Class _EE4=^^aa 
 
WEITINGS 
 
 SPIEITUAL, MOEAL AND POETIC 
 
 BY 
 
 E C. DUTT. 
 
 '< Our senses can grasp nothing that is in extreme. Too much noise deafens 
 us ; too great light blinds us ; too great a distance or too much proximity equaUy 
 prevents us from being able to see ; too long and too short a discourse obscures 
 our knowledge of a subject; too much of truth stuns us.'' 
 
 "Song is but the eloquence of truth."— Campbell. 
 
 Pascal. 
 
 PRINTED BY P. S, D'rOZARIO AND CO,, 12, WATERLOO STREET, 
 
 1878. 
 
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PREFACE. 
 
 Addison has remarked " that a reader seldom peruses a 
 book with pleasure till he knows whether the writer of it be a 
 black or a fair man, of a mild or choleric disposition, married 
 or a bachelor," and so forth. It had better be stated then, 
 by way of preface, that the author of this book is a Bengali 
 Convert, educated at the old Hindu College. Amid dis- 
 advantages from sickness, he has had some time to devote to 
 literary occupations. lie has a family, several children, a 1^ 
 from the Old Stock of Hinduism, but who hav^ by God's 
 blessing escaped its trammels and are with him in the faith 
 to which he has been called. 
 
 Eambagan Cottage ; 1 
 172, ManichtoUa Street, ) 
 
INDEX. 
 
 DISCOURSES, &c. 
 
 The Wisdom of Babedom 
 
 Eesurrectiou 
 
 St. Paul 
 
 Euth 
 
 Jonah 
 
 Flowers 
 
 Theocracy 
 
 The Character of Christ... 
 
 Atonement 
 
 The Jurisdiction of Science 
 
 Christ set forth 
 
 George D'Amboise 
 
 POEMS.— RELIGIOUS 
 
 Ahab .*. 
 
 Worship 
 
 Lines 
 
 John X. 14 
 
 1 John IV. 16 
 
 Fear not 
 
 The Dream of Athalie 
 
 Small things 
 
 The Inscription 
 
 To " Arcydae" 
 
 The New Year 
 
 • • ••• 
 
 Page. 
 . 1 
 . 6 
 . 12 
 . 18 
 24 
 29 
 34 
 40 
 45 
 50 
 55 
 60 
 
 75 
 
 92 
 
 93 
 
 95 
 
 96 
 
 97 
 
 98 
 
 100 
 
 101 
 
 102 
 
 104 
 
VI 
 
 Page, 
 Epiphany 105 
 
 Hymn — Good Friday 106 
 
 A Carol IO7 
 
 Sweet Eeplies . 
 Easter ... . 
 Ascension 
 Verses 
 
 108 
 
 109 
 
 110 
 
 Ill 
 
 A Colloquy with the Evening Star 112 
 
 Millenial Hymn 113 
 
 To Macleod Wylie, 'Esq., 114 
 
 To my boy 10 years old 115 
 
 To my Children 116 
 
 Child's Morning Hymn ... 117 
 
 Child's Evening Hymn 118 
 
 Hymn ... 119 
 
 Hymn 120 
 
 Hymn 121 
 
 Xmas 122 
 
 Hymn 123 
 
 Two Thoughts 124 
 
 't)^ 
 
 The Church .., ib. 
 
 POEMS.— INDIAN. 
 
 Introduction 127 
 
 The Magic Fawn 131 
 
 Mandodari 137 
 
 Jatayu 139 
 
 The Aerial Journey of Rama and his Consort 141 
 
 The Bridal of Draupadee 145 
 
 Autumn 153 
 
Vll 
 
 Page. 
 
 Caiiva's Hermitage 156 
 
 The Tomb of Sultan Baber 158 
 
 The Flight of Humaoon 160 
 
 Humaoon's Re-entry 164 
 
 The Death of Himu ... 166 
 
 Akbar's Dying Charge, 169 
 
 Noor Mahil, 171 
 
 Lodi, 174 
 
 The Taj 177 
 
 Aurungzebe at his Father's bier 179 
 
 The Rakhi 182 
 
 Tarra Baee .- 183 
 
 The Capture of Torna 185 
 
 POEMS.— MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Glimpses 189 
 
 Roses 191 
 
 Lines "192 
 
 Those Cinnamon Trees 193 
 
 Night 195 
 
 Ruins 196 
 
 Sonnets 198 to 200 
 
 A Sigh for Winter 201 
 
 Toil 203 
 
 Fancy Pigeons 205 
 
 The Two Flowers 207 
 
 The Two Asses ... _ 208 
 
 The Two Books 209 
 
 Appendix 211 
 
DISCOURSES, 
 
 &c. 
 
