"A surge is in Euphrates' bed, That never filled its bed before; A surge, that ere the morn be red, Shall load with death its mighty shore. "Behold a tide of Persian steel! A torrent of the Median car; He listened; all again was still! He heard no chariot's iron clang; He heard the fountain's gushing rill, The breeze that through the roses sang. He slept; in sleep wild murmurs came; 66 Sleep, Sultan! 'tis thy final sleep; Or wake or sleep, the guilty dies; He started; 'mid the battle's yell He saw the Persians rushing on; He saw the flames around him swell; Thou'rt ashes, King of Babylon! GEORGE CROLY 71 HELIODORUS IN THE TEMPLE II Maccabees iii. 21-29 A sound of woe in Salem!-mournful cries Rose from her dwellings-youthful cheeks were pale, Tears flowing fast from dim and agèd eyes, And voices mingling in tumultuous wail; Hands raised to heaven in agony of prayer, And powerless wrath, and terror, and despair. Thy daughters, Judah, weeping, laid aside The regal splendor of their fair array; With the rude sackcloth girt their beauty's pride, And thronged the streets in hurrying, wild dis may; While knelt the priests before His awful shrine Its courts and pillars rich with sculptured gold; And man, with eye unhallowed, views th'abode, The sacred spot, the dwelling-place of God. Where art Thou, Mighty Presence, that of yore Angel of God! that through th’Assyrian host, Wilt thou not wake, O Chastener, in Thy might, Fearless of Thee, the plunderer, undismayed, Away, intruders!—hark! a mighty sound! His neck is clothed with thunder, and his mane Is as a meteor; ardent with disdain His glance; his gesture, fierce in majesty! Instinct with light he seems, and formed to bear But who is he, in panoply of gold, Throned on that burning charger? Bright his form, Yet in its brightness awful to behold, And girt with all the terrors of the storm! Lightning is on his helmet's crest, and fear Shrinks from the splendor of his brow severe. And by his side two radiant warriors stand All-armed, and kingly in commanding grace; Then sinks each gazer's heart; each knee is bowed Bursts on their leader in terrific might; Darkness-thick darkness!-low on earth he lies, Rash Heliodorus--motionless and pale; Bloodless his cheek, and o'er his shrouded eyes Mists, as of death, suspend their shadowy veil; And thus the oppressor by his fear-struck train Is borne from that inviolable fane. |