And through the gorgeous halls Rich odours filled the air, Sweet as the dew that falls On Araby the fair! All that could foster pride, All that could banish care, Was gathered by his side, And richly lavished there. Lost to the splendid show, The monarch's restless mind Darkened an anxious brow, Which furrows deep had lined. He rose and left the hall, The night was drear and wild-- Above the embattled wall Tempestuous clouds were piled. Deep in the deeper gloom, He held his sullen way-- To David's hallowed tomb To where his ashes lay. The haughty monarch came,-- Earth trembled at his tread-- With sacrilegious aim To rob the royal dead. No treasures found he there, Nor precious gems, nor gold-- The walls were damp and bare-- The region drear and cold. He cast his anxious eye Where slept great _David's_ son, Where _Wisdom's_ ashes lie, The peerless _Solomon_! He raised his ruthless arm Against the low-arched wall-- While wild and dread alarm Rang through the vaulted hall. Loud on the monarch's ear Broke the hoarse thunder's crash-- And blazed around the bier The vivid lightning's flash. Death came upon the blast; As by the lurid light They saw that he had passed, And triumphed in his might: For on the chilly ground, Inanimate as clay, The troubled monarch found His favourite captains lay. Aghast and pale he fled,-- And shook through every limb-- Cold drops rolled down his head, Lest death should follow him! He raised a marble fane Upon the hallowed spot, But ne'er, O ne'er again Could that night be forgot! And oft in after years He woke in wild affright, And wailed, with scalding tears, The deed of that dread night! WOMAN. BY WILLIAM LEGGETT. No star in yonder sky that shines Can light like woman's eye impart, The earth holds not in all its mines A gem so rich as woman's heart. Her voice is like the music sweet Poured out from airy harp alone, Like that when storms more loudly beat, It yields a clearer--richer tone. And woman's love's a holy light That brighter burns for aye, Years cannot dim its radiance bright, Nor even falsehood quench its ray. But like the star of Bethlehem Of old, to Israel's shepherds given, It marshals with its steady flame The erring soul of man to heaven. RHYME AND REASON. AN APOLOGUE. BY G. P. MORRIS. Two children, "once upon a time," In the summer season, Woke to life--the one was Rhyme, The other's name was Reason. Sweet Poesy enraptured prest The blooming infants to her breast. Reason's face and form to see Made her heart rejoice; Yet there was more of melody In Rhyme's delicious voice; But both were beautiful and fair, And pure as mountain stream and air.