Volume Iii Part 9 (1/2)

Blazing in pearls and diamonds' sheen.

Tirzah, the young Ahirad's bride, Of humankind the destined queen, Sits by her great forefather's side.

The jetty curls, the forehead high, The swan like neck, the eagle face, The glowing cheek, the rich dark eye, Proclaim her of the elder race.

With flowing locks of auburn hue, And features smooth, and eye of blue, Timid in love as brave in arms, The gentle heir of Seth askance s.n.a.t.c.hes a bashful, ardent glance At her majestic charms; Blest when across that brow high musing flashes A deeper tint of rose, Thrice blest when from beneath the silken lashes Of her proud eye she throws The smile of blended fondness and disdain Which marks the daughters of the house of Cain.

All hearts are light around the hall Save his who is the lord of all.

The painted roofs, the attendant train, The lights, the banquet, all are vain.

He sees them not. His fancy strays To other scenes and other days.

A cot by a lone forest's edge, A fountain murmuring through the trees, A garden with a wildflower hedge, Whence sounds the music of the bees, A little flock of sheep at rest Upon a mountain's swarthy breast.

On his rude spade he seems to lean Beside the well remembered stone, Rejoicing o'er the promised green Of the first harvest man hath sown.

He sees his mother's tears; His father's voice he hears, Kind as when first it praised his youthful skill.

And soon a seraph-child, In boyish rapture wild, With a light crook comes bounding from the hill, Kisses his hands, and strokes his face, And nestles close in his embrace.

In his adamantine eye None might discern his agony; But they who had grown h.o.a.ry next his side, And read his stern dark face with deepest skill, Could trace strange meanings in that lip of pride, Which for one moment quivered and was still.

No time for them to mark or him to feel Those inward stings; for clarion, flute, and lyre, And the rich voices of a countless quire, Burst on the ear in one triumphant peal.

In breathless transport sits the admiring throng, As sink and swell the notes of Jubal's lofty song.

”Sound the timbrel, strike the lyre, Wake the trumpet's blast of fire, Till the gilded arches ring.

Empire, victory, and fame, Be ascribed unto the name Of our father and our king.

Of the deeds which he hath done, Of the spoils which he hath won, Let his grateful children sing.

When the deadly fight was fought, When the great revenge was wrought, When on the slaughtered victims lay The minion stiff and cold as they, Doomed to exile, sealed with flame, From the west the wanderer came.

Six score years and six he strayed A hunter through the forest shade.

The lion's s.h.a.ggy jaws he tore, To earth he smote the foaming boar, He crushed the dragon's fiery crest, And scaled the condor's dizzy nest; Till hardy sons and daughters fair Increased around his woodland lair.

Then his victorious bow unstrung On the great bison's horn he hung.

Giraffe and elk he left to hold The wilderness of boughs in peace, And trained his youth to pen the fold, To press the cream, and weave the fleece.

As shrunk the streamlet in its bed, As black and scant the herbage grew, O'er endless plains his flocks he led Still to new brooks and postures new.

So strayed he till the white pavilions Of his camp were told by millions, Till his children's households seven Were numerous as the stars of heaven.

Then he bade us rove no more; And in the place that pleased him best, On the great river's fertile sh.o.r.e, He fixed the city of his rest.

He taught us then to bind the sheaves, To strain the palm's delicious milk, And from the dark green mulberry leaves To cull the filmy silk.

Then first from straw-built mansions roamed O'er flower-beds trim the skilful bees; Then first the purple wine vats foamed Around the laughing peasant's knees; And olive-yards, and orchards green, O'er all the hills of Nod were seen.

”Of our father and our king Let his grateful children sing.

From him our race its being draws, His are our arts, and his our laws.

Like himself he bade us be, Proud, and brave, and fierce, and free.

True, through every turn of fate, In our friends.h.i.+p and our hate.

Calm to watch, yet prompt to dare; Quick to feel, yet firm to bear; Only timid, only weak, Before sweet woman's eye and cheek.

We will not serve, we will not know, The G.o.d who is our father's foe.

In our proud cities to his name No temples rise, no altars flame.

Our flocks of sheep, our groves of spice, To him afford no sacrifice.

Enough that once the House of Cain Hath courted with oblation vain The sullen power above.

Henceforth we bear the yoke no more; The only G.o.ds whom we adore Are glory, vengeance, love.

”Of our father and our king Let his grateful children sing.

What eye of living thing may brook On his blazing brow to look?

What might of living thing may stand Against the strength of his right hand?

First he led his armies forth Against the Mammoths of the north, What time they wasted in their pride Pasture and vineyard far and wide.

Then the White River's icy flood Was thawed with fire and dyed with blood, And heard for many a league the sound Of the pine forests blazing round, And the death-howl and trampling din Of the gigantic herd within.

From the surging sea of flame Forth the tortured monsters came; As of breakers on the sh.o.r.e Was their onset and their roar; As the cedar-trees of G.o.d Stood the stately ranks of Nod.

One long night and one short day The sword was lifted up to slay.

Then marched the firstborn and his sons O'er the white ashes of the wood, And counted of that savage brood Nine times nine thousand skeletons.

”On the snow with carnage red The wood is piled, the skins are spread.