 ^\t fflisbom of lahbottt 
 
 At that time Jesus answered and said, I thank thee Father, 
 Lord of heaven and earth, because thou hast hid these 
 things from the wise and prudent, and hast revealed them 
 unto babes. Even so Father for so it seemed good in thy 
 sight. — Matthew 11. (25-26.) 
 
 The divine origin of Christianity is the most remarkable 
 feature which distinguishes it from all other religions in the 
 world. Comparing it with Vedantism and Puranism, the 
 monotheistic and polytheistic religions of India, or with the 
 religions of ancient Greece, Rome or Egypt, this diflference is 
 clearly discernible. In the one case it is a subjective effort 
 of the human mind, in the other an objective reality — in 
 the one case man has attempted to trace God in his handi- 
 work or to invent divinities for homage and adoration, in 
 the other God has spoken through the prophets, through 
 Christ, and through Hi§ Spirit— in the one case there has 
 
( 2 ) 
 
 been "working from below upwards," in the other light 
 has proceeded from above — at first a beautiful dawn, then 
 brighter radiance and meridian splendour ! Nor have visible 
 manifestations of the Almigh tines s of God been wanting. 
 Olympus and its inhabitants, Kailasa and its divinities, sink 
 into utter nothingness before the glories of Zion. Even where 
 men have been ,able to feel after God by efforts or processes 
 of intellect, the light has served only to make ^^ darkness 
 visible." The book of Nature is a book of hieroglyphics. 
 It is symbolical of higher and purer things in the back- 
 ground. Observe again the mystery of life. Its cabalistic 
 characters cannot be deciphered, except by light from on 
 high. What am I ? why created ? whither destined ? 
 "Whence these joys and sorrows, hopes, aspirations, longings ? 
 Apply the lamp of Divine Truth to the subject, and it 
 breaks and dissolves into a thousand variegated flowers fit 
 only for the lawns and groves of Paradise. 
 
 The passage quoted above shows most forcibly our Lord's 
 estimate of worldly wisdom, worldly foresight, in short, 
 of worldly culture. The same idea under a somewhat dif- 
 ferent modification is also traceable in St. Paul's Epistle 
 to the Corinthians. "For it is written I will destroy the 
 wisdom of the wise and will bring to nothing the understand- 
 ing of the prudent. Where is the wise ? Where is the scribe ? 
 Where is the disputer of this world ? For after that in the 
 wisdom of God, the world by wisdom knew not God, it 
 pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save them that 
 believe." It will thus be seen that the Bible estimate of 
 human culture is exceedingly low. Divine and miraculous 
 in its origin it repudiates all but divine and miraculous 
 agencies in the conversion of souls. There i^ no doubt that 
 
( 3 ) 
 
 the world is striving for perfection, not by a spiritual regene- 
 ration from on high but by intellectual culture and aggran- 
 disement, which is essentially only a repetition of the prin- 
 ciple announced by the Serpent in Paradise— Man is to 
 attain of himself without God's special help and favor, to 
 the highest knowledge and thereby to equality with God. 
 This principle found its ' colossal manifestation' in the tower 
 of Babel, and is exemplified in the heathen nations of anti- 
 quity, in their sculptures, their paintings, their philosophy 
 and poetry, when compared with the Jews. Herein also 
 consists the great error of our times that culture or education 
 is thought to be the highest thing, the panacea for all evils, 
 and is looked upon as a substitute for divine grace, for reno- 
 vation by the Spirit of the living God. 
 
 Let us, therefore, in an humble and childlike spirit con- 
 tinue to ask of God for a fuller appreciation of His revealed 
 will, to say " open Thou our eyes and we shall behold won- 
 drous things out of Thy law." The life in God forms no 
 part of the present world-course. ^' The fashion of this 
 world passeth away." Not that culture if properly directed 
 cannot be made subservient to the glory of God and good 
 of man, not that education is to be neglected or despised, 
 not that civilization ^er se is anything wicked or sinful, but 
 they are not what the world makes them to be — our highest 
 good, or even the vehicles or media of that highest good. 
 This will be abundantly evident from our Lord's words 
 quoted as text. 
 
