CLASSICAL MODERN POETRY. 161 



Yes, on mine holy mountain's brow, 



I'll crush this proud Assyrian foe. 



Th' irrevocable word is spoke. 



From Judah's neck the galling yoke 

 Spontaneous falls ; she shines with wonted state. 

 Thus, by MYSELF I swear, and what I swear is FATE. 



MASON. 



HEAVENLY MINSTREL. 



Enthroned upon a hill of light, 



A heav'nly minstrel sings ; 

 And sounds, unutterably bright, 



Spring from the golden strings. 

 Who would have thought so fair a form 

 Once bent beneath an earthly storm ! 



Yet was he sad and lonely here j 



Of low and humble birth ; 

 And mingled, while in this dark sphere, 



With meanest sons of earth. 

 In spirit poor, in look forlorn, 

 The jest of mortals, and the scorn. 



A crown of heav'nly radiance now, 



A harp of golden strings, 

 Glitters upon his deathless brow, 



And to his hymn-note rings. 

 The bower of interwoven light 

 Seems, at the sound, to grow more bright. 



Then, while with visage blank and sear, 



The poor in soul we see, 

 Let us not think what he is here, 



But what he soon will be ; 

 And look beyond this earthly night, 

 To crowns of gold, and bowers of light. 



EDMESTON. 



