ROWENA INTRODUCED.

Ceas'd the bold strain, then deep the Saxon drain'd The ruddy cup, and savage joy uncouth Lit his blue gleaming eyes: nor sate unmov'd The Briton Chiefs; fierce thoughts began to rise Of ancient wars, and high ancestral fame. Sudden came floating through the hall an air So strangely sweet, the o'erwrought sense scarce felt Its rich excess of pleasure; softer sounds Melt never on the enchanted midnight cool, By haunted spring, where elfin dancers trace Green circlets on the moonlight dews; nor lull Becalmed mariner from rocks, where basks At summer noon the sea-maid; he his oar Breathless suspends, and motionless his bark Sleeps on the sleeping waters. Now the notes So gently died away, the silence seem'd Melodious; merry now and light and blithe They danced on air: anon came tripping forth In frolic grace a maiden troop, their locks [zone Flower-wreathed, their snowy robes from clasped Fell careless drooping, quick their glittering feet Glanc'd o'er the pavement. Then the pomp of sound Swell'd up, and mounted; as the stately swan, Her milk-white neck embowered in arching spray, Queens it along the waters, entered in The lofty hall a shape so fair, it lull'd The music into silence, yet itself Pour'd out, prolonging the soft extacy, The trembling and the touching of sweet sound. Her grace of motion and of look, the smooth And swimming majesty of step and tread, The symmetry of form and feature, set

The soul afloat, even like delicious airs

Of flute or harp: as though she trod from earth,
And round her wore an emanating cloud
Of harmony, the Lady mov'd. Too proud
For less than absolute command, too soft
For aught but gentle amorous thought: her hair
Cluster'd, as from an orb of gold cast out
A dazzling and o'erpowering radiance, save
Here and there on her snowy neck repos'd
In a sooth'd brilliance some thin wandering tress.
The azure flashing of her eye was fring'd
With virgin meekness, and her tread, that seem'd
Earth to disdain, as softly fell on it

As the light dew-shower on a tuft of flowers.
The soul within seem'd feasting on high thoughts,
That to the outward form and feature gave
A loveliness of scorn, scorn that to feel
Was bliss, was sweet indulgence. Fast sank back
Those her fair harbingers, their modest eyes,
Downcast, and drooping low their slender necks
In graceful reverence; she, by wond'ring gaze

Unmov'd, and stified murmurs of applause,
Nor yet unconscious, slowly won her way
To where the King, amid the festal pomp,
Sate loftiest; as she rais'd a fair-chas'd cup,
Something of sweet confusion overspread
Her features; something tremulous broke in
On her half-failing accents, as she said,
"Health to the King!"-the sparkling wine laugh'd
As eager 'twere to touch so fair a lip.

A moment, and the apparition bright
Had parted; as before, the sound of harps
Was wantoning about the festive hall.

[up,

HENGIST CONSULTS THE ORACLE.

And now have Hengist and Caswallon climb'd
The chariot of the Oracle: no wheels
Bear that strange car; like wind along the sea,
It glides along the rapid rein-deer's track.
Beauteous those gentle rein deer arched their necks
And cast their palmy antlers back, and spread
Their broad red nostrils to the wind; they hear
Old Hengist's voice, like arrows down the wind,
Like shot-stars through the welkin start they forth.
The car slides light, the deer bound fleet: they pass
Dark leagues of pine and fir, the filmy light,
Shivering with every motion of the wind,
On their brown path lies tremulous; o'er them sails,
Heard through the dismal foliage hissing shrill,
And hoarser groanings of the swaying boughs,
The funeral descant of the ominous birds.
Around them the prophetic milk white steeds,
Their necks yet virgin of the taming curb,
With all their loose long glories, arch, and pass
In solemn silence, and regardless paw
The unechoing earth. But that old German, set
Inflexible with bolder hand to draw

The veil of dusk futurity, disdains
These tamer omens. Still the car slides light,
The deer bound fleet, they pause not, save to quaff
The narrow cruise, to share their scanty store.
Like swallows o'er the glassy rivers smooth,
O'er the pellucid lake, with glittering breast
Yet wrinkled with its rippling waves, they skim;
The dead unstirring ocean bears them on;
Amid the immortal ice-hills wind they now.