 Among the apostles, Paul was the only one who could 
 lay claim to culture or erudition. A reader of the Greek 
 drama and practised in the mental gymnastics which could 
 then be learnt only within the circle of Greek philosophy, 
 
( 4 ) 
 
 dialectics and rhetoric, and having also a knowledge of 
 sculpture and painting, he certainly was different from the 
 other Galilean teachers but for the unity and simplicity in 
 Christ, which made them all one, and for which he counted 
 all other things ^' as dung." We know also that his erudi- 
 tion had nothing to do with his conversion, which was by 
 special miraculous means. So that the truth enunciated 
 holds good. Would it not be a blessed day if the world con- 
 tained more men like the primitive apostles, the poor un- 
 learned fishermen of Galilee ? 
 
 The renovation of the earth will never be brought about 
 by any mere human means, nor can we say except from Holy 
 writ, what convulsions and throes will attend the disruption 
 of the old, and the inauguration of the new order of things. 
 Looking into the pages of history we see successive civiliza- 
 tions rise, culminate, and sink into everlasting gloom. As- 
 syria, Nineveh, Babylon, Egypt, Greece, and Eome had each 
 its boasted day of natural progress, but like the lost Pleiads 
 are now no more. The last was the mistress of the then 
 known world. The Eoman eagle was the terror of the na- 
 tions. Wherever it alighted and clapped its wings, it con- 
 quered. But alas ! it dropped its feathers and lost the bright- 
 ness of its piercing eyes, and was trampled upon by barbarian 
 hordes. India too had its days of intellectual excellence. 
 The beauty of its ancient literature, the depth and subtlety 
 of its ancient philosophy are abundant evidence of this fact. 
 Humanity unaided by a renovating process from on high must 
 needs degenerate and decline. As it is with individual souls, 
 so is it with nations. The true preservative is the grace of 
 God, the simplicity as it is in Christ Jesus. 
 
 There ig but one path then to the acquisition of divine 
 
( 5 ) 
 
 truth, to stability, glory, immortality. ^^ If any man will 
 become wise let him become a fool." To unlearn all wisdom 
 is the highest wisdom. To those who pride themselves upon 
 their knowledge and reason, I would say that you must come 
 down from the pedestal of self-righteousness upon which you 
 have placed yourselves and must relinquish the self-sufficiency 
 of your own ways. You must enter in by the same gate as 
 the unlearned, the simple, and the ignorant. You must 
 listen with reverent attention to the inspired Oracles of God. 
 You must sit at the feet of Jesus and learn. And surely it 
 is no humiliation to learn from Him who is the Lord of 
 Glory and Chief among ten thousand ! It requires only a child- 
 like spirit to be able to discern the depth and simplicity of 
 these words of Scripture, " God hath chosen the foolish things 
 of the world to confound the wise, and God hath chosen the weak 
 things of the world to confound the things which are mighty, 
 and base things of the world and things which are des- 
 pised, yea, and things which are not to bring to nought 
 things that are : that no flesh should glory in his presence." 
 Lastly, let us for a few moments direct our attention to 
 that beautiful scene in the temple at Jerusalem described 
 by St. Matthew, where, when the chief priests and scribes 
 saw the miracles wrought by the great Healer and heard 
 the children crying out " Hosanna to the son of David," 
 they were enraged. Their superior culture and erudition 
 could not bear it. With what benignity are they put to 
 shame ! When asked in derision ^' Hearest thou what the 
 children say," he replies out of the writings of the same 
 David whom they acknowledge as prophet and king ! — ^^ yea, 
 have ye never read, out of the mouth of babes and suck- 
 lings thou hast perfected praise." May we now and at all 
 
( 6 ) 
 
 times be able to join in that infant chorus first raised iu 
 the temple at Jerusalem : 
 
 *' Hosanna to the living Lord, 
 Hosanna to the Incarnate word ; 
 To Christ, Creator, Saviour, King, 
 Let earth, let Heaven Hosanna sing. 
 
 Hosanna ! Lord ! Hosanna in the highest ! 
 
 Hosanna ! Lord ! Thine angels cry, 
 Hosanna ! Lord ! Thy saints reply ; 
 Above, beneath us, and around, 
 The dead and living swell the sound. 
 
 Hosanna !Lord ! Hosanna in the highest I 
 
 So in the last and dreadful day, 
 When earth and heaven shall melt away ; 
 Tliy flock redeemed from sinful stain, 
 Shall swell the sound of praise again. 
 
