Within the magic harp-strings; while his voice,
Richer and sweeter still, in rapturous hymns,
Like holy incense mingling with the air,
Floats gratefully to heaven. And David's eyes,
And voice, and heart, are heavenward. I am sure
He cannot worship woman, for his soul
Adores the God. He will but love his wife
As a rich gift from Him; and prize her love
Only as it is holy and subdu'd

To the pure laws of heaven. Will such a love
Suffice a heart like thine?-a glowing heart
On fire with passion? Much I fear that thou
Wouldst claim the worship which his pious soul
Will ever pay to God. The bridegroom comes!
Go thou to meet him, sister, while I strive
To chase these crimson joys back to the deep
And silent sanctuary of the heart,
Where none may read them.

CHAPTER II.

Who sits within the bridal chamber now, Adorn'd with broider'd robes, and blazing gems, And wreaths of snowy blossoms? She is fairBeauty's perfection looks, and moves, and speaks, Throughout her sumptuous person. All too fair She seems for this dark earth-too glorious To be a creature of the race which bows To death, to pain, and sorrow. Dark-eyed maids Are smiling round her-each with busy hand Adding some ornaments, some gem, some grace; Till art is quite exhausted. Bending now With looks of adoration at her feet,

They kiss her robe's bright border, and withdraw.
And she is left alone. And there she stands,
Amongst the garner'd treasures of the earth,
Peerless in radiant beauty.

But wherefore does the brooch of opal stone
That clasps the ærial drapery o'er her breast,
Glitter so like a dew-drop in the sun?
It trembles with the quick convulsive throbs
That heave the breast beneath it. The white hands
Are clasp'd in the strong language of despair,
Despite the glittering bracelets and bright rings,
Which give and borrow beauty. Big bright tears
Fall down and mingle with the diamond chains
That sparkle on her bosom; while the pearl
Contests the ruby's place upon her cheeks

And beautiful curv'd lips. The sweet breath comes
In deep quick sobs, and goes in plaintive moans,
Like melancholy music.

Michal!-Love!

Her bridegroom's arm is round her graceful form.
She shudders, shrinks, and droops across his arm,
Like a rich blossom wounded at the heart
And wilted in its glory. Her dark curls
Sweep the rich pavement, and the bridal wreath
Falls from amongst their clusters. Omen dire
To the glad-hearted bridegroom. Even his cheeks
Grow pale as water-lilies, as he lifts

And lays that marble face against his breast
Which throbs with love and terror. He has lov'd
Long, well, and warily; and with a love
Which has so bent the spirit of the man,
That he is fain to rest his dearest hopes
Upon a bosom where the heart within
Is aching for another;-while he knows,
That it has been a throbbing pillow for
That other's glowing cheek. And he believes,
Such is the simple waywardness of man,

That by devotion, and untiring zeal,
And smiles, like summer sunshine, seen and felt,
He can win back that heart from its first love,
And teach its pulse to vibrate to the touch
Of his well-tried affection. He should pray
For wisdom from above, and school his heart
To patience and forbearance, who attempts
A task so tedious-so nigh lorn of hope.
Now to his heart Phaltiel clasps the form
Of his unconscious bride, and on her lips,
Never resigned till now to his caress,
Presses fond kisses. David, my lov'd lord!
She murmurs forth, as she revives, and clasps
Her alabaster arms around his neck.
His spirit writhes; but he retains her form
Until her opening eyes meet his, and then
Her clasp unlooses, and her eyes fill fast,
While her frame totters. Yet with strong resolve
She conquers her emotion, and sits down
Calmly beside her lord. Oh, woman's heart!
How mightily it struggles with its pangs,
And locks up agonies that would burst through
The iron breast of man. Her cheek is pale,
But in the arm he holds, the telltale pulse
Is throbbing wildly, and he feels how great-
How bitter is her trial. Soft he speaks,
And strives to win her mind back from the maze
Of agonizing memories. How can she,
David's adoring wife-she for whose sake
He gave himself to danger, and perform'd
High feats of valor; which provok'd the fear
And envious hatred of the royal Saul,
Till she was forc'd by stratagem to save
Her husband from the vengeance of her sire.
His blessing rested on her, as he went
Forth to the wilderness, an exil'd man,
To pass his days in hunting the wild game,
In danger, and privation, and his nights

