, crest, and helm,
Lay by the billows of the old Red Sea,

When Miriam's voice o'er that sepulchral realm
Sent on the blast a hymn of jubilee ;

With her lit eye, and long hair floating free,
Queen-like she stood, and glorious was the strain,

E'en as instinct with the tempestuous glee

Of the dark waters, tossing o'er the slain.

A song for God's own victory!-O, thy lays,
Bright Poesy! were holy in their birth :-
How hath it died, thy seraph note of praise,
In the bewildering melodies of earth!
Return from troubling bitter founts-return,
Back to the life-springs of thy native urn!

IV.

RUTH.

The plume-like swaying of the auburn corn,
By soft winds to a dreamy motion fann'd,
Still brings me back thine image-Oh! forlorn,
Yet not forsaken, Ruth!—I see thee stand
Lone, midst the gladness of the harvest band—
Lone as a wood-bird on the ocean's foam,

Fall'n in its weariness. Thy father land

Smiles far away! yet to the sense of home,

That finest, purest, which can recognize Home in affection's glance, for ever true Beats thy calm heart; and if thy gentle eyes

Gleam tremulous through tears, 'tis not to rue Those words, immortal in their deep Love's tone,

Thy people and thy God shall be mine own!"

V.

THE VIGIL OF RIZPAH.

"And Rizpah, the daughter of Aiah, took sackcloth, and spread it for her upon the rock, from the beginning of harvest until water dropped upon them out of heaven; and suffered neither the birds of the air to rest on them by day, nor the beasts of the field by night."-2 Sam. xxi. 10.

Who watches on the mountain with the dead,
Alone before the awfulness of night?-

A seer awaiting the deep spirit's might?
A warrior guarding some dark pass of dread?
No, a lorn woman !-On her drooping head,

Once proudly graceful, heavy beats the rain;
She recks not-living for the unburied slain,
Only to scare the vulture from their bed.

So, night by night, her vigil hath she kept
With the pale stars, and with the dews hath wept ;-
Oh! surely some bright Presence from above
On those wild rocks the lonely one must aid!—
E'en so; a strengthener through all storm and shade,

Th' unconquerable Angel, mightiest Love!

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