not desert him, he carried Sennacherib's letter into the temple, and spreading it before the altar, besought Jehovah to vindicate his own honour, by humbling the pride of him who thus dared to insult him. Hezekiah was not deceived in his expectations. The prophet Isaiah came to him with a declaration that Sen. nacherib should not be permitted, under any circumstances, to accomplish his threats; and the promise was strictly fulfilled on two separate occasions. In the first instance, Sennacherib, while employed in the siege of Libnah, was alarmed by a rumour that his own dominions had been invaded by a band of Cuthite Arabians, to oppose whose progress he found it necessary to march back with all haste; and though he overthrew them in a great battle, his second attempt upon Jerusalem proved equally abortive, and more disastrous in its issue. He arrived, indeed, in the vicinity of the city, took up his position with great parade, and once more defied, by his heralds, “the living God;" but that very night the blast of the Simoom* came upon his camp, and upwards of eighty thousand of his bravest soldiers perished. Sennacherib himself did not long survive this defeat. He fled in dismay to Nineveh, where he was soon afterward murdered in the temple of the god Nisroch, by two of his sons, who made their escape into Armenia, and left the succession open to Esar-haddon, their younger brother.

Destruction of Sennacherib's Army.-BYRON.

THE Assyrian came down', like the wolf on the fold',
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold';
And the sheen of their spears', was like stars on the sea',
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee'.

Like the leaves of the forest', when summer is green',
That host', with their banners', at sunset were seen':
Like the leaves of the forest', when autumn hath blown',
That host', on the morrow', lay withered and strown':

For the Angel of Death'.. spread his wings on the blast
And breathed'.. in the face of the foe'.. as he passed':
And the eyes of the sleepers'.. waxed deadly and chill',
And their hearts but once heaved', and forever grew still'.

*Then the angel of the LORD went forth, and smote, in the camp of the Assyr ians, a hundred and four score and five thousand: and when they arose early in the morning, behold, they were all dead corpses.-Isaiah.

And there lay the steed', with his nostril all wide';
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride';
And the foam of his gasping', lay white on the turf",
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf'.

And there lay the rider', distorted and pale',

With the dew on his brow', and the rust on his mail';
And the tents were all silent', the banners', alone',
The lances', unlifted', the trumpet', unblown'.

And the widows of Asher'.. are loud in their wail';
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal';
And the might of the Gentile', unsmote by the sword',
Hath melted', like snow', in the glance of the Lord',

SECTION XI.

Psalm 137.

By the rivers of Babylon', there we sat down': yea', we wept when we remembered Zion'. We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof': for there', they that carried us away captive', demanded of us a song'; and they that wasted us', required of us mirth', saying', "Sing us one of the songs of Zion'."

How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land"?

If I forget thee', O Jerusalem', let my right hand forget her cunning'. If I do not remember thee', let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth', if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy'.

Version of the same.—BARLOW.

ALONG the banks where Babel's current flows',
Our captive bands in deep despondence strayed',

While Zion's fall in sad remembrance rose',

Her friends', her children', mingled with the dead'.

The tuneless harp', that once with joy we strung',

When praise employed', and mirth inspired', the lay',

*Jê-ru'så'lêm. Kår'rent—not, curʼunt. Dě-spond ênse-not, dis pond'unse.

In mournful silence on the willows hung',
And growing grief prolonged the tedious day'.

The barbarous tyrants', to increase the wo',

With taunting smiles a song of Zion claim'; Bid sacred praise in streams melodious flow',

While they blaspheme the great Jehovah's name'.

But how', in heathen chains', and lands unknown',
Shall Israel's sons a song of Zion raise'?
O', hapless Salem God's terrestrial throne!!
Thou land of glory', sacred mount of praise'

If e'er my memoryd lose thy lovely name',

If my cold heart neglect my kindred race', Let dire destruction seize this guilty frame':

My hand shall perish', and my voice shall cease'

Yet shall the Lord', who hears when Zion calls',
O'ertake her foes with terrour and dismay';

His arm avenge her desolated walls',

And raise her children to eternal day'.

Version of the same.—BYRON.

We sat down and wept by the waters'
Of Babel', and thought of the day'
When our foe', in the house of his slaughters',
Made Salem's high places his prey';

And ye', oh', her desolate daughters'!

Were scattered all weeping away'.

While sadly we gazed on the river'
Which rolled on in freedom below',
They demanded the song'; but', oh', never'
That triumph the stranger shall know!!
May this right hand be withered forever',
Eres it string our high harp for the foe'!

On the willow that harp is suspended',
Oh Salem! its sound should be free';

Si'lênse. Så'lêm. cåre. Mêm'ür-rê.

And the hour when thy glories were ended'
But left me that token of thee':

And ne'era shall its soft tones be blended'
With the voice of the spoiler'.. by me'.

SECTION XII.

Cardinal Wolsey's Soliloquy on Ambition.-SHAKSPEARE.
FAREWELL', a long farewell', to all my greatness!!
This is the state of man':-to-day he puts forth
The tender leaves of hope'; to-morrow', blossoms',
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him':
The third day', comes a frost', a killing frost';
And',-when he thinks', good', easy man', full surely
His greatness is a rîpening',-nips his root',
And then he falls', as I do'. I have ventured',
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders',
These many summers in a sea of glory';
But far beyond my depth'. My high-blown pride
At length broke under me'; and now has left me',
Weary', and old with service', to the mercy

Of a rude stream that must forever hide me'.
Vain pomp and glory of this world', I hate you':
I feel my heart new opened'. O', how wretched
Is that pôôr man that hangs on princes' favours'!
There are', betwixt that smile he would aspire to',
That sweet aspect of princes and his ruin',
More pangs and fears than wars or women have':
And when he falls', he falls', like Lucifer',
Never to hope again'.e

SECTION XIII.

Cardinal Wolsey's Farewell Address to Cromwell.
SHAKSPEARE.

CROMWELL', I did not think to shed a tear

In all my miseries'; but thou hast forced me',

Out of thy honest truth', to play the woman'.

Let's dry our eyes': and', thus far', hear me', Cromwell':

Nåre. Put-u in båll.

A-gên'.

Him-not, upon im.

Length-not, lenth

And',-when I am forgotten', as I shall be',

And sleep in dull', cold marble', where no mention
Of me more must be heard of',--say', I taught thee';
Say', Wolsey', that once trod the ways of glory',
And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour',
Found thee a way', out of his wreck', to rise in';
A sure and safe one', though thy master'.. missed it'.
Mark but my fall', and that that ruined me'.
Cromwell', I charge thee', fling away ambition'.
By that sin fell the angels'. How can man'; then',
The image of his Maker', hope to win by it'?

Love thyself last': cherish those hearts that hate thee',
Corruption wins not more than honesty'!

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace',

To silence envious tongues'. Be just', and fear not!!

Let all the ends thou aim'st at', be thy country's',

Thy God's', and truth's': then', if thou fallest', O, Cromwell'
Thou fallest a blessed martyr'.