THE DEFEAT OF SISERA. Their splendour is dimm'd in the blood of the slain- The mother of Sisera looks out on high, From the halls of her palace, for evening is nigh: And the wine-cup is brimm'd, and the bright torches burnAnd the banquet is piled, for the chieftain's return. She cries to her maidens-"Why comes not my son? Is the combat not o'er, and the battle not won? The steeds of Canaan are many and strong, She saith in her heart-yea, her wise maidens say— He seizeth the garment of glittering dyes, But Sisera's mother shall view him no more; And the owl and the raven are flapping their wings- J. O'CALLAGHAN. Where is He? AND where is he? Not by the side Of her whose wants he loved to tend; Not o'er those valleys wandering wide, Where sweetly lost, he oft would wend! That form beloved he marks no more; Those scenes admired no more shall see Those scenes are lovely as before, And she as fair-but where is he? No, no, the radiance is not dim That used to gild his favourite hill; The pleasures that were dear to him, Are dear to life and nature still: But ah! his home is not so fair, Neglected must his garden beThe lilies droop and wither there, And seem to whisper, where is he? His was the pomp, the crowded hall! But where is now the proud display? His riches, honours, pleasures, all Desire could frame: but where are they? And he as some tall rock that stands Protected by the circling sea, Surrounded by admiring bands, Seemed proudly strong-and where is he? WHERE IS HE? The churchyard bears an added stone, And death displays his banner there; NEELE. Imitation of the Persian. LORD! who are merciful as well as just, Father Almighty, who hast made me man, Accept my sacrifice and humble prayer. I lay before thee, Lord, with this petition: My nothingness, my wants, My sins, and my contrition. SOUTHEY. |