by Lord Byron
JEPHTHA’S DAUGHTER.
OH! SNATCHED AWAY IN BEAUTY’S BLOOM.
MY SOUL IS DARK.
I SAW THEE WEEP.
THY DAYS ARE DONE.
SAUL.
SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST BATTLE.
ALL IS VANITY, SAITH THE PREACHER.
WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS SUFFERING CLAY.
VISION OF BELSHAZZAR.
SUN OF THE SLEEPLESS!
WERE MY BOSOM AS FALSE AS THOU DEEM’ST IT TO BE.
HEROD’S LAMENT FOR MARIAMNE.
ON THE DAY OF THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM BY TITUS.
BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON WE SAT DOWN AND WEPT.
BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON.
THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.
A SPIRIT PASSED BEFORE ME.
Byron, close to the time of publication
INTRODUCTION
According to the “Advertisement” prefixed to Murray’s First Edition of the Hebrew Melodies, London, 1815 (the date, January, 1815, was appended in 1832), the “poems were written at the request of the author’s friend, the Hon. D. Kinnaird, for a selection of Hebrew Melodies, and have been published, with the music, arranged by Mr. Braham and Mr. Nathan.”
Byron’s engagement to Miss Milbanke took place in September, 1814, and the remainder of the year was passed in London, at his chambers in the Albany. The so-called Hebrew Melodies were, probably, begun in the late autumn of that year, and were certainly finished at Seaham, after his marriage had taken place, in January-February, 1815. It is a natural and pardonable conjecture that Byron took to writing sacred or, at any rate, scriptural verses by way of giving pleasure and doing honour to his future wife, “the girl who gave to song What gold could never buy.” They were, so to speak, the first-fruits of a seemlier muse.
It is probable that the greater number of these poems were in MS. before it occurred to Byron’s friend and banker, the Honble. Douglas James William Kinnaird (1788-1830), to make him known to Isaac Nathan (1792-1864), a youthful composer of “musical farces and operatic works,” who had been destined by his parents for the Hebrew priesthood, but had broken away, and, after some struggles, succeeded in qualifying himself as a musician.
Byron took a fancy to Nathan, and presented him with the copyright of his “poetical effusions,” on the understanding that they were to be set to music and sung in public by John Braham. “Professional occupations” prevented Braham from fulfilling his part of the engagement, but a guinea folio (Part. I.) (“Selections of Hebrew Melodies, Ancient and Modern, with appropriate symphonies and accompaniments, by I. Braham and I. Nathan, the poetry written expressly for the work by the Right Honourable Lord Byron”) — with an ornamental title-page designed by the architect Edward Blore (1789-1879), and dedicated to the Princess Charlotte of Wales — was published in April, 1815. A second part was issued in 1816.
The preface, part of which was reprinted (p. vi.) by Nathan, in his Fugitive Pieces and Reminiscences of Lord Byron, London, 1829, is not without interest —
“The Hebrew Melodies are a selection from the favourite airs which are still sung in the religious ceremonies of the Jews. Some of these have, in common with all their Sacred airs, been preserved by memory and tradition alone, without the assistance of written characters. Their age and originality, therefore, must be left to conjecture. But the latitude given to the taste and genius of their performers has been the means of engrafting on the original Melodies a certain wildness and pathos, which have at length become the chief characteristics of the sacred songs of the Jews….
“Of the poetry it is necessary to speak, in order thus publicly to acknowledge the kindness with which Lord Byron has condescended to furnish the most valuable part of the work. It has been our endeavour to select such melodies as would best suit the style and sentiment of the poetry.”
Moore, for whose benefit the Melodies had been rehearsed, was by no means impressed by their “wildness and pathos,” and seems to have twitted Byron on the subject, or, as he puts it (Life, p. 276), to have taken the liberty of “laughing a little at the manner in which some of the Hebrew Melodies had been set to music.” The author of Sacred Songs (1814) set to airs by Beethoven, Mozart, Haydn, etc., was a critic not to be gainsaid, but from the half-comical petulance with which he “curses” and “sun-burns” (Letters to Moore, February 22, March 8, 1815, Letters, 1899, iii. 179, 183) Nathan, and his “vile Ebrew nasalities,” it is evident that Byron winced under Moore’s “chaff.”
Apart from the merits or demerits of the setting, the title Hebrew Melodies is somewhat misleading. Three love-songs, “She walks in Beauty like the Night,” “Oh! snatched away in Beauty’s Bloom,” and “I saw thee weep,” still form part of the collection; and, in Nathan’s folio (which does not contain “A spirit passed before me”), two fragments, “It is the hour when from the boughs” and “Francesca walks in the shadow of night,” which were afterwards incorporated in Parisina, were included. The Fugitive Pieces, 1829, retain the fragments from Parisina, and add the following hitherto unpublished poems: “I speak not, I trace not,” etc., “They say that Hope is Happiness,” and the genuine but rejected Hebrew Melody “In the valley of waters we wept on the day.”