In restless change, God's softer summer works
Glitter and fade, are born and die, but these,
Endiadem'd by undissolving snows,
High Potentates of winter's drear domain,
Accumulate their everlasting bulk;
Eternal and imperishable, stand
Amid Creation's swift inconstant round,
In majesty of silence undisturb'd,

Save when from their long-menacing brows they

shake

The ruining Avalanche; unvisited
By motion, but of sailing clouds, when sleets
From their unwasting granary barb their darts,
And the grim North wind loads his rimy wings.
Nor trace of man, save many a fathom deep,
Haply dark signs of some tall people strange,
That walk'd the infant earth, may shroud profound
Their legends inaccessible. They soar
In headlong precipice, or pyramid

Linking the earth and heaven, to which the piles
Where those Egyptian despots rot sublime,
Or even that frantic Babylonian tower,
Were frivolous domes for laughter and for scorn.

Nor wants soft interchange of vale, where smiles
White mimicry of foliage and thin flower.
Feathery and fanlike spreads the leafy ice,
With dropping cup, and roving tendril loose,
As though the glassy dews o'er flower and herb
Their silken moisture had congeal'd, and yet
Within that slender veil their knots profuse
Blossom'd and blush'd with tender life, the couch
Less various where the fabled Zephyr fans
With his mild wings his Flora's bloomy locks;
But colourless and cold, these flowering vales
Seem meeter for decrepit Winter's head
To lie in numb repose. The car slides light,
The deer bound fleet, the long gray wilderness
Hath something of a roseate glimmering dim,
And widens still its pale expanse: when lo,
A light of azure, wavering to display
No sights, no shapes of darkness and of fear.
Tremblingly flash'd the inconstant meteor light,
Shewing thin forms, like virgins of this earth,
Save that all signs of human joy or grief,
The flush of passion, smile or tear had seem'd
On the fix'd brightness of each dazzling cheek,
Strange and unnatural: statues not unlike
By nature, in fantastic mood congeal'd
From purest snow, the fair of earth to shame,
Surpassing beauteous: breath of mortal life
Heaved not their bosoms, and no rosy blood
Tinged their full veins, yet mov'd they, and their

steps

Were harmony. But three of that bright troop,
The loveliest and the wildest, stood aloof,
Enwrapt by what in human form were like
Impulse divine, of their fine nature seem'd
The eternal instinct. Them no less survey'd
Caswallon with the knitted brow of scorn,
Bitter he spake-" No marvel Saxon souls
Revel in war's delights, so stern, so fierce
Their deities." Severe with wrath supprest,
As one ill brooking that irreverent mirth
Scoff'd the wild lore, himself ne'er dared to doubt,
Answer'd the son of Woden. "These, proud

Chief,

So snowy, soft, and airy gentle, these
Are ministers of destiny and death,
The viewless Riders of the battle-field:

When sounds the rushing of their sable steeds,

Down sink the summon'd mighty, and expand Valhalla's cloudy portals; to their thrones, They the triumphant strangers lead, and pour Lavish the eternal beverage of the Gods.

THE FOUNTAIN OF SILOE-NIGHT.

JAVAN.

Sweet fountain, once again I visit thee!
And thou art flowing on, and freshening still
The green moss, and the flowers that bend to thee,
Modestly with a soft unboastful murmur
Rejoicing at the blessings that thou bearest.
Pure, stainless, thou art flowing on; the stars
Make thee their mirror, and the moonlight beams
Course one another o'er thy silver bosom:
And yet thy flowing is through fields of blood,
And armed men their hot and weary brows
Slake with thy limpid and perennial coolness.

Even with such rare and singular purity
Mov'st thou, oh Miriam! in yon cruel city.
Men's eyes o'erwearied with the sights of war,
With tumult and with grief, repose on thee
As on a refuge and a sweet refreshment.

