Heedless of the noontide glare, Blooming bride and blushing maid,— War-chief with his lifted lance, Beauty with her jewelled brow, Hoary eld with locks of snow, Prince and peer, and statesman grave, White-stoled priest and dark-browed slave; Plumed helm, and crowned head, By one mighty impulse led, Mingle in the living mass, That onward to the desert pass! With song and shout and impious glee, What rush earth's myriads forth to see? With their boisterous merriment! Are they to the vineyards rushing, Where the grape's rich blood is gushing? Of warrior brave and beauty bright? All recklessly they rush to hear Favour found and saving grace; Rescued from the doom that hurled To chaos back a sinful world.— Every noble trait effaced, To rapine, lust, and murder given, The heart of erring man is closed Tremble, Earth! the awful doom Or the rich and ripened corn Waving in the breath of morn, What arrests their frantic course? Lips are quivering-cheeks are pale- Clouds in quick succession rise; Darkness spreads o'er all the skies; And a lurid twilight gloom Closes o'er earth's living tomb! Nature's pulse has ceased to play The awful tempest bursts at last! With a deluge flood the plain; The rocks are rent, the mountains reel, Hark! that loud, tremendous roar! Pouring all his giant waves Hollow murmurs fill the air, Shrieks of woe and fearful cries, Like a tempest heaves the crowd, While in accents fierce and loud, With pallid lips and curdled blood, Each trembling cries, "THE FLOOD! THE FLOOD!" STANZAS. BY THE REV. HENRY THOMPSON, M. A. I. BENEATH thy lorn palm by the thunderbolt riven, II. Weep, desolate Queen! if that tear may remove The bloodstain that darkens thy stormwithered brow; Pale symbol of hearts that in bitterness rove, As darkling, as cold, as deserted as thou. III. Hope's fabrics are bright as thine innermost shrine : The tempest hath swept-the Shechinah hath past; And Love, from a region resplendent as thine, Is driven to the stranger, the wild, and the blast. |