Part 43 (2/2)

Ah! do you not see that wild eye?

List--do you hear that mother speak For her son that is doom'd to die?

Behold the eloquence of love!

A mother for her child distress'd: A gush of feeling from above Invades and fills her yearning breast.

That flood of tears,--those wringing hands, Mark her abandonment of soul, As, list'ning to the king's commands, Her grief refuses all control.

My child! my child!--(tho' she betray it,) ”The living child” give to my foe!

'Where is my child?--Oh! do not slay it!

Let me my arms around it throw!'

Thus nature's impulse bursting forth, Reveals the mother's kindred blood, And stamps upon her claim the truth: Whilst foil'd the guilty claimant stood.

Such love breathes not in courts, where meet Soft, studied ease and pamper'd vice: As soon you'll find the genial heat Of nature's sun in fields of ice!

And that fond soul was one like she Who bathed the Saviour's feet with tears: And hers, like Mary's ecstasy, Flows from the influence of prayers:

For, Solomon had sought of G.o.d Not h.o.a.rds of wealth, nor ”length of days:”

But holy unction from His rod, The bright indwelling of Truth's rays.

A VIEW FROM MOUNT CARMEL.

And Elijah went up to the top of Carmel; and he cast himself down upon the earth, and put his face between his knees. And said to his servant, 'Go up now, look towards the sea.' And he went up, and looked, and said, 'There is nothing.' And he said, Go again seven times. And it came to pa.s.s at the seventh time, that he said, behold, there ariseth a little cloud out of the sea, like a man's hand.

--I Kings 18:42,41.

Up Carmel's wood-clad height an aged prophet slowly creeps, And sadly drags his weary limbs o'er rocks and mossgrown steeps.

He bows himself upon the earth, ”his face between his knees,”

And thus he to his servant speaks, beneath the lofty trees.

”Go further up this craggy steep, and seaward look, I pray--”

His faithful servant goes, and strains his vision towards that way, But says ”there's nothing.”--”Go sev'n times,” the prophet says ”for me,--”

And on the seventh time, behold! arising from the sea,

A little cloud, as 'twere, no bigger than a human hand,-- But swiftly, darkly spreading o'er the parched, thirsty land, It widely displays its threatening armies thro' the sky, Its lurid lightnings flash in forked streaks upon the eye.

Like countless fiery serpents thro' the troubled air, Whilst loud the roaring thunder bursts amid the flaming glare; And rage the winds, uprooting mountain oaks before the view,-- Refres.h.i.+ng show'rs descend, and quick the fainting earth renew.

Scarcely could Israel's monarch in his chariot reach his court, Ere nature's pent up elements broke forth in airy sport, And to earth (which for three long years had known nor rain nor dew,) The long desired drops, their welcome downward course pursue.

Once more Samaria's people gladly tune their harps and sing The praises of Jehovah, G.o.d, the everlasting King:-- Once more, the voice of gladness sounds where naught but anguish dwelt; There, once again, the gush of rapture, absent long, is felt!

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