MACHPELA H.

In these old heavens, like stars, whose rays no

age

Can dim, nor boastful art of man supplant, By lights, the invention of his fruitful skill. They lighted up the darkness of the ways By which our fathers walked in joy to heaven; Not now less needful nor less glad their beams. Part not with these old names and words, each

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one

Is as a seed, the womb of hidden life; And he that flings away a seed destroys The future harvest of a hundred fields. Part not with these old names; in each of them Our fathers wrapt up wisdom for their sons, And their sons' sons down to earth's latest day. What thoughts are clinging round them, thick as dew

Upon the fields of the fresh summer's grass, Mellow as fruit upon the autumn- trees!

Say not, our age is wiser; if it be, It is the wisdom which the past has given That makes it so; for in these names is written That wondrous wisdom that has made us wise

MACHPELAH.

ONLY a tomb, no more!

A rock- hewn sepulchre;­And this, and this is all that's thine, Fair Canaan's mighty heir!