Charged with Abercrombie's doom,
Lightning winged a cruel ball:
'Twas the herald of the tomb,
And the hero felt the call.
Felt-and raised his arm on high;
Victory well the signal knew,
Darted from his awful eye,
And the force of France o'erthrew.
But the horrors of that fight,
Were the weeping Muse to tell, Oh, 't would cleave the womb of night, And awake the dead that fell!
Gashed with honourable scars,
Low in Glory's lap they lie;
Though they fell, they fell like stars,
Streaming splendour through the sky.
Yet shall Memory mourn that day,
When with expectation pale
Of her soldier far away,
The poor widow hears the tale.
In imagination wild,
She shall wander o'er this plain; Rave,--and bid her orphan child Seek his sire among the slain.
Gently, from the western deep,
O ye evening breezes, rise!
O'er the Lyre of Memnon sweep,
Wake its spirit with your sighs.
Harp of Memnon! sweetly strung
To the music of the spheres ;
While the hero's dirge is sung,
Breathe enchantment to our ears.
Let thy numbers soft and slow
O'er the plain with carnage spread,
Soothe the dying, while they flow
To the memory of the dead.
None but solemn, tender tones,
Tremble from thy plaintive wires;
Hark! the wounded warrior groans!
Hush thy warbling!-he expires.
Hush!-while Sorrow wakes and weeps
O'er his relics cold and pale,
Night her silent vigil keeps,
In a mournful moonlight veil.
Harp of Memnon! from afar
Ere the lark salute the sky,
Watch the rising of the star
That proclaims the morning nigh.
Soon the sun's ascending rays,
In a flood of hallowed fire,
O'er thy kindling chords shall blaze,
And thy magic soul inspire.
Then thy tones triumphant pour,
Let them pierce the hero's grave:
Life's tumultuous battle o'er,
Oh, how sweetly sleep the brave!
From the dust their laurels bloom,
High they shoot and flourish free;
Glory's temple is the tomb!
Death is immortality!
Suggested by the perusal of a manuscript treatise, "Concerning the Holy Angels and their Ministry," by a deceased friend, which was afterwards printed for private distribution only, in 1826, having the first clause of the following lines for a motto.
ALL that of angels GOD to man makes known,
Here by the light of His clear Word is shown:
'Tis Jacob's dream;-behold the ladder rise,-
Resting on earth, but reaching to the skies;
Where faith the radiant hierarchies may trace
Abroad in Nature, Providence, and grace,
Descending and returning by that path
On embassies of mercy or of wrath;
Here the stone pillow and the desert sod
Become the gate of heaven-the house of GOD:
Put off thy shoes; approach with awe profound;
The spot on which thou stand'st is holy ground!
Spirit made perfect,-spirit of the just!
Thine hand, which traced these lines, hath fallen to dust;
Yet in the visions of eternity,
Things unconceived by mortals thou canst see;
Angels, as angels stand before the throne,
By thee are without veil or symbol known:
Oh! couldst thou add one brilliant page, and tell
What those pure beings are that never fell,-
Those first-born sons of GOD, ere time began,
Elder and greater, not more loved than man;
Thrones, principalities, dominions, powers,
Cherub and Seraph, 'midst empyreal bowers,
Who in themselves their Maker only see,
And dwell in the abyss of Deity.
But 'tis forbidden; earthly eye nor ear
Heaven's splendours could behold, heaven's secrets hear; To flesh and blood that world to come is sealed,
Or but in hieroglyphic shades revealed.
We follow thee, blest saint! our tongues ere long
May learn from thine the Church triumphant's song;
For well I ween, thy minstrel soul of fire
Can compass all the notes of Raphael's lyre;--
That soul which once, beneath the body's cloud,
Sang, like an unseen sky-lark, sweet and loud;-
Sweeter and louder now thy raptures rise,
Where cloud nor sun are seen,-in purer skies!