In some lone cavern. How could she bestow
Her hand unto another, and receive
The nuptial benediction? Yet the will
Of man decreed, and woman must submit.
The years that pass along with equal pace,

Spite of the myriad voices that cry out

Speed on! Speed on! Spite of the frenzied shrieks,
And pray'rs, and wailings, of the throngs that plead—
A little longer! and lie down and die,

Or weep in the dark madness of despair,
Bewailing the sweet buds, the tender flow'rs,
The worship'd baubles-that lie crush'd, or bent,
Upon the solemn pathway. Years have pass'd:
The slender-blossom'd twig has now become
A full-leaf'd bough, adorn'd with tender fruit.
How beautiful within her husband's house
She seems amongst her children. While the love,
Which, like a river from its numerous springs,
Flows on forever, with a ceaseless song,
Mingling with the sweet chorus of heaven's hosts,
Which smile to see their shadows trembling deep
Within its liquid mirror-that pure love,
Which laves no other bosom under heaven,
Than that on which its own dear babe has lain-
Was flowing sweetly now through Michal's heart,
As her young cherub smil'd upon her knee;
And little, laughing fellows, gamboll'd round—
Now skipping up to kiss the idol babe,

Or climbing to embrace, with round white arms,
The mother's pearly neck.

Phaltiel gazes on the group with pride,
Feeling that all its beauty, innocence,

And promise, is his own. With lingering gaze

Of blissful love he pauses at the door, As he obeys a summons to attend

A messenger on business from his king.
Michal who met that fond triumphant look
Felt her cheek crimson. Years of placid life
With every blessing crown'd, and her fair babes,
Had bound her to Phaltiel with a tie

Of calm and grateful friendship. Yet, when fame
Proclaim'd the deeds, the glories, and the power,
Of her young heart's ador'd and loving lord,
Keen pangs shot through her bosom. Yet the pride
That made her long to share his glorious throne,
Came ever to her aid; for she believ'd

That he had ceas'd to love her-that he thought
Of Michal as the daughter of a house,
Denounc'd of God, and fallen. And she felt
The cold and withering glance which she beheld
At Endor, in her vision, in her soul;

While her fond husband's deep and generous love
Seem'd to reproach her, that her heart was still
The captive of a man who lov'd her not.

Oh, God of mercy! was the bitter cry
That fell in thrilling accents on her ear,
As he who left her late, so full of joy,

Reenter'd, pale and trembling. Quick she springs
And clasps her arms around him; while the babe,
With one hand round her neck, grasps his bright curls
And put its little laughing face to his.

Dear father, what has happened? was the cry
With which his little sons came clustering round
With looks of wild alarm.

Michal. My honored lord,

What can distress you thus? May I not share
The grief that tortures you?

Phaltiel. No, Michal, no!

You will not share my sorrows; yet I hope
That you will pity me. Oh, selfish love,
That I should wish to mar thy happiness
With memories of me! Yet so to part!
Oh, Michal-Michal! Canst thou bear to go
From thine adoring husband? Canst thou part
Forever from thy children? Canst thou lay
That little nestling cherub from thy breast,
And turn from it forever? That caress-
That close and fond embrace will be the last
Which that poor infant will receive from thee.
David hath claim'd thee; and my king hath sent
His veteran general, Abner, to demand
And bear thee strait to Hebron. Thou wilt go
To thy first love-to all the glittering state
And pride of royalty. But I shall be
Bereft and sorrowful-a widow'd man.
And thy poor babes will cling about my knees
And ask for thee with tears; and sorrow's blight
Shall mildew their young spirits, while they see
Their father ever mourning for the light
Of their lost mother's face. But Abner waits:
Alas! that I should say it-dearest, haste;
He waits thee in the hall.

