Thy nervous arms, and, after that,

When I had found thy falsehood, with new ropes To bind thee fast? I knew thou didst but mock

me.

Alas, when in thy sleep I bound thee with them,
To try thy truth, I cried, 'The Philistines
Be upon thee, Samson!' Then did suspicion wake
thee;

How didst thou rend the feeble ties !

Thou fearest nought, what shouldst thou fear? Thy power is more than mortal, none can hurt thee;

Thy bones are brass, thy sinews are iron;

Ten thousand spears are like the summer grass; An army of mighty men are as flocks in the valleys:

What canst thou fear? I drink my tears like water;
I live upon sorrow! O worse than wolves and tigers,
What canst thou give when such a trifle is denied
me?

But oh! at last thou mockest me, to shame
My over-fond enquiry! Thou told'st me
To weave thee to the beam by thy strong hair;
I did even that to try thy truth; but, when

I cried The Philistines be upon thee!' then Didst thou leave me to bewail that Samson loved me not.'

He sat, and inward grieved:

He saw and loved the beauteous suppliant,
Nor could conceal aught that might appease her.
Then, leaning on her bosom, thus he spoke:
"Hear, O Dalila ! doubt no more of Samson's love;

For that fair breast was made the ivory palace
Of my inmost heart, where it shall lie at rest.
For sorrow is the lot of all of woman born:
For care was I brought forth, and labour is my

lot:

Nor matchless might, nor wisdom, nor every gift enjoyed,

Can from the heart of man hide sorrow.

Twice was my birth foretold from heaven, and twice

A sacred vow enjoined me that I should drink
No wine, nor eat of any unclean thing,
For holy unto Israel's God I am,

A Nazarite even from my mother's womb.
Twice was it told, that it might not be broken.
'Grant me a son, kind Heaven,' Manoa cried;
But Heaven refused.

Childless he mourned, but thought his God knew best.

In solitude, though not obscure, in Israel

He lived, till venerable age came on:

His flocks increased, and plenty crowned his board:

Beloved, revered of man. But God hath other joys
In store. Is burdened Israel his grief?

The son of his old age shall set it free!
The venerable sweetener of his life
Receives the promise first from heaven.

She saw

The maidens play, and blessed their innocent

mirth;

She blessed each new-joined pair; but from her The long-wished deliverer shall spring.

Pensive, alone she sat within the house,

F

When busy day was fading, and calm evening,
Time for contemplation, rose

From the forsaken east, and drew the curtains of heaven.

Pensive she sat, and thought on Israel's grief,
And silent prayed to Israel's God; when lo!
An angel from the fields of light entered the house.
His form was manhood in the prime,

And from his spacious brow shot terrors through the evening shade.

But mild he hailed her— Hail, highly favoured!'

said he;

For lo! thou shalt conceive, and bear a son, And Israel's strength shall be upon his shoulders, And he shall be called Israel's Deliverer.

Now, therefore, drink no wine, and eat not any unclean thing,

For he shall be a Nazarite to God.'

Then, as a neighbour, when his evening tale is told, Departs, his blessing leaving, so seemed he to depart :

She wondered with exceeding joy, nor knew he was an angel.

Manoa left his fields to sit in the house,

And take his evening's rest from labour

The sweetest time that God has allotted mortal

man.

He sat, and heard with joy,

And praised God, who Israel still doth keep.
The time rolled on, and Israel groaned oppressed.
The sword was bright, while the ploughshare
rusted,

Till hope grew feeble, and was ready to give place to doubting.

Then prayed Manoa :

'O Lord, thy flock is scattered on the hills,The wolf teareth them;

Oppression stretches his rod over our land;

Our country is ploughed with swords, and reaped in blood;

The echoes of slaughter reach from hill to hill;
Instead of peaceful pipe, the shepherd bears
A sword; the ox-goad is turned into a spear!
Oh when shall our Deliverer come?

The Philistine riots on our flocks,

Our vintage is gathered by bands of enemies! Stretch forth thy hand, and save.'-Thus prayed Manoa.

The aged woman walked into the field,

And lo! again the angel came,

Clad as a traveller fresh risen on his journey. She ran and called her husband, who came and talked with him.

'O man of God,' said he, thou com'st from far! Let us detain thee while I make ready a kid, That thou mayst sit and eat, and tell us of thy name and warfare;1

That, when thy sayings come to pass, we may honour thee.'

The angel answered, 'My name is Wonderful;
Enquire not after it, seeing it is a secret;
But, if thou wilt, offer an offering unto the Lord.""

[END OF THE POETICAL SKETCHES.]

1 Should this word be "wayfare"?

THE BOOK OF THEL.

(ENGRAVED 1789.)

Does the Eagle know what is in the pit,
Or wilt thou go ask the Mole?
Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod,
Or Love in a golden bowl?

I.

HE Daughters of the Seraphim led round their sunny flocks,―

All but the youngest: she in paleness sought the secret air,

To fade away like morning beauty from her mortal day.

Down by the river of Adona her soft voice is

heard,

And thus her gentle lamentation falls like morning dew.

"O life of this our Spring! why fades the lotus of the water?

Why fade these children of the Spring, born but to smile and fall?

Ah! Thel is like a watery bow, and like a parting

cloud,