It is uncertain when Murray’s first edition appeared. Byron wrote to Nathan with regard to the copyright in January, 1815 (Letters, 1899, iii. 167), but it is unlikely that the volume was put on the market before Nathan’s folio, which was advertised for the first time in the Morning Chronicle, April 6, 1815; and it is possible that the first public announcement of the Hebrew Melodies, as a separate issue, was made in the Courier, June 22, 1815.
The Hebrew Melodies were reviewed in the Christian Observer, August, 1815, vol. xiv. p. 542; in the Analectic Magazine, October, 1815, vol. vi. p. 292; and were noticed by Jeffrey [The Hebrew Melodies, though “obviously inferior” to Lord Byron’s other works, “display a skill in versification and a mastery in diction which would have raised an inferior artist to the very summit of distinction”] in the Edinburgh Review, December, 1816, vol. xxvii. p. 291.
ADVERTISEMENT
The subsequent poems were written at the request of my friend, the Hon. Douglas Kinnaird, for a Selection of Hebrew Melodies, and have been published, with the music, arranged by Mr. Braham and Mr. Nathan.
January, 1815.
SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY.
I.
She walks in Beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that’s best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.
II.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o’er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
III.
And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
June 12, 1814.
THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
I.
The Harp the Monarch Minstrel swept,
The King of men, the loved of Heaven!
Which Music hallowed while she wept
O’er tones her heart of hearts had given —
Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven!
It softened men of iron mould,
It gave them virtues not their own;
No ear so dull, no soul so cold,
That felt not — fired not to the tone,
Till David’s Lyre grew mightier than his Throne!
II.
It told the triumphs of our King,
It wafted glory to our God;
It made our gladdened valleys ring,
The cedars bow, the mountains nod;
Its sound aspired to Heaven and there abode!
Since then, though heard on earth no more,
Devotion and her daughter Love
Still bid the bursting spirit soar
To sounds that seem as from above,
In dreams that day’s broad light can not remove.
IF THAT HIGH WORLD.
I.
If that high world, which lies beyond
Our own, surviving Love endears;
If there the cherished heart be fond,
The eye the same, except in tears —
How welcome those untrodden spheres!
How sweet this very hour to die!
To soar from earth and find all fears
Lost in thy light — Eternity!
II.
It must be so: ‘tis not for self
That we so tremble on the brink;
And striving to o’erleap the gulf,
Yet cling to Being’s severing link.
Oh! in that future let us think
To hold each heart the heart that shares,
With them the immortal waters drink,
And soul in soul grow deathless theirs!
THE WILD GAZELLE.
I.
The wild gazelle on Judah’s hills
Exulting yet may bound,
And drink from all the living rills
That gush on holy ground;
Its airy step and glorious eye
May glance in tameless transport by: —
II.
A step as fleet, an eye more bright,
Hath Judah witnessed there;
And o’er her scenes of lost delight
Inhabitants more fair.
The cedars wave on Lebanon,
But Judah’s statelier maids are gone!
III.
More blest each palm that shades those plains
Than Israel’s scattered race;
For, taking root, it there remains
In solitary grace:
It cannot quit its place of birth,
It will not live in other earth.
IV.
But we must wander witheringly,
In other lands to die;
And where our fathers’ ashes be,
Our own may never lie:
Our temple hath not left a stone,
And Mockery sits on Salem’s throne.
OH! WEEP FOR THOSE.
I.
Oh! weep for those that wept by Babel’s stream,
Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream;
Weep for the harp of Judah’s broken shell;
Mourn — where their God hath dwelt the godless dwell!
II.
And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet?
And when shall Zion’s songs again seem sweet?
And Judah’s melody once more rejoice
The hearts that leaped before its heavenly voice?
III.
Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast,
How shall ye flee away and be at rest!
The wild-dove hath her nest, the fox his cave,
Mankind their country — Israel but the grave!
ON JORDAN’S BANKS.
I.
On Jordan’s banks the Arab’s camels stray,
On Sion’s hill the False One’s votaries pray,
The Baal-adorer bows on Sinai’s steep —
Yet there — even there — Oh God! thy thunders sleep:
II.
There — where thy finger scorched the tablet stone!
There — where thy shadow to thy people shone!
Thy glory shrouded in its garb of fire:
Thyself — none living see and not expire!
III.
