PALESTINE. Blest land of Judea! thrice hallow'd of song, With the eye of a spirit I look on that shore, Lo, Bethlehem's hill-side before me is seen, And Bethany's palm-trees in beauty still throw I tread where the TWELVE in their wayfaring trod; I stand where they stood with the CHOSEN of God,- Oh, here with His flock the sad Wanderer came,- And throned on her hills sits Jerusalem yet, But with dust on her forehead, and chains on her feet; But wherefore this dream of the earthly abode Not in clouds and in terrors, but gentle as when, And the voice which breathed peace to the waves of the sea, And what if my feet may not tread where He stood, Yet, Loved of the Father, Thy Spirit is near Oh, the outward hath gone!-but, in glory and power, CLERICAL OPPRESSORS. [In the Report of the celebrated pro-slavery meeting in Charleston, South Carolina, on he 4th of 9th month, 1835, published in the "Courier" of that city, it is stated,-"The CLERGY of all denominations attended in a body, LENDING THEIR SANCTION TO THE PROCEEDINGS, and adding by their presence to the impressive character of the scene."] Just God! and these are they Who minister at thine altar, God of Right! What! preach, and kidnap men? Give thanks, and rob Thy own afflicted poor? What! servants of Thy own Merciful Son, who came to seek and save Pilot and Herod, friends! Chief priests and rulers, as of old, combine! Paid hypocrites, who turn Judgment aside, and rob the Holy Book Of those high words of truth which search and burn Feed fat, ye locusts, feed! And, in your tassell'd pulpits, thank the Lord How long, O Lord! how long Shall such a priesthood barter truth away, Is not Thy hand stretch'd forth Woe, then, to all who grind Their brethren of a common Father down! Woe to the priesthood! woe To those whose hire is with the price of blood,— Perverting, darkening, changing as they go, Their glory and their might Shall perish; and their very names shall be Oh! speed the moment on When Wrong shall cease,-and Liberty and Love, ICHABOD !! So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn The glory from his gray hairs gone Revile him not,-the Tempter hath And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath, Oh! dumb be passion's stormy rage, Have lighted up and led his age Scorn! would the angels laugh to mark Let not the land, once proud of him, Nor brand with deeper shame his dim But let its humbled sons, instead, A long lament, as for the dead, Of all we loved and honor'd, nought A fallen angel's pride of thought All else is gone; from those great eyes When faith is lost, when honor dies, These lines, so full of tender regret, deep grief, and touching pathos, were written when the news came of the sad course of Daniel Webster in supporting the "Compromise Measures," including the "Fugitive Slave Law," in his speech delivered in the United States Senate, on the 7th of March, 1850. Then pay the reverence of old days Walk backward with averted gaze, MAUD MULLER. Maud Muller, on a summer's day, Beneath her torn hat glow'd the wealth But, when she glanced to the far-off town, The sweet song died, and a vague unrest Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid; And ask'd a draught from the spring that flow'd She stoop'd where the cool spring bubbled up, And blush'd as she gave it, looking down He spoke of the grass and flowers and trees Then talk'd of the haying, and wonder'd whether And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown, And listen'd, while a pleased surprise At last, like one who for delay "My father should wear a broadcloth coat; My brother should sail a painted boat. "I'd dress my mother so grand and gay, And the baby should have a new toy each day. "And I'd feed the hungry, and clothe the poor, And all should bless me who left our door." The Judge look'd back as he climb'd the hill, And saw Maud Muller standing still. "A form more fair, a face more sweet, Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet. "And her modest answer and graceful air Show her wise and good as she is fair. "Would she were mine, and I to-day, Like her, a harvester of hay: "No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs, "But low of cattle and song of birds, But he thought of his sisters proud and cold, But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, He wedded a wife of richest dower, Oft, when the wine in his glass was red, And closed his eyes on his garnish'd rooms, And the proud man sigh'd, with a secret pain: |