the nuptial ceremonies have begun. Songs are sung ilustrative of the forms of a Jewish bridal; and their rich and luxurious harmony forms a terrible contrast with the surrounding desolation and danger. What follows, it is impossible to abridge, and, long as the extract is, our readers, we are convinced, will thank us for it :
(At a distance.) 'To the sound of timbrels sweet,
Moving slow our solemn feet, We have borne thee on the road, To the virgin's blest abode ; With thy yellow torches gleaming, And thy scarlet mantle streaming, And the canopy above Swaying as we slowly move.
Thou hast left the joyous feast, And the mirth and wine have ceast; And now we set thee down before The jealously-unclosing door, That the favour'd youth admits Where the veiled virgin sits In the bliss of maiden fear, Waiting our soft tread to hear; And the music's brisker din, As the bridegroom's entering in, Entering in a welcome guest To the chamber of his rest.
Second Jew. It is the bridal song of Amariah
And fair Salone. In the house of Simon
The rites are held; nor bears the bridegroom home His plighted spouse, but there doth deck his chamber; These perilous times dispensing with the rigour
The son of Hananiah! is't not he? Third Jew. Whom said'st?
Art thou a stranger in Jerusalem, That thou rememberest not that fearful man?*
* That fearful man!' as he is here admirably described from the historian of the Jews, is thus introduced by Crowne:
We in Jerusalem did daily see
A greater and a living prodigy;
A man like Echo pined into a sound,
A walking vault that does one tone rebound; And night and day does in our streets proclaim With restless soul, Woe to Jerusalem!
Fourth Jew. Speak! speak! we know not all. Second Jew.
Why thus it was: A rude and homely dresser of the vine, He had come up to the Feast of Tabernacles, When suddenly a spirit fell upon him, Evil or good we know not. Ever since, (And now seven years are past since it befell, Our city then being prosperous and at peace,) He hath gone wandering through the darkling streets At midnight under the cold quiet stars;
He hath gone wandering through the crowded market At noonday under the bright blazing sun,
With that one ominous cry of " Woe, woe, woe!"
Some scoff'd and mock'd him, some would give him food; He neither curs'd the one, nor thank'd the other. The Sanhedrim bade scourge him, and myself Beheld him lash'd, till the bare bones stood out Through the maim'd flesh: still, still he only cried, Woe to the City! till his patience wearied The angry persecutors. When they freed him, 'Twas still the same, the incessant Woe, woe, woe! But when our siege began, awhile he ceased, As though his prophecy were fulfill'd; till now We had not heard his dire and boding voice. Woe! woe! woe!
A voice from the east! a voice from the west! From the four winds a voice against Jerusalem ! A voice against the Temple of the Lord!
A voice against the bridegrooms and the brides! A voice against all people of the land!
Second Jew. They are the very words, the very voice
Which we have heard so long. And yet, methinks, There is a mournful triumph in the tone Ne'er heard before. His eyes, that were of old Fix'd on the earth, now wander all abroad, As though the tardy consummation Afflicted him with wonder-Hark! again.
(The prophet enters.) Joshua.
CHORUS OF MAIDENS.
Now the jocund song is thine, Bride of David's kingly line!
From the four winds, and the earth's hollow womb, A voice, a voice-a dreadful voice is come!
A voice against our elders, priests and scribes,
Our city, temple, and our holiest tribes; Against the bridegroom and the joyful bride, And all that in Jerusalem reside, Woe! woe! woe!-
How thy dove-like bosom trembleth, And thy shrouded eye resembleth Violets, when the dews of eve A moist and tremulous glitter leave On the bashful sealed lid!
Close within the bride-veil hid, Motionless thou sit'st and mute; Save that at the soft salute Of each entering maiden friend Thou dost rise and softly bend. Hark! a brisker, merrier glee! The door unfolds,—'tis he, 'tis he! Thus we lift our lamps to meet him, Thus we touch our lutes to greet him. Thou shalt give a fonder meeting, Thou shalt give a tenderer greeting.
A voice from the east! a voice from the west! From the four winds a voice against Jerusalem! A voice against the Temple of the Lord! A voice against the bridegrooms and the brides! A voice against all people of the land! Woe! woe
First Jew. Didst speak?
ThirdJew.No.
[Bursts away, followed by Second Jew.
Fourth Jew. Look'd he on us as he spake ?
