For that fair breast was made the ivory palace
Of my inmost heart, where it shall lie at rest.
For sorrow is the lot of all of woman born:

For care was I brought forth, and labour is my lot: Nor matchless might, nor wisdom, nor every gift enjoyed,

Can from the heart of man hide sorrow.

Twice was my birth foretold from heaven, and twice

A sacred vow enjoined me that I should drink
No wine, nor eat of any unclean thing,

For holy unto Israel's God I am,

A Nazarite even from my mother's womb.

Twice was it told, that it might not be broken.

Grant me a son, kind Heaven,' Manoa cried;

But Heaven refused.

Childless he mourned, but thought his God knew best.

In solitude, though not obscure, in Israel

He lived, till venerable age came on:

His flocks increased, and plenty crowned his

board:

Beloved, revered of man.

F

But God hath other joys

In store. Is burdened Israel his grief?
The son of his old age shall set it free!
The venerable sweetener of his life

Receives the promise first from heaven. She saw
The maidens play, and blessed their innocent mirth;
She blessed each new-joined pair; but from her
The long-wished deliverer shall spring.

Pensive, alone she sat within the house,

When busy day was fading, and calm evening,

Time for contemplation, rose

From the forsaken east, and drew the curtains of heaven.

Pensive she sat, and thought on Israel's grief,
And silent prayed to Israel's God; when lo!

An angel from the fields of light entered the house.
His form was manhood in the prime,

And from his spacious brow shot terrors through the evening shade.

But mild he hailed her-' Hail, highly favoured!'

said he ;

'For lo! thou shalt conceive, and bear a son,

And Israel's strength shall be upon his shoulders, And he shall be called Israel's Deliverer.

Now, therefore, drink no wine, and eat not any

unclean thing,

For he shall be a Nazarite to God.'

Then, as a neighbour, when his evening tale is told, Departs, his blessing leaving, so seemed he to depart: She wondered with exceeding joy, nor knew he was an angel.

Manoa left his fields to sit in the house,

And take his evening's rest from labour

The sweetest time that God has allotted mortal

man.

He sat, and heard with joy,

And praised God, who Israel still doth keep.
The time rolled on, and Israel groaned oppressed.
The sword was bright, while the ploughshare rusted,
Till hope grew feeble, and was ready to give place
to doubting.

Then prayed Manoa :

'O Lord, thy flock is scattered on the hills— The wolf teareth them;

Oppression stretches his rod over our land;

Our country is ploughed with swords, and reaped in blood;

The echoes of slaughter reach from hill to hill ;
Instead of peaceful pipe the shepherd bears
A sword; the ox-goad is turned into a spear!
Oh, when shall our Deliverer come?

The Philistine riots on our flocks,

Our vintage is gathered by bands of enemies! Stretch forth thy hand and save.'-Thus prayed

Manoa.

The aged woman walked into the field,

And lo! again the angel came,

Clad as a traveller fresh risen on his journey.

She ran and called her husband, who came and talked with him.

'O man of God,' said he, 'thou com'st from far! Let us detain thee while I make ready a kid,

That thou mayst sit and eat, and tell us of thy name and warfare ;

That, when thy sayings come to pass, we may honour thee.'

The angel answered, 'My name is Wonderful ;
Inquire not after it, seeing it is a secret ;

But if thou wilt, offer an offering unto the Lord.""

O

THOU, to whose fury the nations are

But as dust maintain thy servant's right.

Without thine aid, the twisted mail, and spear,

And forged helm, and shield of seven-times beaten brass