The Holy Land

Through the warm noontide, I have roam'd
Where Cesar's palace-ruins lie,
And in the Forum's lonely waste
Oft listen'd to the night-wind's sigh.

I've traced the moss-lines on the walls
That Venice conjured from the sea,
And seen the Colosseum's dust
Before the breeze of autumn flee.

Along Pompeii's lava-street,
With curious eye, I've wander'd lone,
And mark'd Segesta's temple-floor
With the rank weeds of ages grown.

I've clamber'd Etna's hoary brow,
And sought the wild Campagna's gloom;
I've hail'd Geneva's azure tide,
And snatch'd a weed from Virgil's tomb.

Why all unsated j'earns my heart
To seek once more a pilgrim shrine'!
One other land I would explore —
The sacred fields of Palestine.

Oh, for a glance at those wild hills
That round Jerusalem arise!
And one sweet evening by the lake
That gleams beneath Judea's skies!

How anthem-like the wind must sound
In meadows of the Holy Land —
How musical the ripples break
Upon the Jordan's moonlit strand!

Behold the dew, like angels' tears,
Upon each thorn is gleaming now,
Blest emblems of the crown of love
There woven for the Sufferer's brow.

Who does not sigh to enter Nain,
Or in Capernaum to dwell;
Inhale the breeze from Galilee,
And rest beside Samaria's well?

Who would not stand beneath the spot
Where Bethlehem's star its vigil kept?
List to the plash of Siloa's pool,
And kiss the ground where Jesus wept!

Gethsemane who would not seek,
And pluck a lily by the way?
Through Bethany devoutly walk,
And on the mount of Olives pray?

How dear were one repentant night
Where Mart's tears of love were shed!
How blest, beside the Saviour's tomb,
One hour's communion with the dead!

What solemn joy to stand alone
On Calvary's celestial height.'
Or kneel upon the mountain-slope
Once radiant with supernal light!

I cannot throw my staff' aside,
Nor wholly quell the hope divine
That one delight awaits me yet —
A pilgrimage to Palestine.