Still dwelled the people in their tents, The son of Beor took up his song, "How goodly thy tents are, O Jacob! How fair Thy dwellings, O Israel! thy blessings, how rare! As rivers in valleys, as trees on the plain, As aloes, God-planted, your strength shall remain. "As gardens by waters, as cedars on hills, Your glory shall grow till earth's kingdom it fills; The unicorn's sinew shall strengthen his limb, Till all that oppose shall pay tribute to him! "He couched like a lion, that king of the wild; And who shall arouse him? Great good, undefiled, Distils in the accents of blessing o'er him, And accursed be their lot who his brightness would dim!" Then Balak's anger rose again, His hands together pressing. "Three times I bade thee curse those men, Three times 'tis turned to blessing. "Now get thee to thine Eastern home, Nor deem me graceless donor; Small gift of mine, with thee may roam, Nor wealth, nor place, nor honor." But farther ran the parable From Mesopotamia's mountains, Through Beor's son, against his will, Like pure, rock-guarded fountains; "I shall see him from afar, I shall see it, but not now; There shall come a shining star, And a sceptre, too, shall mar Moab, from yon lofty brow. "Out of Jacob there shall rise One of valiant might and power; Who of us may bide that hour?" "He hath said, which heard the words of God, and knew the knowledge of the most High, which saw the vision of the Almighty, falling into a trance, but having his eyes open: I shall see him, but not now: I shall behold Him, but not nigh: there shall come a Star out of Jacob, and a Sceptre shall rise out of Israel, and shall smite the corners of Moab, and destroy all the children of Sheth."-Numbers xxiv: 16, 17. O FOR a sculptor's hand, That thou might'st take thy stand, Thy wild hair floating on the eastern breeze, Thy tranced yet open gaze Fixed on the desert haze, As one who deep in heaven some airy pageant sees. In outline dim and vast Their fearful shadows cast The giant forms of empires on their way To ruin one by one They tower and they are gone, Yet in the Prophet's soul the dreams of avarice stay. No sun or star so bright That they should draw to Heaven his downward eye: He hears th' Almighty's word, Yet low upon the earth his heart and treasure lie. Lo! from yon argent field, To him and us revealed, One gentle Star glides down, on earth to dwell. Chained as they are below Our eyes may see it glow, And as it mounts again, may track its brightness well. |