And then there came a noble, swelling strain, Like the grand chorus of victorious hosts That still march on to victory; and he heard, And was a man, with men--a king of men, With crown of inspiration on his brow. Around him thronged the chiefs of Pethor-land And others, from afar, who came to hear The wisdom God had given to his lips. But he was still as humble as the child That played of yore amid the flowers, and drew From their sweet breath the beauty of the good. And as he spoke, they listened to his words As to an angel’s: for his words were wise, Wiser than all the wisdom of the East. Then came a discord, as a sound of waves That dash against tall rocks, while drowning men Try vainly to be heard. And Balaam grew Proud with the pride of vain and worldly men, And thought within his heart how great he was, Forgetting who had made him wise and great; And thought of all the homage and the gifts Yielded to him by princes of all lands, Till his heart turned to evil more than good. Then came a sound of battle and wild cries, The blare of trumpets, and the clash of swords, And the fierce neigh of war-steeds, and the groans Of dying men,--and Balaam lay with these, Far from the hills and streams of Pethor-land. And, as he lay, he heard an awful voice, High o’er the din of battle, and the words, “If these men call thee, Balaam, rise and go.” And Balaam woke; and on the Eastern hills Beheld the ruddy blossom of the day Bursting from out the sapphire of the sky; And all the earth looked pure as when it rose, At first, in beauty, from the primal sea, And all the heavenly hosts sang songs of joy. But still the night lingered in Balaam’s soul, And all the pleasant voices of the morn, With which, erstwhile, he joined in hymns of praise, Were buried, as all hues are lost in black, In the dark horrors of one fatal cry, “If these men call thee, Balaam, rise and go.” And fainter was the whisper than before, And Balaam heard it not, or heeded not, As with slow steps--as one who walks in chains-- And head bowed low upon his breast, he moved Homeward to where the princes waited him. And Balaam told them not of sign or dream, But only made him ready for the road. And ere the sun was half-way up the sky, Both he and they were far upon the waste That stretched towards Moab,--and he nevermore Beheld the hills and streams of Pethor-land. GOOD NIGHT. I.