Jerusalem.
5
See, while the slow-expanding gates unclose,
How rich within the boundless lustre glows!
Here the tall palm for ever lives in gold,
There, sculptur'd flowers their fretted leaves unfold;
Thro' the long aisles bright lamps incessant beam,
And burnish'd censers roll the spicy stream.
But far within retires the dread abode,
Jehovah's throne—the Oracle of God;
Two cherubs there, with mimic glories bright,
High o'er the ark their guardian wings unite.
Beneath that shade no earthly treasures lie,
No emblems frail of human majesty.
But there enshrin'd the Holy Tablets rest,
By God ordain'd, by God himself imprest.
Thine were these mighty works, by thee design'd,
Belov'd of God, and wisest of mankind.
What[1] to thy Sire the will of Heav'n denied
To thee it gave, propitious, to provide.
Yet, while thy temple in the dust decays,
Lives the full splendor of his sacred lays,
O skill'd to wake the ever-varying lyre,
With all a Prophet's—all a Poet's fire,
What breast, that does not kindle at thy strain?
What heart, that melts not, when thy strings complain?
How rich within the boundless lustre glows!
Here the tall palm for ever lives in gold,
There, sculptur'd flowers their fretted leaves unfold;
Thro' the long aisles bright lamps incessant beam,
And burnish'd censers roll the spicy stream.
But far within retires the dread abode,
Jehovah's throne—the Oracle of God;
Two cherubs there, with mimic glories bright,
High o'er the ark their guardian wings unite.
Beneath that shade no earthly treasures lie,
No emblems frail of human majesty.
But there enshrin'd the Holy Tablets rest,
By God ordain'd, by God himself imprest.
Thine were these mighty works, by thee design'd,
Belov'd of God, and wisest of mankind.
What[1] to thy Sire the will of Heav'n denied
To thee it gave, propitious, to provide.
Yet, while thy temple in the dust decays,
Lives the full splendor of his sacred lays,
O skill'd to wake the ever-varying lyre,
With all a Prophet's—all a Poet's fire,
What breast, that does not kindle at thy strain?
What heart, that melts not, when thy strings complain?
