Who are these whose praises pealing
    From beyond the Morning Star
  Earthward solemnly are stealing
    Down the distance faint and far? 
  These are they, the Ever Living,
    All in glistening garments gone,
  Palm in hand, with proud Thanksgiving
    Up before the Great White Throne.

THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM

(After Eben Fardd, 1802-1863, one of the leading Welsh poets of the nineteenth century)

RACHEL MOURNING

  Rachel, ah me! most wretchedly
    Mourns, meekest, worthiest woman,
  Her husband dear hurled to his bier
    By Roman fiends inhuman. 
  Tremulously now murmurs she: 
    “Naught’s here but naked horror;
  Black despond and blind despair,
    Mad turmoil, murderous terror! 
  Free he rose, his hero blows
    Gave Rome black cause to rue him;
  Ten to one, then they run
    Their poisonous poignards through him. 
  Thus took flight thy tortured sprite,
    Dear heart, from my fond seeing! 
  Now stars on high in stark dawn die,
    We too must far be fleeing. 
  Children dear, I thrill with fear
    To hear your hungry crying! 
  Away, away! one more such day—­
    And we’re too weak for flying.”

THE BURNING TEMPLE

  The savage foes of this lost land of ours
  Conspire to fire Antonius’ shapely towers. 
  Ere long the Temple proud, surpassing all
  Art’s fairest gems, shall unto earth be bowed! 
  Lo! through the lurid gloom the lightning’s lash! 
  And hark the unnatural thunder crash and boom! 
  Moriah’s marvellous fane is leaning low;
  With cries of woe her rafters rend in twain;
  For our Imperial One is brought to naught. 
  Yea, even where most cunningly she was wrought,
  The fire has cleft its way each coign into,
  For wood and stone searching her bosom through. 
  Astonishingly high she took the blue,
  Yet weeping molten dross shall meet the ground—­
  A sight for grief profound to gaze across. 
  Flame follows flame, each like a giant worm,
  To feast and batten on her beauteous form. 
  Through gold and silver doors they sinuous swarm
  And crop the carven flowers with gust enorme;
  Till all is emptiness. 
                         Then with hellish shout
  The embruted Gentiles in exultant rout
  Into her Holy of Holies profanely press!

  One streaming flood of steaming blood—­
      Shudders her sacred pavement!

LOVE DIVINE

(From “Emanuel.”  After Gwilym Hiraethog, 1802-1880.)

  When the angel trumpet sounded. 
    Through the unbounded ether blown,
  Star on star danced on untiring,
    Choiring past the Great White Throne;
  Then as, every globe outglancing,
    Earth’s entrancing orb went by,
  Love Divine in blushing pleasure
    Steeped the azure of the sky.