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And I listen until I hear

From fathomless depths of the sky
The voice of his prophecy
Sounding louder and more near!

Malediction! malediction !

May the lightnings of heaven fall
On palace and prison wall,
And their desolation be

As the day of fear and affliction,

As the day of anguish and ire,

With the burning and fuel of fire,

In the Valley of the Sea!

From the "DIVINE TRAGEDY," by H. W. Longfellow.

332

:

THE DAUGHTER OF HERODIAS.

OTHER! I bring thy gift;

Take from my hand the dreaded boon, I pray!
Take it; the still, pale sorrow of the face

Hath left upon my soul its living trace,

Never to pass away,

Since from these lips one word of idle breath

Blanched that calm face; O mother, this is death!

:

What is it that I see

From all the pure and settled features gleaming? Reproach! reproach! My dreams are strange and wild; Mother! hadst thou no pity on thy child?

Lo! a celestial smile seems softly beaming

On the hushed lips, my mother, canst thou brook
Longer upon thy victim's face to look?

Alas! at yestermorn

My heart was light, and to the viol's sound

I gayly danced, while crowned with summer flowers,

And swiftly by me sped the flying hours,

And all was joy around:

Not death! O mother, could I say thee nay?
Take from thy daughter's hand thy boon away!

Take it my heart is sad,

And the pure forehead hath an icy chill; I dare not touch it, for avenging Heaven Hath shuddering visions to my fancy given,

And the pale face appalls me, cold and still, With the closed lips. O, tell me, could I know That the pale features of the dead were so ?

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I may not turn away

From the charmed face; and I have heard his name Even as a prophet by his people spoken.

And that high brow, in death, bears seal and token

Of one whose words were flame:

O holy teacher! couldst thou rise and live,
Would not these hushed lips whisper, "I forgive"?

Away with lute and harp,

With the glad heart forever, and the dance!

Never again shall tabret sound for me!

O fearful mother! I have brought to thee

The silent dead, with his rebuking glance,

And the crushed heart of one to whom are given
Wild dreams of judgment and offended Heaven.

Lucy Hooper.

334

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