The morning past, and Asia's sun rode up And the bright plumage of the Orient lay It was an hour of rest; but Hagar found She kept her weary way, until the boy She laid him down beneath the sultry sky,— Ghastly and faint, as if he would have died. Till he should die; and, watching him, she mourned:- "God stay thee in thine agony, my boy! And see death settle on my cradle joy. "I did not dream of this when thou wast straying, By the rich gush of water-sources playing, "Oh no! and when I watched by thee the while, And saw thy bright lip curling in thy dream, And thought of the dark stream In my own land of Egypt, the far Nile, How prayed I that my father's land might be "And now the grave for its cold breast hath won thee, And thy white, delicate limbs the earth will press; And oh my last caress Must feel thee cold, for a chill hand is on thee. She stood beside the well her God had given THE WIDOW OF NAIN.* THE Roman sentinel stood helmed and tall Upon his spear the soldier lean'd, and kept Of some poor mendicant, he rais'd his head To curse him for a tributary Jew, And slumberously dozed on. * Luke, chap. vii. 'Twas now high noon. The dull, low murmur of a funeral Went through the city-the sad sound of feet Shook off his slumber, and gazed earnestly Up the wide street along whose pavéd way And by the crowd that in the burning sun His spear-point downwards as the bearers past Falter'd with weakness, and a broken moan As her heart bled afresh. The pitying crowd |