Where is the Man who with ennobling pride

Regards not his own nature? where is he 200
Who without awe can see

The mysteries of the human mind,

The miniature of Deity?

205

For Man the vernal clouds descending
Shower down their fertilizing rain;
For Man the ripen'd harvest bending
Waves with soft murmur o'er the plenteous plain.
He spreads the sail to catch the favouring gale,
Or sweeps with oars the main;

For him the winds of heaven subservient blow, 210
Earth teems for him, for him the waters flow,
He thinks, and wills, and acts, a Deity below!

Where is the King who with elating pride Sees not this Man, this godlike Man his slave? Mean are the mighty by the Monarch's side; 215 Alike the wise, alike the brave

With timid step and pale, advance, And tremble at the royal glance; Suspended millions watch his breath,

Whose smile is happiness, whose frown is death.

Why goes the Peasant from that little cot, 221 Where Peace and Love have blest his humble life? In vain his wretched wife

With tears bedews her husband's face,

And clasps him in a long and last embrace; 225
In vain his children round his bosom creep,
And weep to see their mother weep,
Fettering their father with their little arms!
What are to him the war's alarms?

What are to him the distant foes?
He at the earliest dawn of day
To daily labour went his way,
And when he saw the sun decline,
He sate in peace beneath his vine.
The King commands, the peasant goes,

From all he loved on earth he flies,

230

235

[dies.

And for his monarch toils, and fights, and bleeds, and

241

What though yon city's castled wall Cast o'er the darken'd plain its crested shade ? What though her Priests in earnest terror call On all their host of Gods to aid? Vain is the bulwark, vain the tower! In vain her gallant youth expose Their breasts, a bulwark, to the foes!

In vain at that tremendous hour,

245

Clasp'd in the savage soldier's reeking arms, Shrieks to deaf Heaven the violated Maid! By the rude hand of Ruin scatter'd round, Their moss-grown towers shall spread the desert Low shall the mouldering palace lie, [ground. Amid the princely halls the grass wave high, And through the shatter'd roof descend the inclement sky.

Gay o'er the embattled plain

Moves yonder warrior train,

252

Their banners wanton on the morning gale; 255
Full on their bucklers beams the rising ray,
Their glittering helms give glory to the day;
The shout of war rings echoing o'er the vale.

260

Far reaches as the aching eye can strain The splendid horror of their wide array. Ah! not in vain expectant, o'er Their glorious pomp the vultures soar! Amid the Conqueror's palace high Shall sound the song of victory; Long after journeying o'er the plain The traveller shall with startled eye See their white bones then blanched by many a winter sky.

265

Lord of the earth! we will not raise

The temple to thy bounded praise ;

For thee no victim need expire,

270

For thee no altar blaze with hallow'd fire;

The burning City flames for thee, Thine Altar is the field of victory! Thy sacred Majesty to bless Man a self-offer'd victim freely flies;

To thee he sacrifices happiness

And peace, and Love's endearing ties ;

275

To thee a Slave he lives, for thee a Slave he dies.

Hush'd was the lute, the Hebrew ceased to sing; The shout burst forth, " For ever live the King!" Loud was the uproar, as when Rome's decree Pronounced Achaia once again was free;

281

Assembled Greece enrapt with fond belief

Heard the false boon, and bless'd the treacherous

Chief.

Each breast with freedom's holy ardour glows, 285 From every voice the cry of rapture rose;

Their thundering clamours rend the astonished sky,
And birds o'erpassing hear, and drop, and die.
Thus o'er the Persian dome their plaudits ring, 289
And the high hall re-echoed.." Live the King!"
The mutes bow'd reverent down before their Lord,
The assembled Satraps envied and adored,
Joy sparkled in the Monarch's conscious eyes,
And his pleased pride already doom'd the prize.

Silent they saw Zorobabel advance :
He to Apame turn'd his timid glance;
With downward eye he paused, a moment mute,
Then with light finger touch'd the softer lute.
Apame knew the Hebrew's grateful cause,
And bent her head, and sweetly smiled applause.

295

Why is the warrior's cheek so red?

301

Why downward droops his musing head?

Why that slow step, that faint advance,

That keen yet quick retreating glance ?
That crested head in war tower'd high,
No backward glance disgraced that eye,
No flushing fear that cheek o'erspread,
When stern he strode o'er heaps of dead :
Strange tumult now his bosom moves, ..
The Warrior fears because he loves.

Why does the Youth delight to rove Amid the dark and lonely grove?' Why in the throng where all are gay, With absent eyes from gaiety distraught,

Sits he alone in silent thought?

305

310

315

Silent he sits, for far away

His passion'd soul delights to stray; Recluse he roves as if he fain would shun All human-kind, because he loves but One!

320

Yes, King of Persia, thou art blest!
But not because the sparkling bowl
To rapture elevates thy waken'd soul;
But not because of power possest;
Nor that the Nations dread thy nod,
And Princes reverence thee their earthly God! 325
Even on a monarch's solitude

Will Care, dark visitant, intrude;
The bowl brief pleasure can bestow;
The purple cannot shield from woe;

But, King of Persia, thou art blest,

330

For Heaven who raised thee thus the world above, Hath made thee happy in Apame's love!

Oh! I have seen him fondly trace
The heavenly features of her face,
Rove o'er her form with eager eye,
And sigh and gaze, and gaze and sigh.

335

See! from his brow with mimic frown

Apame takes the sacred crown;

Those sparkling eyes, that radiant face,
Give to the diadem new grace:

And subject to a Woman's laws,
Darius sees, and smiles applause!

340

He ceased, and silent still remain'd the throng, While rapt attention own'd the power of song.