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Yet,* the one was my calling, thy portion the | Thou hadst ceased—having taught them what other;
rock to rely on, The far shores of India received thee, and blest, And had doft the proud robes which to prelates And its lowliest of teachers dared greet as a bro belong, ther,
But the next robe for thee was the white robe of And love thee, though clad in the prelate's Zion, * proud vest.
The next hymn thou heard'st was "the sera
phim's song.” In the meek humble Christian forgot was thy greatness,
Here hushed be my lay for a far sweeter verse The follower they saw of a crucified Lord, For thy zeal showed his spirit, thy accents his For the bard's votive offering to hang on thy hearse,
Thy requiem l'll breathe in thy numbers alone, sweetness,
Should be formed of no language less sweet And the heart of the heathen drank deep of the
than thy own. word. Bright as short was thy course, when“ a coal + "Thou art gone to the grave, but we will not from the altar"
deplore thee, Had touched thy blest lip, and the voice bade Since God was thy refuge, thy ransom, thy thee "Go,"
guide; Thy haste could not pause, and thy step could He gave thee, He took thee, and He will restore not falter,
thee, Till o'er India's wide seas had advanced thy And death has no sting, since the Saviour has
In vain her fierce sun, with its cloudless efful
gence, Seemed arrows of death to shoot forth with
Thy faith gave to fear and fatigue no indulgence,
bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace; that bringeth And, martyr of zeal! thou e'en here wert rewarded, good tidings of good, that publisheth salvation !—Isaiah, lii. 7. When the dark sons of India came round thee
in throngs, While thee as a father they fondly regarded,
How bright and glorious are the sun's first gleams Who taught them and blessed in their own na
Above yon blue horizon!—Darkness flies tive tongues.
Before his presence.-Mountains, vallies, When thou heard'st them, their faith's awful er trees, rors disclaiming,
Glow with resplendent beauty.–And the streams Profess the pure creed which the Saviour had Reflect the lustre of his orient beams. given,
So Heber shone-for unto him was given Those moments thy mission's blest triumph pro
To spread the tidings of salvation round, claiming,
Whilst heathen nations caught the joyful Gave joy which to thee seemed a foretaste of
And learned to kneel before the shrine of Heaven;
That cross surmounted shrine," where Faith Still "On,” cried the voice, and surrounding their
and Prayer altar,
Point to the crown of bliss, reserved there Trichonopoly's sons hailed thy labours of love: For those whom Jesus loves—but his bright sun Ah me! with no fear did thine accents then falter; Of glory set, ere yet its race was run,
No secret forebodings thy conscious heart move? And he that bliss has gained—that crown has won! . At first he refused the appointment, but, "after devout prayer” he accepted it, thinking it was his duty to do so. * He had scarcely put off his robes in which he officiated at
* When they gathered round him on Easter-day evening to the altar, when he was suddenly called away "to be clothed the number of thirteen hundred, and he blessed them in their with immortality."---Robinson's Sermon. native tongue, he exclaimed, “that he would gladly purchase 1 Written by Bishop Heber on the death of a friend See that day with years of his life.” — Robinson's Sermon.
REGINALD HEBER, D.D.
LORD BISHOP OF CALCUTTA.
IN THE YEAR MDCCCIII.
Rest of thy sons, amid thy foes forlorn,
O happy once in heaven's peculiar love, Mourn, widowed queen, forgotten Sion, mourn! Delight of men below, and saints above ! Is this thy place, sad City, this thy throne, Though, Salem, now the spoiler’s ruffian hand Where the wild desert rears its craggy stone ? Has loosed his hell-hounds o'er thy wasted land ; While suns unblest their angry lustre fling, Though weak, and whelmed beneath the storms And way-worn pilgrims seek the scanty spring ?
of fate, Where now thy pomp, which kings with envy Thy house is left unto thee desolate ;(6) viewed ?
Though thy proud stones in cumbrous ruin fall, Where now thy might, which all those kings sub- And seas of sand o’ertop thy mouldering wall; dued ?