Oh! in the lightning let thy glance appear;
Sweep from his shivered hand the oppressor’s spear!
How long by tyrants shall thy land be trod?
How long thy temple worshipless, Oh God?
JEPHTHA’S DAUGHTER.
I.
Since our Country, our God — Oh, my Sire!
Demand that thy Daughter expire;
Since thy triumph was bought by thy vow —
Strike the bosom that’s bared for thee now!
II.
And the voice of my mourning is o’er,
And the mountains behold me no more:
If the hand that I love lay me low,
There cannot be pain in the blow!
III.
And of this, oh, my Father! be sure —
That the blood of thy child is as pure
As the blessing I beg ere it flow,
And the last thought that soothes me below.
IV.
Though the virgins of Salem lament,
Be the judge and the hero unbent!
I have won the great battle for thee,
And my Father and Country are free!
V.
When this blood of thy giving hath gushed,
When the voice that thou lovest is hushed,
Let my memory still be thy pride,
And forget not I smiled as I died!
OH! SNATCHED AWAY IN BEAUTY’S BLOOM.
I.
Oh! snatched away in beauty’s bloom,
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;
But on thy turf shall roses rear
Their leaves, the earliest of the year;
And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:
II.
And oft by yon blue gushing stream
Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,
And feed deep thought with many a dream,
And lingering pause and lightly tread;
Fond wretch! as if her step disturbed the dead!
III.
Away! we know that tears are vain,
That Death nor heeds nor hears distress:
Will this unteach us to complain?
Or make one mourner weep the less?
And thou — who tell’st me to forget,
Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.
[Published in the Examiner, April 23, 1815.]
MY SOUL IS DARK.
I.
My soul is dark — Oh! quickly string
The harp I yet can brook to hear;
And let thy gentle fingers fling
Its melting murmurs o’er mine ear.
If in this heart a hope be dear,
That sound shall charm it forth again:
If in these eyes there lurk a tear,
‘Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain.
II.
But bid the strain be wild and deep,
Nor let thy notes of joy be first:
I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
Or else this heavy heart will burst;
For it hath been by sorrow nursed,
And ached in sleepless silence long;
And now ‘tis doomed to know the worst,
And break at once — or yield to song.
I SAW THEE WEEP.
I.
I saw thee weep — the big bright tear
Came o’er that eye of blue;
And then methought it did appear
A violet dropping dew:
I saw thee smile — the sapphire’s blaze
Beside thee ceased to shine;
It could not match the living rays
That filled that glance of thine.
II.
As clouds from yonder sun receive
A deep and mellow dye,
Which scarce the shade of coming eve
Can banish from the sky,
Those smiles unto the m
oodiest mind
Their own pure joy impart;
Their sunshine leaves a glow behind
That lightens o’er the heart.
THY DAYS ARE DONE.
I.
Thy days are done, thy fame begun;
Thy country’s strains record
The triumphs of her chosen Son,
The slaughters of his sword!
The deeds he did, the fields he won,
The freedom he restored!
II.
Though thou art fall’n, while we are free
Thou shall not taste of death!
The generous blood that flowed from thee
Disdained to sink beneath:
Within our veins its currents be,
Thy spirit on our breath!
III.
Thy name, our charging hosts along,
Shall be the battle-word!
Thy fall, the theme of choral song
From virgin voices poured!
To weep would do thy glory wrong:
Thou shalt not be deplored.
SAUL.
I.
Thou whose spell can raise the dead,
Bid the Prophet’s form appear.
“Samuel, raise thy buried head!
King, behold the phantom Seer!”
Earth yawned; he stood the centre of a cloud:
Light changed its hue, retiring from his shroud.
Death stood all glassy in his fixéd eye;
His hand was withered, and his veins were dry;
His foot, in bony whiteness, glittered there,
Shrunken and sinewless, and ghastly bare;
From lips that moved not and unbreathing frame,
Like caverned winds, the hollow accents came.
Saul saw, and fell to earth, as falls the oak,
At once, and blasted by the thunder-stroke.
II.
“Why is my sleep disquieted?
Who is he that calls the dead?
Is it thou, O King? Behold,
Bloodless are these limbs, and cold:
Such are mine; and such shall be
Thine to-morrow, when with me:
Ere the coming day is done,
Such shalt thou be — such thy Son.
Fare thee well, but for a day,
Then we mix our mouldering clay.
Thou — thy race, lie pale and low,
Pierced by shafts of many a bow;
And the falchion by thy side
To thy heart thy hand shall guide:
Crownless — breathless — headless fall,
Son and Sire — the house of Saul!”
Seaham, Feb., 1815.
SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST BATTLE.
I.
Warriors and chiefs! should the shaft or the sword