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النشر الإلكتروني

Hear you the mountain heights along

The thundering sound of nations spread, Embattled nations great and strong,

And monarchs shouting at their head! 'Midst them the God of Armies stands,

To battle marshaling their bands.
They come, the weapons of his wrath, from far,
From heaven's remotest ends, to waste the land

with war.
It comes--the air with howlings rend-

The day of God's terrific power:
Vengeance comes with it, prompt to' attend

The' Almighty's desolating hour. Nerveless each hand shall drop the spear,

Each heart of man shall melt with fear; Each look on each aghast, whilst wild dismay Their faces, pale as flames of livid fire, betray.

It comes, relentless in its course,

Wrath arms the’ Almighty's vengeful hand; Fury rolls on with fiery force,

And sweeps the impious from the land. No stars shall glitter o'er the sky,

No constellations flame on high;
The sickening sun shall veil his orient beams,
Nor the moon cause her light to pour its silver

streams.
My wrath the world, the impious world

Shall feel; my terrors the unjust:
From her high seat shall Pride be hurid,

And fierce Oppression sink in dust.
The ruthless sword through all the land
Shall execute my dread command;

A Man more precious will I make than gold, Than all the flaming ore the veins of Ophir hold.

The heavens shall tremble at my frown,

When all its fires my wrath awakes;
From its firm base the earth be thrown,

Its pillars as the Almighty shakes.
As a chafed roe by hounds emboss'd,

As wandering flocks, their shepherd lost, The relics of the sword in wild despair (there. Fly towards their native lands, to gain a shelter

In vain: the spear arrests their flight:

Dispersed, an easy prey they fall:
Dare they the phalanx form for fight?

The greedy sword devours them all.
Their bleeding infants' helpless age

Shall feel the unsparing victor's rage;
Their houses to the spoiler yield the prey,
And ruffian force shall drag their shrieking wives

away.
Against them, lo! the Medes I train;

Hosts, for whom silver has no charms;
Who look on gold with stern disdain ;

Warriors, that joy in glittering arms.
Dreadful their bows of steel from far

Shall pierce the bleeding front of war;
And, ʼmidst the carnage of the captured town,
Unpitying shall they dash youth's opening beauty

down.
And Babylon, the’ Assyrian's pride,

That rears sublime her gorgeous brow,
Imperial Queen of nations wide,

In dust her rampired height shall bow;

Shall like the towns of Siddim lie

Waste with sulphureous flames from high; And o'er her silent streets and desert plain Shall Desolation hold her sad and dreary reign.

No more the’ Arabian, as of old,

Shall stretch his white tents o'er the mead;
Shepherd no more his flocks unfold,

And down the verdant pasture lead :
The savage of the desert there

Conceal'd shall make his dreadful lair;
In ruin'd walls shall lodge the birds of night,
And monsters howling wild the wasted streets

affright;
Beneath rich roofs emboss'd with gold

The daughters of the ostrich dwell;
Satyrs their bestial revels hold;

Wolf howl to wolf with hideous yell;
And dragons hiss those bowers among

That echoed once with festive song.-
It comes, to vengeance doom’d, her fatal day;
The destined hours advance, nor will their march
delay.

REV. R. POTTER.

THE SONG OF EXULTATION.
The spoil-gorged city is no more;
The proud oppressor of the nations falls,

Sunk in the dust her towered walls:
Her vanquish'd monarch welters in his gore;

Jehovah from his impious hand
Hath rent the ensign of command,

That iron sceptre, whose impetuous force

Smote empires trembling at his rage.
The earth exulting views his breathless corse,

And Peace recalls her golden age;
Cheerful burst forth their shouts of joy,
Thy furious hand no more shall bleeding realms

destroy.'

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The lordly Lebanon waves high
The ancient honours of his sacred head;

Their branching arms his cedars spread,
His pines triumphant shoot into the sky:

• Tyrant, no barbarous axe invades,

Since thou art fallen, our unpierced shades.'
To meet thee, Hades rouses from beneath,

An iron smile his visage wears;
He calls through all the drear abodes of Death;

His call each mighty chieftain hears;

And sceptred kings of empires wide [pride. Rise from their lofty thrones, and thus accost thy

Is this weak form of flitting air The potent Lord that fill’d the’ Assyrian throne ?

Thus are thy vaunted glories gone? Where thy rich feasts, thy sprightly viols where?

Beneath thee is corruption spread,

And worms the covering of thy bed ! How art thou fallen, bright star of orient day,

How fallen from thy etherial height, Son of the Morning! Thou, whose sanguine ray

Glared terribly a baleful light;

War kindled at the blaze, and wild Rush'd Slaughter, Havoc rush’d, their robes with

blood defiled.

" I in high heaven will be adored, Above the stars of God exalt my throne;

My power shall sacred Sion own,
The mount of God's dread presence hail me

Lord.'
Such thy vain threats! Death's dark abode

Yawns to receive the vaunting God.
Those who thy corse shall midst the slain behold,

Shall view thee with attentive look: Is this the man, his thundering car who roll’d,

That with pale terror kingdoms shook ?

Who waved o'er wasted towns his spear, Terror and Flight his van, Destruction in his rear?

.

Is this the man whose barbarous hate Bound captive monarchs in his galling chain;

While Outrage call’d his torturing train, And Rigour closed the dungeon's ruthless gate?

How from his high dominion hurld

The spoiler of the ravaged world! Kings, monarchs, heroes, warriors of renown,

Who greatly fought their realms to save, Each in his house of death in peace lies down,

With glory in his rock-hewn grave,

Amidst his chiefs, with honours graced, His sword beneath his head, his arms beside him

placed ;

But thou shalt lie a thing abhorr’d,
A sordid corse among the vulgar slain,

Clothed with the carnage of the plain,
A loathsome texture by the falchion gored.

Shalt thou with honour'd chiefs repose ?
Her jaws 'gainst thee the grave shall close;

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