The New England Weekly Review

For the New-England Weekly Review.

JUDITH AND HOLOFERNES.

A FRAGMENT.

She sat in weeds of lonely widowhood
Upon the solitary housetop. There
With mournful sackcloth girt, each day she spent
In fasting and in prayer!—To Him who lives
And reigns, the widow's guardian and defence,
The silent, beautiful supplication rose—
Oft in communion with her Sire and Friend
She half forsook this world of misery
And on the soul-uplifting wings of Faith,
Seem'd to behold the azure gates of light—
The countless multitude of souls redeem'd,—
The angel host around the eternal throne——
The throne itself and Him who sits thereon,
To hear the everlasting songs of Heav'n
Sung on the golden harps by all the choir
Of Saints and Angels, to their Saviour God!

Throughout Bethulia's leaguer'd walls now reign'd
The awful stillness of despair unbroken
Save when the parched lip, the famish'd tongue
Utter'd the cry of woe, or when the voice
Of sinking Hope arose in anxious pray'r
For succour in its wretchedness, to Heav'n!

And succour came—yet no array of might,
No glittering helm, no shield, no spear, was seen—
No fiery bolts leap'd from the warring sky—
No horrid chasm yawn'd in the quaking earth
To quell the foes of Zion and of God!

But morning came and like the pearly dew
Before the sun, the heathen host had fled,
Their conqueror, a woman faint and weak
But cheer'd and strengthen'd by the Lord of Hosts.

Her smiles the cruel tyrant had enchain'd
And, high uplifted in her feeble hand
The gleaming falchion met his slum'bring neck
And Israel was free!

"Praise ye the Lord!
With trumpets and cymbals, exalt ye his name
In songs of rejoicing, his goodness proclaim!
He hath bar'd his right arm, he hath utter'd his thunder,
From Heav'n, his high throne, hath he sent forth his voice,
He hath riven the chain of the captive asunder
And wrought our salvation, then let us rejoice!"

"Laud ye our God!
Declare ye his judgments, his mercy extol,
Who reigns ever-blessed, and God over all!
For the heathen came down in the pride of his power
With high and vain boastings of strength and of might,
But the Lord God of Hosts was our strong hold and tower,
And woman's weak hand hath prevail'd in the fight!"

D.