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18 All the kings of the nations, all of them,
Lie down in glory, each in his own sepulchre : 19 But thou art cast out of the grave, as the tree abominated ;*
20 Thou shalt not be joined unto them in burial;
Because thou hast destroyed thy country, thou hast slain thy people.
The seed of evil doers shall never be renowned. 21 Prepare ye slaughter for his children, for the iniquity of their fathers;
Clothed with the slain, with the pierced by the sword, With them that go down to the stones of the pit; as a trodden carcass.
22 For I will arise against them, saith Jehovah God of Hosts: And I will cut off from Babylon the name, and the remnant; And the son, and the son's son, saith Jehovah.
23 And I will make it an inheritance for the porcupine, and
Lest they rise, and possess the earth; and fill the face of the world with cities.
Jehovah God of Hosts hath sworn, saying:
Surely as I have devised, so shall it be; And as I have purposed, that thing shall stand: 25 To crush the Assyrian in my land, and to trample him on my mountains.
pools of water;
And I will plunge it in the miry gulf of destruction, saith Jehovah God of Hosts.
Then shall his yoke depart from off them;
And his burthen shall be removed from off their shoulder. 26 This is the decree, which is determined on the whole
And this is the hand, which is stretched out over all the
27 For Jehovah God of Hosts hath decreed; and who shall
And it is his hand, that is stretched out; and who shall turn it back?
That is, as an abomination and detestation; such as the tree is, on which a malefactor has been hanged. "It is written, saith Saint Paul, Gala. iii. 13. cursed is every man that hangeth on a tree :" from Deut. xxi. 23. The Jews therefore held also as accursed and polluted the tree itself on which a malefactor had been executed, or on which he had been hanged after having been put to death by stoning.
Lochiel was the chief of the warlike clan of the Camerons; and one of the most prominent, in respect to power and influence, among the Highland chieftains. He attached himself to the cause of Charles Stuart, called the Pretender, from the claim that he made to the British throne. In the following piece, Lochiel is supposed to be marching, with the warriours of his clan, to join the standard which Charles had raised among the Highlands in his invasion of Scotland in 1745. On his way he is met by a Seer or Wigard, who, having, according to the popular superstition, the gift of second sight, or prophecy, forewarns him of the disastrous event of the Pretender's enterprise, and exhorts him to return home, and not be involved in the certain destruction that awaited the cause and the followers of Charles, and which afterwards fell upon them in the battle of Culloden.
Seer. LOCHIEL! Lochiel, beware of the day
Lochiel. Go, preach to the coward, thou death-telling seer} Or, if gory Culloden so dreadful appear, Draw, dotard, around thy old wavering sight, This mantle, to cover the phantoms of fright.
Seer. Ha! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn? Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn!
* The Gaelic appellation of Scotlari, more particularly the High
Say, rushed the bold eagle exultingly forth,
Lochiel. False Wizard, avaunt! I have marshalled my clan:
Alluding to the perilous escape of Charles from the west of Scot
Say, mounts he the ocean-wave, banished, forlorn,
Lochiel. -Down, soothless insulter! I trust not the tale: Though my perishing ranks should be strewed in their gore, Like ocean-weeds heaped on the surf-beaten shore, Lochiel, untainted by flight or by chains, While the kindling of life in his bosom remains, Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low, With his back to the field, and his feet to the foe! And leaving in battle no blot on his name, Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame.
The Poet and the Alchymist.-NEW MONTHLY MAGAZINE.
The rhymes and novels which cajole us,
But from the waters of Pactolus.
Before this golden age of writers,
A Grub-street Garreteer existed,
Of odes and poems to be twisted
All ticketed from A to Izzard;
Like a ropemaker's were his ways;
Hard by his attick lived a Chymist,
To find the art of changing metals,
Our starving Poet took occasion
The money paid, our bard was hurried
And carefully put to the shutter, “Now, now, the secret I implore ;
Out with it-speak-discover-utter!"
With grave and solemn look, the poet
Who still, though bless'd, new blessings crave, That we may all have what we like,
Simply by liking what we have."