Her trembling heart
Is well nigh bursting with the counter tides
Of joy and sorrow, and her flushing cheek
Betrays the alternate sway. Phaltiel's heart
Grows cold and heavy, as she seems to shrink
Away from his embrace. With one long sigh
He drops his trembling hands, and turns away
A crush'd and stricken man. One tender kiss
She presses on her infant's smiling lips,
Then lays it gently in its little couch;

Then glancing on her hush'd and wondering boys

Till the big tears come gushing from their fount
And overflow her eyelids-turns away
And hastens from the chamber, and is soon
With Abner at the gate. Phaltiel's soul
Is crush'd to infant weakness; and he sobs
Like a forsaken girl. His wife-his love-
The mother of his children;-she to whom
His young fresh heart was wedded, and around
Whose angel presence every tender string
And fibre of his being has entwin'd
Till life and she are blended--she must go
To love and bless another; and his heart,
And house, and children, must be desolate.
His grief is so intense that manhood's pride
Falls down before it, as the lofty pine
Yields to the hurricane. Lost in the night
And wilderment of woe, he follows on,
Weeping along behind her, till at length
Abner, with stern command, bids him return.
Then with one lingering look-one silent pray'r-

He turns toward his desolated home,

A broken-hearted man. And Michal feels
Relief that he is gone, and in her ear

The voice of his lamenting died away.

CHAPTER III.

Why are the valleys sere, and the brown hills
So bare and joyless? Wherefore stand the herds
Lowing beside the wells? Why are the flocks
Roaming along the beds of the dry brooks,
And bleating piteously? Why are the vines
So light of clusters? Wherefore are the trees
Leafless and void of fruit? Why are the birds
Silent among the boughs with drooping wings?
Why is the husbandman so woe-begone?
And wherefore does he sow with bitter tears
His bare and burning fields?

There's blood upon the land; the guiltless blood
That Saul pour'd out in Gibeah, when he sought
(Regardless of the solemn covenant

Sworn in Jehovah's name by Israel's lords)
To root the remnant of the Amorites
From their possession in their father-land.

That blood now cries for vengeance; and the land

In its pollution, cries to heaven in vain

For show'rs, and vernal dews. Heaven will not hear, Until these fatal stains are wash'd away

With streams of the offender's lineal blood.

Who shall atone for Gibeah? Whose warm heart

Shall pour the dread oblation? Who shall go

From the glad sun-light-from the hymning earth;
From all the ties of fond entwining love

To the dire place of death, to give his blood
In expiation?

Hark! there is mourning in the palace-halls

The voice of bitter weeping gushes forth

From arch'd and rich-wreath'd casement. Michal, Queen!
Wife of King David-daughter to King Saul-

What wrings thy bosom now? See where she kneels-
All pale and negligent; with head bow'd down
Upon her broider'd cushions. Gold and gems
Lie strewn around her, disregarded now.
Her haughty soul is humbled; for she prays
And weeps before Jehovah.

Who is this
Stealing into the chamber, spirit-like?
Her perfect face is wasted, and so pale,
That one might deem it marble; and the hand
That grasps her mourning drapery is so thin-

So like a snow-flake in the moon's cold light:
And then her eyes—those large dark lustrous eyes—
With such expression as if they had seen
The last of all they lov'd to look upon
Wither'd away before them! Yet there dwells
A meek expression on her parted lips,
And in the bend of her majestic form,

That seems to say amen.

'Tis done! she said-
The expiatory sacrifice is now
Accepted of Jehovah. Cease your moans
And bid your tears cease flowing. God has heard
Our pray❜rs, and seen the sorrows of our hearts;
And our submission, and deep penitence,

Have risen like sweet incense to his throne,

And he has pitied us. Look up to heaven-
See how his swift wing'd messengers of peace
Are gathering above us. Even now

They shake from their soft plumes the cooling drops
Brighter than diamonds, and more precious far.
Let us adore his name, and humbly own

That he is just-that he is merciful,

Although our hearts are bleeding. Have we not Been proud, profanely, proudly proud, and insolent, Although we are but frail and worthless weeds Upon his pathway!

