92. Jonah
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{159}
"But Jonah rose up to flee unto Tarshish,
from the
presence
of the Lord." |
DEEP in his meditative bower, |
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The tranquil seer reclined; |
| Numbering the creepers of an hour, |
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The gourds which o'er him twined. |
To note each plant, to rear each fruit
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| Which soothes the languid sense, |
| He deem'd a safe, refined pursuit,— |
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His Lord, an indolence. |
The sudden voice was heard at length, |
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"Lift thou the prophet's rod!" |
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But sloth had sapp'd the prophet's strength,
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He fear'd, and fled from God. {160}
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Next, by a fearful judgment tamed,
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He threats the offending race;
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God spares;—he murmurs, pride-inflamed,
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His threat made void by grace.
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What?—pride and sloth! man's worst of foes!
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And can such guests invade
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Our choicest bliss, the green repose
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Of the sweet garden-shade?
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Off Sardinia.
June 18, 1833.
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