These thoughts will be as covered and | My Lysias, Gorgias, Seron, and Nica My elephants shall trample him to dust; I will wipe out his nation, and will make Jerusalem a common burying-place, SCENE II. ANTIOCHUS; PHILIP; A MES- And every home within its walls a tomb! "HE is gone to the desert land! "Come back, rebellious one! "Thy hand in freedom shall "I will give thee leave to stray "I will give thee my coat of mail, II. "This hand no longer shall On the swans of the Seven Lakes, "I will no longer stray [Dies. "Though thou give me thy coat of mail, "What right hast thou, O Khan, "God will appoint the day "God, who doth care for me, "When I wander lonely and lost "Yea, wheresoever I be, Cast my hawks, when morning breaks, In the yellow desert sands, In mountains or unknown lands, Allah will care for me!" III. Then Sobra, the old, old man, "If you bid me, I will speak. "I am old, I am very old : "What I say to you is the truth; "Him the Almighty made, "He was born at the break of day, "Gifted with Allah's grace, "When first on earth he trod, "And he shall be king of men, For Allah hath heard his prayer, And the Archangel in the air, Gabriel, hath said, Amen! THE SIEGE OF KAZAN. Tartar Song, from the Prose Version of I go to the river there below Chodzko. BLACK are the moors before Kazan, Where in bunches the violets grow, And sun and shadow meet. And their stagnant waters smell of Brook, to what garden dost thou go? blood : O my brooklet cool and sweet! I go to the garden in the vale Brook, to what fountain dost thou go? CONSOLATION. To M. Duperrier, Gentleman of Aix in Provence, on the Death of his Daughter. FROM MALHERBE. The maid that loves thee comes to WILL then, Duperrier, thy sorrow be drink, And whenever she looks therein, I rise to meet her, and kiss her chin, TO THE STORK. Armenian Popular Song, from the Prose WELCOME, O Stork! that dost wing eternal? And shall the sad discourse Whispered within thy heart, by tenderness paternal, Only augment its force? Thy daughter's mournful fate, into the tomb descending By death's frequented ways, Has it become to thee a labyrinth never ending, Where thy lost reason strays? Thou hast brought us the signs of I know the crarms that made her youth Spring, Thou hast made our sad hearts gay. Descend, O Stork! descend Upon our roof to rest; To thee, O Stork, I complain, O Stork, to thee I impart When thou away didst go, Away from this tree of ours, The withering winds did blow, And dried up all the flowers. Dark grew the brilliant sky, Cloudy and dark and drear; From Varaca's rocky wall, From the rock of Varaca unrolled, The snow came and covered all, And the green meadow was cold. O Stork, our garden with snow a benediction : Nor should I be content, As a censorious friend, to solace thine affliction By her disparagement. But she was of the world, which fairest things exposes To fates the most forlorn; A rose, she too hath lived as long as live the roses, The space of one brief morn. * Death has his rigorous laws, unparal leled, unfeeling; All prayers to him are vain ; Cruel, he stops his ears, and, deaf to our appealing; He leaves us to complain. The poor man in his hut, with only thatch for cover, Unto these laws must bend; The sentinel that guards the barriers of the Louvre Cannot our kings defend. To murmur against death, in petulant defiance, Is never for the best; To will what God doth will, that is the only science That gives us any rest. And with the bitterness of tears These eyes of azure troubled grow? "Ah no! into the fields of space, Away shalt thou escape with me; And Providence will grant thee grace Of all the days that were to be. "Let no one in thy dwelling cower, In sombre vestments draped and veiled; But let them welcome thy last hour, "Without a cloud be there each brow; There let the grave no shadow cast; When one is pure as thou art now, The fairest day is still the last. And waving wide his wings of white, The angel, at these words, had sped Towards the eternal realms of light! Poor mother! see, thy son is dead! |