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, The regal splendor of their fair array; may; While knelt the priests before His awful shrine The bright, the beautiful, his guards unfold; 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 HELIODORUS IN THE TEMPLE 187 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. HELIODORUS IN THE TEMPLE The light returns-the warriors of the sky 189 Have passed, with all their dreadful pomp, away; Then wakes the timbrel, swells the song on high, Triumphant as in Judah's elder day. Rejoice, O city of the sacred hill! Salem, exult! thy God is with thee still! FELICIA D. HEMANS |