But what of angels know we?-Ask that Book
In which the eyes of angels love to look,
Desiring, through its opening seals, to trace
The heights and depths of that transcendent grace,
Which from the Father's bosom sent the Son,
Himself the ransom for a world undone !
Here, with the morning stars, when Nature sprang,
Those sons of GOD for joy together sang;
Diviner wonders day by day explored,
Night after night with deeper awe adored;
Till o'er His finished works JEHOVAH placed
Man,—with the stamp of His own image graced:
Even angels paused a moment then to gaze,
Ere burst from all their choirs such shouts of praise As not in heaven, at their own birth, were known, Nor heard when Satan's host was overthrown.
When man lost Eden by his first offence,
The swords of Cherubim expelled him thence;
Those flaming signs of heaven and earth at strife,
Turned every way to guard the Tree of Life!
Angels thenceforth, who in GOD'S presence stand,
As ministering spirits traverse sea and land;
Onward or upward, rapt through air and sky,
From heaven to earth, from earth to heaven, they fly;
Like rays diverging from the central sun,
That through the darkness of creation run,
Enlighten moons and planets in their course,
And thence reflected, seek their glorious Source.
When Abraham dwelt in Mamre, angels spoke
As friend to friend with him, beneath the oak:
With flocks and herds, with wealth and servants blest,
Of almost more than heart could wish possest;
One want the old man felt,-a hopeless one;
Oh! what was all he had without a son?
The messengers brought tidings to his ear,
Which Nature, dead in him, found hard to hear;
Which faith itself could scarce receive for joy;
But he believed, and soon embraced a boy;
Nor, while the line of Adam shall extend,
Will faithful Abraham's promised issue end.
Hence, when his lifted arm the death-stroke aimed
At him whom GOD in sacrifice reclaimed,
At him whom GOD miraculously gave,
An angel cried from heaven the youth to save.
When Hagar fainted in the wilderness,
An angel watcher pitied her distress,-
To Ishmael's lips a hidden fount unsealed,
And the long wanderings of his race revealed,
Who still as hunters, warriors, spoilers roam,
Their steeds their riches,-sands and sky their home.
Angels o'erthrew the cities of the plain,
With fire and brimstone, in tempestuous rain;
And from the wrath, which impious sinners braved,
By holy violence the righteous saved;
Now, where with life the region breathed of yore,
Stands a dead sea, where life can breathe no more.
When Jacob, journeying with his feeble bands,
Trembled to fall into a brother's hands,
At twilight, lingering in the rear, he saw
GOD'S host around his tents their legions draw;
He with a stranger, in mysterious strife,
Wrestled till break of day, for more than life;
He prayed, he wept, he cried in his distress,
"I will not let thee go, except thou bless."
Lame with a touch, he halted on his thigh,
Yet like a prince had power with GOD Most High.
Nine plagues in vain had smitten Pharaoh's land,
Ere the destroying angel stretched his hand,
Whose sword of vengeance, flashing through the gloom,
Lit while it struck the first-born to the tomb;
Through all the realm a cry at midnight spread,
For not a dwelling stood without one dead.
When Balaam, blinded with the lure of gold,
To curse whom GOD would bless, his heart had sold,
A wrathful angel, with high-brandished blade,
Invisible to him, his progress stayed;
Nor till, with human voice, his own dumb ass
Rebuked the prophet's madness, let him pass.
When Joshua led the tribes o'er Jordan's flood,
The Captain of GOD'S host before him stood;
He fell, and owned, adoring on his face,
A Power whose presence sanctified the place.
When Deborah from beneath her palm-tree rose,
GOD into woman's hands sold Israel's foes;
They fought from heaven,―'t was Heaven deliverance wrought,
Stars in their courses against Sisera fought.
They sinned again, and groaned beneath the yoke ;
To Gideon then a guardian angel spoke;
Three hundred warriors, chosen at the brook,
For arms, their pitchers, lamps, and trumpets took;
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