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And startled at the sight, like the weird
woman of Endor, Ye cry aloud, and then are still, O Bells
KILLED AT THE FORD.
He is dead, the heautiful youth,
Only last night, as we rode along,
*' Two red roses he had on his cap,
Sudden and swift a whistling ball Came out of a wood, and the voice was still;
Something I heard in the darkness fall, And for a moment my blood grew chill; I spake in a whisper, as he who speaks In a room where some one is lying dead; But he made 11o answer to what I said.
We lifted him up to his saddle again, And through the mire and the mist and the rain
Carried him back to the silent camp, And laid him as if asleep on his bed; And I saw by the light of the surgeon's lamp
Two white roses upon his cheeks,
And one, just over his heart, blood-red!
And I saw in a vision how far and fleet
Till it reached a house in a sunny street,
And the neighbors wondered that she should die.
How many lives, made beautiful and sweet
By self-devotion and by self-restraint, Whose pleasure is to run without
complaint On unknown errands of the Paraclete, Wanting the reverence of unshoddeU
Fail of the nimbus which the artists paint
Around the shining forehead of the saint,
And are in their completeness incomplete!
In the old Tuscan town stands Giotto's tower,
The lily of Florence blossoming in stone, —
A vision, a delight, and a desire, — The builder's perfect and centennial flower,
.That in the night of ages bloomed alone,
But wanting still the glory of the spire.
'T is late at night, and in the realm of sleep
My little lambs are folded like the flocks;
From room to room I hear the wakeful clocks
Challenge the passing hour, like guards that keep
Their solitary watch on tower and steep;
Far oil' I hear the crowing of the cocks,
And through the opening door that
time unlocks Feel the fresh breathing of To-morrow
To-morrow! the mysterious, unknown guest,
Who cries to me: "Remember Barmecide,
And tremble to be happy with the rest."
And I make answer: "lam satisfied; I dare not ask; I know not what is best;
God hath already said what shall betide."
Oft have I seen at some cathedral door A laborer, pausing in the dust and heat,
Lay down his burden, and with reverent feet
Enter, and cross himself, and on the floor
Kneel to repeat his paternoster o'er;
Far off the noises of the world retreat;
The loud vociferations of the street
Become an undistinguishable roar. So, as I enter here from day to day,
And leave my burden at this minster gate,
Kneeling in prayer, and not ashamed
The tumult of the time disconsolate
How strange the sculptures that adorn these towers! This crowd of statues, in whose folded sleeves
Birds build their nests ; while canopied
with leaves Parvis and portal bloom like trellised
And the vast minster seems a cross of flowers!
But fiends and dragons on the gar
goyled eaves Watch the dead Christ between the
living thieves, And, underneath, the traitor Judas
Ah! from what agonies of heart and brain,
What exultations trampling on despair,
What tenderness, what tears, what hate of wrong, What passionate outcry of a soul in pain, Uprose this poem of the earth and air, This mediaeval miracle of song!
I F.N'TF.R, and I see thee in the gloom
The air is filled with some unknown perfume;
The congregation of the dead make room For thee to pass; the votive tapers shine;
Like rooks that haunt Ravenna's
groves of pine The hovering echoes fly from tomb to
From the confessionals l hear arise
And then a voice celestial, that begins With the pathetic words, "Although your sins
As scarlet be," and ends with "as the snow."
With snow-white veil and garments as of flame,
She stands before thee, who so long ago
Filled thy young heart with passion and the woe
From which thy song and all its splendors came; And while with stern rebuke she speaks thy name,
The ice about thy heart melts as the snow
On mountain heights, and in swift overflow
Comes gushing from thy lips in sobs
Thou makest full confession ; and a gleam,
As of the dawn on some dark forest cast,
Seems on thy lifted forehead to increase;
Lethe and Eunoe — the remembered dream
And the forgotten sorrow — bring at last
That perfect pardon which is perfect peace.
I LIFT mine eyes, and all the windows blaze
With forms of saints and holy men
who died, Here martyred and hereafter glorified
And the great Rose upon its leaves displays
Christ's Triumph, and the angelic roundelays,
With splendor upon splendor multiplied;
And Beatrice again at Dante's side No more rebukes, but smiles her words of praise. And then the organ sounds, and unseen choirs
Sing the old Latin hymns of peace and love,
And benedictions of the Holy Ghost; And the melodious bells among the spires O'er all the house-tops and through
O Star of morning and of liberty! O bringer of the light, whose splendor shines
Above the darkness of the Apennines, Forerunner of the day that is to be! The voices of the city and the sea, The voices of the mountains and the pines,
Repeat thy song, till the familiar lines Are footpaths for the thought of Italy! Thy fame is blown abroad from all the heights,
Through all the nations, and a sound is heard,
As of a mighty wind, and men devout, Strangers of Rome, and the new proselytes,
In their own language hear thy wondrous word,
And many are amazed and many doubt.
ENVOYÉ X M. AGASSIZ, LA VEILLE DE
L'Académie en respect,
Quand les astres de Noël
Six gaillards, et chacun ivre, Chantaient gaîment dans le givre,
Ces illustres Pèlerins
Œil-de-Perdrix, grand farceur,
Verzenay le Champenois,
A côté marchait un vieux
Derrière eux un Jiordelais,
Avec ce beau cadet roux,
Mais le dernier de ces preux,
'' Ouvrez done, mon bon Seigneur, Ouvrez vite et n'ayez peur; Ouvrez, ouvrez, car nous sommes
Gens de bien et gentilshommes,
Chut, ganaches! taisez-vous!
The Citadel of Antiochus at Jerusalem.
Scene I. — Antiochus ; Jason.
Antiochus. O Antioch, my Antioch, my city!
Queen of the East! my solace, my delight!
The dowry of my sister Cleopatra When she was wed to Ptolemy, and now
Won back and made more wonderful by me!
I love thee, and I long to be once more Among the players and the dancing women
Within thy gates, and bathe in the Orontes,
Thy river and mine. O Jason, my
High-Priest, For I have made thee so, and thou art
Hast thou seen Antioch the Beautiful?
Jason. Never, my Lord.
Ant. Then hast thou never seen
The wonder of the world. This city of David
Compared with Antioch is but a village,
And its inhabitants compared with
Jason. They are barbarians,
Ant. They must be civilized.
They must be made to have more gods
than one; And goddesses besides.
Jason. They shall have more.
Ant. They must have hippodromes, and games, and baths, Stage-plays and festfvals, and most of all The Dionysia.
Jason. They shall have them all. Ant. By Heracles! but I should like to see
These Hebrews crowned with ivy, and arrayed
In skins of fawns, with drums and
flutes and thyrsi, Revel and riot through the solemn
Of their old town. Ha, ha! It makes me merry
Only to think of it !— Thou dost not laugh.
Jason. Yea, I laugh inwardly.
Ant. The new Greek leaven
Works slowly in this Israelitish dough! Have I not sacked the Temple, and on the altar
Set up the statue of Olympian Zeus
Ant. As thou wast Joshua once and
So shall this Hebrew nation be translated,
Their very natures and their names be
changed, And all be Hellenized.
Jason. It shall be done.
Ant. Their manners and their laws and way of living Shall all be Greek. They shall unlearn | their language,