Yet shall the Muse to Fancy's ardent view No martial myriads muster in thy gate ; Each shadowy trace of faded pomp renew : No suppliant nations in thy Temple wait; And as the Seer(7) on Pisgah's topmost brow No prophet bards, thy glittering courts among, With glistening eye beheld the plain below, Wake the full lyre, and swell the tide of song: With prescient ardour drank the scented gale, But lawless Force, and meagre Want is there, And bade the opening glades of Canaan hail; And the quick-darting eye of restless Fear; Her eagle eye shall scan the prospect widle, While cold Oblivion, 'mid thy ruins laid, From Carmel's cliffs to Almotana's tide ;(8) Folds bis dank wing(1) beneath the ivy shade. The flinty waste, the cedar-tufted hill,
Ye guardian saints! ye warrior sons of heaven,(2) The liquid health of smooth Ardeni's rill; To whose high care Judæa's state was given ! The grot, where, by the watch-fire's evening blaze, O wont of old your nightly watch to keep, The robber riots, or the hermit prays ;(9) A host of gods, on Sion's towery steep!(3) Or, where the tempest rives the hoary stone, If e'er your secret footsteps linger still
The wintry top of giant Lebanon. By Siloa's fount, or Tabor's echoing hill;
Fierce, hardy, proud, in conscious freedom bold,
What though no more for you th' obedient gale Was it for this she stretched her peopled reign
Not, when fierce Conquest urged the onward war,
Yet shines your praise, amid surrounding gloom, Nor, when five monarchs led to Gibeon's fight,
And God's own darkness veiled her mystic height:
In heaven's own strength, high towering o'er her
And spake of every plant that quaffs the dew;
Yet e'en the works of toiling Genü fall,
Strange shapes he views, and drinks with won-Messiah comes: let furious discord cease : dering ears
Be peace on earth before the Prince of Peace! The voices of the dead, and songs of other years. Disease and anguish feel his blest control,
Such, the faint echo of departed praise, And howling fiends release the tortured soul; Still sound Arabia's legendary lays;
The beams of gladness hell's dark caves illume, And thus their fabling barus delight to tell And Mercy broods above the distant gloom. How lovely were thy tents, O Israel!(27)
Thou palsied earth, with noonday night o'erFor thee his iv'ry load Behemoth bore (28)
spread! And far Sofala teemned with golden ore ;(29) Thou sick’ning sun, so dark, so deep, so red! Thine all the arts that wait on wealth's increase, Ye hov'ring ghosts, that throng the starless air, Or bask and wanton in the beam of peace. Why shakes the earth? why fades the light? deWhen Tyber slept beneath the cypress gloom, clare! And silence held the lonely woods of Rome; Are those his limbs, with ruthless scourges torn? Or ere to Greece the builder's skill was known, His brows, all bleeding with the twisted thorn? Or the light chisel brushed the Parian stone; His the pale form, the meek forgiving eye Yet here fair Science nursed her infant fire, Raised froin the cross in patient agony? Fanned by the artist aid of friendly Tyre. -Be dark, thou sun—thou noonday night arise Then towered the palace, then in awful state And hide, oh hide, the dreadful sacrifice! The temple reared its everlasting gate (30) Ye faithful few, by bold affection led, No workman steel, no pond'rous axes rung ;(31) Who round the Saviour's cross your sorrows shed, Like some tall palm the noiseless fabric sprung. Not for his sake your tearful vigils keep ;- [(34) Majestic silence !—then the harp awoke, Weep for your country, for your children weep! The cymbal clanged, the deep-voiced trumpet -Vengeance! thy fiery wing their race pursued; spoke;
Thy thirsty poniard blushed with infant blood. And Salem spread her suppliant arms abroad, Roused at thy call, and panting still for game, Viewed the descending flame, and blessed the pre- The bird of war, the Latian eagle came. sent God!(32)
Then Judah raged, by ruffian Discord led, Nor shrunk she then, when, raging deep and Drunk with the steamy carnage of the dead; loud,
He saw his sons by dubious slaughter fall, Beat o'er her soul the billows of the proud.(33) And war without, and death within the wall. E'en they who, dragged to Shinar's fiery sand, Wide-wasting Plague, gaunt Famine, mad DeTilled with reluctant strength the stranger's land; spair, Who sadly told the slow-revolving years, And dire Debate, and clamorous Strife were And steeped the captive's bitter bread with tears; there: Yet oft their hearts with kindling hopes would Love, strong as Death, retained his might no burn,
more, Their destined triumphs, and their glad return, And the pale parent drank her children's gore.(35) And their sad lyres, which, silent and unstrung, Yet they, who wont to roam th’ensanguined plain, In mournful ranks on Babel's willows hung, And spurn with fell delight their kindred slain; Would oft awake to chant their future fame, E'en they, when, high above the dusty fight, And from the skies their ling'ring Saviour claim. Their burning Temple rose in lurid light, His promised aid could every fear control; To their loved altars paid a parting groan, This nerved and warrior's arm, this steeled the And in their country's woes forgot their own. martyr's soul!
As ʼmid the cedar courts, and gates of gold, Nor vain their hope :—Bright beaming through The trampled ranks in miry carnage rolled, the sky,
To save their Temple every hand essayed, Burst in full blaze the Day-spring from on high; And with cold fingers grasped the feeble blade: Earth's utmost isles exulted at the sight, Through their torn veins reviving fury ran, And crowding nations drank the orient light. And life's last anger warmed the dying man! Lo, star-led chiefs Assyrian odours bring, But heavier far the fettered captive's doom! And bending Magi seek their infant King ! To glut with sighs the iron ear of Rome: Marked ye, where, hov'ring o'er his radiant head, To swell, slow-pacing by the car's tall side, The dove's white wings celestial glory shed? The stoic tyrant's philosophic pride ;(36) Daughter of Sion! virgin queen! rejoice! To flesh the lion's rav'nous jaws, or feel Clap the glad hand, and lift the exulting voice! The sportive fury of the fencer's steel; He comes,—but not in regal splendour drest, Or pant, deep plunged beneath the sultry mine, The haughty diadem, the 'Tyrian vest;
For the light gales of balmy Palestine. Not armed in flame, all glorious froin afar,
Ah! fruitful now no more, an empty coast, Of hosts the chieftain, and the lord of war: She mourned her sons enslaved, her glories lost :