Miriam.

Love thee! I am here,

Of frantic men in battle rack the soul
With their importunate and jarring din,
Javan, I think on thee, and am at peace.
Our famish'd maidens gaze on me, and see
That I am famish'd like themselves, as pale,
With lips as parch'd and eyes as wild, yet I
Sit patient with an enviable smile
On my wan cheeks, for then my spirit feasts
Contented on its pleasing thoughts of thee.
My very prayers are full of thee, I look
To heaven and bless thee; for from thee I learnt
The way by which we reach the eternal mansions.
But thou, injurious Javan! coldly doubtest.
And-Oh! but I have said too much. Oh! scorn not
The immodest maid, whom thou hast vex'd to utter
What yet she scarce dared whisper to herself.

Oh cease, I pray thee cease!
Javan! I know that all men hate my father;
Javan! I fear that all should hate my father;
And therefore, Javan, must his daughter's love,
Her dutiful, her deep, her fervent love,
Make up to his forlorn and desolate heart
The forfeited affections of his kind.

Is it not written so in our Law? and He
We worship came not to destroy the Law.
Then let men rain their curses, let the storm
Of human hate beat on his rugged trunk,
I will cling to him, starve, die, bear the scoffs
Of men upon my scatter'd bones with him.

Javan.

Oh, Miriam! what a fatal art hast thou
Of winding thought, word, act, to thy sole purpose;
The enamouring one even now too much enamour'd!
I must admire thee more for so denying,
Than I had dared if thou hadst fondly granted.
Thou dost devote thyself to utterest peril,
And me to deepest anguish; yet even now
Thou art lovelier to me in thy cold severity
Flying me, leaving me without a joy,
Without a hope on earth, without thyself;
Thou art lovelier now than if thy yielding soul
Had smiled on me a passionate consent.
Go; for I see thy parting homeward look,
Go in thy beauty! like a setting star,
The last in all the thick and moonless heavens,
O'er the lone traveller in the trackless desert.
Go! if this dark and miserable earth

Do jealously refuse us place for meeting,
There is a heaven for those who trust in Christ.
Farewell!

And thou return'st!

Miriam.

I had forgot

The fruit, the wine-Oh! when I part from thee, How can I think of ought but thy last words?

Javan.

Bless thee! but we may meet again even here! Thou look'st consent, I see it through thy tears. Yet once again that cold sad word, Farewell!

ODE, TO THE SAVIOUR.

-For thou wert born of woman! thou didst come,

Oh Holiest! to this world of sin and gloom,
Not in thy dread omnipotent array;

And not by thunders strew'd
Was thy tempestuous road;
Nor indignation burnt before thee on thy way.
But thee, a soft and naked child,
Thy mother undefil'd
In the rude manger laid to rest
From off her virgin breast.

The heavens were not commanded to prepare
A gorgeous canopy of golden air;

Norstoop'd their lamps th'enthroned fires on high:

Then bask'd in bright repose beneath the cloudless
While thou didst sleep within the tomb,

Consenting to thy doom;
Ere yet the white-rob'd angel shone
Upon the sealed stone.

And when thou didst arise, thou didst not stand
With Devastation in thy red right hand,
Plaguing the guilty city's murtherous crew :

But thou didst haste to meet
Thy mother's coming feet,

And bear the words of peace unto the faithful few.
Then calmly, slowly didst thou rise
Into thy native skies,
Thy human form dissolved on high
In its own radiancy.

CHORUS.

King of Kings! and Lord of Lords!
Thus we move, our sad steps timing
To our cymbals' feeblest chiming,
Where thy House its rest accords.
Chas'd and wounded birds are we,
Through the dark air fled to thee;
To the shadow of thy wings,
Lord of Lords! and King of Kings!

Behold, oh Lord! the Heathen tread
The branches of thy fruitful vine,
That its luxurious tendrils spread
O'er all the hills of Palestine.

