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RESUME thy tone of wo, immortal harp!
song of mirth is past; the Jubilee

Is ended ; and the sun begins to fade.
Soon past : for happiness counts not the hours ;
To her a thousand years seem as a day ;
A day a thousand years to misery..
Satan is loose, and Violence is heard,
And Riot in the street, and Revelry
Intoxicate, and Murder, and Revenge.

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Put on your armour now, ye righteous ! put



The helmet of salvation on, and gird
Your loins about with truth; add righteousness,
And add the shield of faith; and take the sword
Of God: awake! and watch : the day is near ;
Great day of God Almighty, and the Lamb.
The harvest of the earth is fully ripe:
Vengeance begins to tread the great wine-press
Of fierceness and of wrath ; and Merey pleads,

Mercy that pleaded long, she pleads no more.

Whence comes that darkness ? whence those

yells of wo? What thunderings are these, that shake the


Why fall the lamps from heaven as blasted figs? Why tremble righteous men ? why angels pale? Why is all fear? what has become of hope ? God comes! God in his car of vengeance comes ! Hark! louder on the blast, come hollow shrieks

Of dissolution ; in the fitful scowl

Of night, near and more near, angels of death

Incessant flap their deadly wings, and roar Thro' all the fevered air: the mountains rock;

The moon is sick; and all the stars of heaven

Burn feebly; oft and sudden gleams the fire,
Revealing awfully the brow of wrath.
The thunder, long and loud, utters his voice,
Responsive to the ocean's troubled growl.
Night comes, last night ; the long dark, dark,

dark night,
That has no morn beyond it, and no star.

man hath seen a night like this ! Heaven's trampled justice girds itself for fight; Earth to thy knees, and cry for mercy! cry

! With earnest heart; for thou art growing old And hoary, unrepented, unforgiven: And all thy glory mourns: the vintage mourns; Bashan and Carmel mourn and

and mourn Thou Lebanon ! with all thy cedars mourn. Sun! glorying in thy strength from age to age, So long observant of thy hour, put on


Thy weeds of wo, and tell the moon to weep; Utter thy grief at mid-day, morn, and even ;

Tell all the nations, tell the clouds that sit

About the portals of the east and west,
And wanton with thy golden locks, to wait

Thee not to-morrow; for no morrow comes ;

Tell men and women, tell the new-born child,

And every eye


sees, to come, and see

Thee set behind Eternity ; for thou
Shalt go to bed to-night, and ne'er awake.
Stars ! walking on the pavement of the sky;
Out-sentinels of heaven! watching the earth,
Cease dancing now: your lamps are growing


Your graves are dug among the dismal clouds ; And angels are assembling round your bier. Orion, mourn I and Mazzaroth, and thou, Arcturus, mourn, with all thy northern sons. Daughters of Pleiades ! that nightly shed Sweet influence: and thou, fairest of stars !

Eye of the morning, weep—and weep at eve;

Weep setting, now to rise no more, 6 and flame
On forehead of the dawn"- '-as sung the bard,
Great bard! who used on Earth a seraph's lyre,
Whose numbers wandered thro' eternity,
And gave sweet foretaste of the heavenly harps.

Minstrel of sorrow! native of the dark !

Shrub-loving Philomel ! that wooed the Dews
At midnight from their starry beds, and charmed,
Held them around thy song till dawn awoke-
Sad bird! pour thro’ the gloom thy weeping song,
Pour all thy dying melody of grief ;
And with the turtle spread the wave of wo-
Spare not thy reed, for thou shalt sing no more.

Ye holy bards ! if yet a holy bard Remain, what chord' shall serve you now? what


What harp shall sing the dying sun asleep,

And mourn behind the funeral of the moon !

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