48 HENRY KIRKE WHITE's POEMS, 



While stern Destruction laughs, as if in scorn, 

 That thou didst dare insult God's eldest born ; 



And, with most bitter persecuting ire, 



Pursued his footsteps till the last day-dawn 



Rose on his fortunes — and thou saw'st the fire 

 That came to light the world in one great flash expire. 



IV, 



Oh ! for a pencil dipt in living light, 



To paint the agonies that Jesus bore I 

 Oh ! for the long lost harp of Jesse's might, 



To hymn the Saviour's praise from shore to shore; 



While seraph hosts the lofty paean pour, 

 And heaven enraptur'd lists the loud acclaim ! 



May a frail mortal dare the theme explore ? 

 I\Iay he to human ears his weak song frame ? 

 Oh ! may he dare to sing Messiah's glorious name ? 



V. 



Spirits of pity ! mild Crusaders come ! 



Buoyant on clouds around your minstrel float ; 

 And give him eloquence who else were dumb, 



And raise to feeling and to fire his note ! 



And thou, Urania ! who dost still devote 

 Thy nights and days to God's eternal shrine, 



Whose mild eyes 'lumined what Isaiah wrote, 

 Throw o'er thy bard that solemn stole of thine, 

 And clothe him for the fight with energy divine. 



VT. 



When from the temple's lofty summit prone, 

 Satan o'ercome, fell down ; and 'throned there, 



The Son of God confest, in splendour shone : 

 Swift as the glancing sunbeam cuts the air, 

 Mad with defeat, and yelling his despair, 



Fled the stern king of Hell — and with the glare 

 Of gilding meteors, ominous and red, 

 Shot athwart the clouds that gather'd round his head. 