And now the wild boar comes to waste
Even us, the greenest boughs and last,
That, drinking of thy choicest dew,
On Zion's hill, in beauty grew.

No! by the marvels of thine hand,
Thou wilt save thy chosen land!
By all thine ancient mercies shown,
By all our fathers' foes o'erthrown;
By the Egyptian's car-borne host,
Scatter'd on the Red Sea coast;
By that wide and bloodless slaughter
Underneath the drowning water.

Like us in utter helplessness,
In their last and worst distress-
On the sand and sea-weed lying,
Israel pour'd her doleful sighing;
While before the deep sea flow'd,
And behind fierce Egypt rode-
To their fathers' God they pray'd,
To the Lord of Hosts for aid.

On the margin of the flood

With lifted rod the Prophet stood;
And the summon'd east wind blew,

And aside it sternly threw

The gather'd waves, that took their stand,

Like crystal rocks, on either hand,

Or walls of sea-green marble piled
Round some irregular city wild.

Then the light of morning lay
On the wonder-paved way,
Where the treasures of the deep
In their caves of coral sleep.
The profound abysses, where
Was never sound from upper air,
Rang with Israel's chanted words,
King of Kings! and Lord of Lords!

Then with bow and banner glancing,
On exulting Egypt came,

With her chosen horsemen prancing,
And her cars on wheels of flame,
In a rich and boastful ring,
All around her furious king.

But the Lord from out his cloud,
The Lord look'd down upon the proud;
And the host drave heavily
Down the deep bosom of the sea.

With a quick and sudden swell
Prone the liquid ramparts fell;
Over horse, and over car,
Over every man of war,
Over Pharaoh's crown of gold
The loud thundering billows roll'd.
As the level waters spread
Down they sank, they sank like lead,
Down sank without a cry or groan.
And the morning sun, that shone
On myriads of bright-armed men,
Its meridian radiance then

Cast on a wide sea, heaving as of yore,
Against a silent, solitary shore.

MARRIAGE HYMN.

To the sound of timbrels sweet,
Moving slow our solemn feet,
We have borne thee on the road,
To the virgin's blest abode;
With thy yellow torches gleaming,
And thy scarlet mantle streaming,
And the canopy above
Swaying as we slowly move.

And now we set thee down before
The jealously-unclosing door,
That the favour'd youth admits
Where the veiled virgin sits
In the bliss of maiden fear,
Waiting our soft tread to hear;
And the music's brisker din,
At the Bridegroom's entering in,
Entering in a welcome guest
To the chamber of his rest.

CHORUS OF MAIDENS.

Now the jocund song is thine,
Bride of David's kingly line!
How thy dove-like bosom trembleth,
And thy shrouded eye resembleth
Violets, when the dews of eve
A moist and tremulous glitter leave
On the bashful sealed lid!
Close within the bride-veil hid,
Motionless thou sit'st and mute;
Save that at the soft salute
Of each entering maiden friend
Thou dost rise and softly bend.

Hark! a brisker, merrier glee!
The door unfolds, -'tis he, 'tis he.
Thus we lift our lamps to meet him,
Thus we touch our lutes to greet him.
Thou shalt give a fonder meeting,
Thou shalt give a tenderer greeting.

CHORUS OF YOUTHS AND MAIDENS.

Under a happy planet art thou led, Oh, chosen Virgin, to thy bridal bed. So put off thy soft and bashful sadness, And wipe away the timid maiden tear,Lo! redolent with the Prophet's oil of gladness, And mark'd by heaven, the Bridegroom youth is here.

CHORUS.

Joy to thee, beautiful and bashful Bride!

Joy! for the thrills of pride and joy become thee: Thy curse of barrenness is taken from thee.

Thou hast left the joyous feast,
And the mirth and wine have ceast;

And thou shalt see the rosy infant sleeping
Upon the snowy fountain of thy breast;
And thou shalt feel how mothers' hearts are blest

By hours of bliss for moment's pain and weeping.