Yet still his faith failed not: he heard behind him
A guiding voice; and took his lonely way
To Cherith's desert brook, which, midst the drought
And waste around, held yet a slender stream.
The limpid rill allayed his raging thirst,
And cooled his fevered brow; while the soft flow
His spirit calmed, and whispered sympathy,
Unfound in earth beside. Yet still remained
Nature's chief want unsatisfied; for food
Was none, above earth's surface, or below.
Berries, which hunger would with the poor bird
Have shared, lay scorched and sere beneath the bush;
And roots, distasteful, crude, which famished beasts
Might have provoked to contest, were imprisoned
In the burnt soil, fast as with iron bands.
Yet still faith failed not, but unshaken stood,
Firm as the rooted hills.
How easily Omnipotence can yield
His aid to all, when mortal succour fails,
Be it a mighty nation, hemmed within
A foodless desert, or a suffering saint;
And the same hand which throws his windows open, To shower on fainting millions heavenly bread,
Can individualise his care, and tend
(As watches o'er her charge the tender nurse),
'Midst sandy plains and solitary wastes,
A faithful servant. Meekly by that stream
He sat, and mused; till sacred illapses,
And heavenward aspirations, filled his soul,
And for a while subdued the body's wants:
When, lo! in distance, on the sultry sky,
(No fable this, for childhood coined—no tale
From legends dim, or feigned mythologies;
No parabolic veil of meanings deep,
And truths occult ;) borne on the distant sky,
Specks-formless first-then, nearer, and more near,
Revealing broad-spread pinions—birds were seen,
Of nature ravenous; yet now, not bent
(As is their wont, midst wastes inhospitable,
By instinct urged, or by some sense acute
Of eye or smell) to gorge on offal dire,
The desert-perished corse of beast or man ;
But, with officious wing, duteously bearing
Supplies of food, by their own hungry beak
Untouched, to lay them at the Prophet's feet.
Yes, and not such alone as had sufficed
Feebly to keep in movement life's frail springs,
But that-oh pity matchless, love divine !—
Which yielded comfort, nutriment, and strength.
Oh, rich repast! Oh sweetness never found
Where wealth and luxury their tables load!
And you, ye poor, ye lonely wanderers
In barren deserts; storm-tossed voyagers
Midst gulfing floods; lift up your drooping hearts; Think of Elijah, and fresh courage take!
But soon the fierce, unshaded beams supped up That slender stream-emblem of life's brief joys, And fleeting solaces. Yet failed not still The mighty Friend, the gracious Guardian's aid; But to Sarepta, in far Zidon's land,
The prophet's steps were guided.
There, not less Than in his native land, famine and death,
Dire fruit of widespread guilt, met his sad gaze.
Mid the drear outskirts of the town a form,
Withered and wan and wasted, shadow-like,
Crept o'er the blasted soil. Her tattered garb,
Faded and squalid, widowhood bespoke :
She held an only child, a gentle boy-
All that survived the wreck of life's young joys,
And riper comforts;—and her sad employ,
From the bare fields to glean such slender fuel
As might, with fitful blaze, prepare one meal,
The last; then-life's stern conflict o'er-to die!
Oh pampered sense, and sated appetite! Oh heart, which selfishness has ossified,
And luxury turned to stone! Thou who hast spent
A pauper's revenue upon a meal,
Look on this picture;-not by fancy coined,
To fan a deadened sensibility,
But drawn by Truth's eternal pencil :—look,
And melt to pity! open the closed hand;
And learn a newer, sweeter joy, to give!
And ye, poor outcasts, shut out from life's feast,
Whom now not e'en its crumbs can reach; fear not!
Look up; one stands by you, to mortal eye
Poor as yourselves, but bearing that within,
Which shall your slender handfuls multiply
To plenteousness; draw out those waning drops
In streams as copious as your need, and his;
And when the body's wants are satisfied-
Give to your hungry spirits nourishment,
Sweeter than aught which Eden's fields supplied.-
'Tis done; abundance, at the Prophet's word,
Heaven-prompted, heaped their famine-stricken board;
And health and comfort crowned their rescued lives.
Nor food and solace only thus were gained,
And thus dispensed; but in that calm retreat,
Where, like some mighty war-ship, buffeted
And torn in fierce encounter with the foe,
Which takes her to a sheltered haven, there
To smooth her ruffled armaments, and fit
For contests yet to come; the Prophet found
Gentle companionship, which soothed his soul,
And cheered his weary way. For brightest grace
And highest gifts, in this our mortal state,
Despise not mortal solace, nor reject
The humblest tending; while on that darken'd home,
Fell a soft reflex from the sacred rays
Of heavenly commerces and thoughts divine,
Which circled him around. Thus that lone pair
Drank from his reverend lips truths, copious drawn
From their ethereal source; revealings rich
And various of the spirit's inner life;
Precepts and warnings gracious as the dew
Of morn and eve, to guide youth's devious way;
And comforts for the path of widowed age.
-Cherish, thou gentle neophyte, these hours
Of sacred converse, and heaven-sent instruction!
And thou, poor wanderer in the lonely vale
Of downward age, bless Him who thus, above
Thy sorrowing mates, allots thee such a guest!
Sweet moments! happy household! shrined and sealed
By heavenly favour; fed with heaven-given bread;
Kept, amidst strifes abroad, in home-found peace!
Sweet moments, yet how brief! Continuous rest,
Or long, Heaven vields not here. The trembling wave
Settles, and basks, in the soft beam, its hour;
And then the gust returns, and once again
Ruffles the mirrored calm. That gentle youth ;-
Whether the death-reprieve, abrupt and sharp,
O'erwrought his sentient spirit's slender springs;
Or the attenuated frame brooked ill
Its restituted nutriment ;-that boy-
The prop and stay of lonely widowhood-
The Prophet's late-found joy-dearer, oh far!
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