Michal! I have felt
The very bitterness of sin and woe,

As all alone I sat upon the rock
Watching by day and night, to keep away
The hateful beasts and birds that came around
Glaring with gloating eyes, and screaming forth
Their horrid longing for the blackening flesh
Of our unconscious children. Oh! what hours
Of agony I past, as the cold shades

Of night lay heavily round me, where I sat
With dry and quivering eye-balls glancing round
In extreme terror-as the fox, the dog,
And fierce hyena, crouch'd with flaming eyes,
And low and sullen growlings; while the gleam
Of the dead faces, with their livid light,
Added to terror all the pangs of grief.
Oh! it was dreadful-past the power of speech
To picture to the mind. Yet still I kept
My watch unshrinking, for the fervent love
Which my heart cherish'd for the beautiful,
The brave, but erring Saul. A love which since
Its chosen sanctuary in his breast

Was cold and broken, has dwelt tremblingly
Amongst his children, and which hover'd still
Around the ruin'd fabrics of its hopes-
Keeping its joyless watch. But yesternight,
About the midnight hour, my weary frame
Sunk under its exhaustion. Yet the pray'r
Still linger'd on my lips, and still my soul

Was wakeful on the watch. And, lo! there came
A rushing breeze, sweet as the richest breath

Of holy incense on the altar-stone

Before the mercy seat; and with it blent

A wreathen melody, which fill'd my soul

With peace and consolation. Mortal lips

Ne'er breathed so rich a strain; and nought of earth
Could ever penetrate and soothe the mind
With such a flood of sweetness. I arose,

And, lo! amid a halo of soft light,

Stood seven refulgent beings. Oh! what bliss
Thrill'd through my spirit, as their glorious eyes
Beam'd lovingly upon me, and I knew

Our disembodied children.

Oh! how vain

Poor Nature's joys and sorrows, hopes and fears,

And loves, appear'd that moment, as I look'd
Upon the spiritual, eternal world,
Where God is all in all, and where his will
Is understood;-where these dark walls of clay
No more can cast their shadows on the page
Of his wise purposes. I am content;

My children are at peace; beyond the reach
Of envy or ambition, strife or death.

Could'st thou have seen the light of blessedness Which play'd about their faces; could'st thou see The smiles with which they beckon'd me; the bliss Which was apparent as they look'd to heaven,

And vanish'd from my sight; thou would'st bow down And pour thy ardent gratitude to God.

Day broke upon the earth, and I arose ;

But, oh! how different were my feelings now,

As once again I look'd upon the clay
That had enshrin'd my angels-that was mine:
Alas! how weak and vile-how worthless grown.
To God belong the spirits, bright, and strong,
And perfect, as I saw them. I have thought
That you and I were cruelly bereft

Of our own treasures, for I could not feel
That God is Lord of all. And yet we know
That he who rears a bullock for himself
Will put it to his use, despite the moans
Of the poor dam that nurs'd it, and we feel
That he has done no wrong. Then should not God
The Merciful, the Perfect, use his own

At his good pleasure? Though to you or me,
His creatures also, was assigned the task
Of watching fondly for a little while
The beings of his will.

Michal. Amen! Amen!

His righteous will be done. He is all wise.
Michal is childless, and the house of Saul
Is now well nigh extinct. No son of mine,
As once I fondly hop'd, shall blend the blood
Of Saul and David and reign peacefully,
Combining every rival interest

In one broad flood of glory. But the Lord
Had otherwise determined; and his will
Is holiness. Oh, Rizpah! I have prov'd
The vanity of all earth's glorious things,
Her beauty, and her loves. All have been mine
In their perfection, yet behold me now,
Michal, Saul's daughter, reft and desolate,
Joyless, and hopeless; bending to the place
Of darkness and oblivion. Pride has wrought
The downfall of my house. Pride has destroy'd
My earthly happiness, and might have been
My everlasting ruin. But the Lord

Has follow'd me in mercy; and my heart

Is humbled now and contrite, and I feel,
Despite these tears, a peace so deep and sweet,
That I would not exchange it for the bloom
Of all my perish'd hopes. Hark! to the dirge,
The sweetly solemn anthem of the train
Sent by my royal husband to convey
The gather'd relics of Saul's family
To holy sepulture beside their sires.
The mournful melody breathes to my soul
King David's sorrow for the royal house
Which sinn'd itself away. I know he mourns
Deeply for me and mine; though on him rest
The blessings we rejected. May the Lord
Bless him forever, when the name of Saul
Is utterly forgotten.

Liberty, Penn., April 1840.

LYDIA JANE.