First Jew (to the Second returning.) Thou followed'st him! what now? Second Jew. "Twas a true prophet!
The Jews. Wherefore? Where went he? Second Jew.
To the outer wall; And there he suddenly cried out and sternly, "A voice against the son of Hananiah ! Woe, woe!" and at the instant, whether struck By a chance stone from the enemy's engines, down He sank and died!
There's some one comes this way
"Tis the High-priest. The ephod gleams through the pale lowering night; The breast-plate gems, and the pure mitre-gold, Shine lamplike, and the bells that fringe his robe Chime faintly.
Israel, hear! I do beseech you,
Who's he that will not hear
The words of God's High-priest?
I sate within the Temple, in the court That's consecrate to mine office-Your eyes wander-
Why hearken, then-Upon a sudden The pavement seem'd to swell beneath my feet, And the Veil shiver'd, and the pillars rock'd. And there, within the very Holy of Holies,
There, from behind the winged Cherubim,
Where the Ark stood, noise, hurried and tumultuous,
Was heard, as when a king with all his host
Doth quit his palace.*
Or voices, half in grief, half anger, yet
Nor human grief nor anger, even it seem'd As though the hoarse and rolling thunder spake With the articulate voice of man-it said,
Most terrible! What follow'd?
I know not why, I felt As though an outcast from the abandon'd Temple, And fled.
Oh God! and Father of our Fathers, Dost thou desert us?
CHORUS OF YOUTHS AND MAIDENS.
Under a happy planet art thou led, Oh, chosen virgin! to thy bridal bed.
So put thou off thy soft and bashful sadness, And wipe away the timid maiden tear,—
Lo! redolent with the prophet's oil of gladness,
And mark'd by heaven, the bridegroom youth is here.
First Jew. Hark-hark! an armed tread !
Second Jew. Ben Cathla. Ay, ye are met, all met, as in a mart, Texchange against each other your dark tales Of this night's fearful prodigies. I know it, By the inquisitive and half-suspicious looks With which ye eye each other, ye do wish To disbelieve all ye have heard, and yet
Ye dare not. If ye have seen the moon unsphered, And the stars fall; if the pale sheeted ghosts
Have met you wandering, and have pointed at you
* This fearful incident is thus curiously dramatized by Crowne : Hark! a voice does from the vault rebound.
(A great voice is heard from under the stage, like a tube.) A voice! 'tis thunder, or some pagan god Groans here tormented, chaced from his abode. 'Let us depart,' the horrid voice does cry! What art that call'st? and whither shall we fly?
The Temple lives! it moved before and broke The bars that fettered it, and now it spoke.
It rather dies! and these affrightful groans Are its departing soul's contending moans.
The tender and the delicate of women,
That would not set her foot upon the ground
For delicacy and very tenderness.
Ben Cathla. The same !-We had gone forth in quest of food: And we had enter'd many a house, where men Were preying upon meagre herbs and skins; And some were sating, upon loathsome things Unutterable, the ravening hunger. Some, Whom we had plunder'd oft, laugh'd in their agony To see us baffled. At her door she met us, And "We have feasted together heretofore," She said, "most welcome warriors!" and she led us, And bade us sit like dear and honour'd guests, While she made ready. Some among us wonder'd, And some spake jeeringly, and thank'd the lady That she had thus with provident care reserved The choicest banquet for our scarcest days. But ever as she busily minister'd,
Quick, sudden sobs of laughter broke from her. At length the vessel's covering she rais'd up, And there it lay—
What lay ?-Thou'rt sick and pale. Ben Cathla. By earth and heaven, the remnant of a child! A human child!-Ay, start! so started we- Whereat she shriek'd aloud, and clapp'd her hands, "Oh! dainty and fastidious appetites!
The mother feasts upon her babe, and strangers
Loathe the repast"—and then-" My beautiful child! The treasure of my womb! my bosom's joy!" And then in her cool madness did she spurn us Out of her doors. Oh still-oh still I hear her, And I shall hear her till my day of death.
High-Priest. Oh, God of Mercies! this was once thy city!
Joy to thee, beautiful and bashful bride!
Joy! for the thrills of pride and joy become thee; Thy curse of barrenness is taken from thee. And thou shalt see the rosy infant sleeping Upon the snowy fountain of thy breast;
And thou shalt feel how mothers' hearts are blest By hours of bliss for moment's pain and weeping. Joy to thee!'-p. 107–120.
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