 Hosanna ! Lord ! Hosanna in the highest T* 
 
 Resurrection. 
 
 It is sown a natural ; it is raised a spiritual hody, — 
 
 1 Cor. 15. (44 ) 
 
 There are innumerable hidden forces in Nature about which 
 we understand little or nothing. We know of the existence 
 of such forces, we daily witness their operations, we charac- 
 terise them by distinguishing names, but the ivhy and 
 iclierefore is and will perhaps ever remain a mystery. The 
 attractions of cohesion and gravitation, the polarity of the 
 
( 7 ) 
 
 needle and the law of germination are instances of this. 
 Little do we know when out on our summer-evening's stroll 
 why the particles of earth under our feet cohere and bear 
 us up. Little do youths engaged in pleasant pastime know 
 ivhy the ball flung up high into the air returns to the earth. 
 Little does the mariner know why under a beclouded sky 
 and ever roaring waters the small instrument before him is 
 true to the invisible Cynosure. Little does the sower know 
 why in a few days the scattered seed springs up into green 
 and tender blades glistening with the dews of heaven. 
 Nature has also its hidden treasures. In this wonder-teem- 
 ing world the commonest things often yield the richest 
 and noblest results. The silkworm ejects from its bowels 
 materials for costly raiment, the juice of the grape so insig- 
 nificant in size and so plentiful in the. temperate regions 
 affords beverages which have been compared by poets to the 
 nectar of the gods, nay, the chemical constituents of coal are 
 identical with those of the brightest diamond which ever graced 
 a monarch's diadem. All the mineral wealth of the world, the 
 pearls imbedded in the Ocean in their shell-covers, are 
 intrinsically no better than lumps of clod, and do not assume 
 a value till they have passed into man's hand. Nor are the 
 hidden beauties of Nature less remarkable. How capti- 
 vating is a ray of light passed through a prism. What 
 variety, what richness, what exuberance of coloring ! The 
 telescope and the microscope disclose unseen beauties. In 
 the common house-fly what fascinating green and gold, and in 
 that dimly descried track in the skies, the milky way, what a 
 galaxy of stars glowing with heaven's own efi*ulgence. Na- 
 ture is an Eastern potentate, and has his hidden forces, his 
 hidden treasures, and his hidden seraglio of beauties. 
 
( 8 ) 
 
 What wonder then if this frail tenement of ours raised 
 out of the dust, and returning to the dust, should contain 
 the germs of an immortal and glorious body to be evolved 
 when the Sun of Righteousness shall arise with healing on 
 its wings. What wonder if God in His infinite wisdom 
 has thought fit to disclose this truth by Revelation from on 
 high and not by the ordinary processes of intellectual 
 generalization. That this has been the case will be mani- 
 fest from a glance at all other religions. None of the an- 
 cient religions speak of the doctrine of the Resurrection 
 of the body. Hinduism, which seems to have been the 
 origin of every other form of superstitious belief, and which 
 in its wide-spread and elaborate ramifications may be 
 compared to the banian of Indian growth, exhibits passages 
 in its sacred books which may be construed as allusions 
 to it, but nowhere except in the Bible is it prominently 
 foreshadowed as a doctrine. In the following passage 
 from the Bhagvat Geeta, or Dialogues between Krishna 
 and Arjun, one of the most esteemed of the sacred 
 books of the Hindus, a faint glimmering of this truth 
 is discernible : *^ As a man throweth away old garments and 
 putteth on new, even so the soul having quitted its old 
 mortal frame entereth into others which are new. The wea- 
 pon divideth it not, the fire burneth it not, the water cor- 
 rupteth it not, the wind drieth it not away, for it is indivisi- 
 ble, inconsumable, incorruptible, and is not to be dried away, 
 it is eternal, universal, permanent, immoveable, it is invisible, 
 inconceivable, and unalterable, therefore believing it to be thus, 
 thou shouldest not grieve, but whether thou belie vest it of 
 eternal truth and duration, or that it dieth with the body, still 
 thou hast no cause to lament it. Death ig certain to all things 
 
( 9 ) 
 
 which are subject to birth and regeneration to all things 
 which are mortal'' Again in the Yajur Ved, " The pure 
 enlightened soul assumes a luminous form with no gross body, 
 with no perforation, with no veins or tendons, unblemished, 
 untainted by sin, itself being a ray from the infinite spirit, 
 which knows the past and the future, which pervades all, 
 which existed with no cause but itself, which created all 
 things as they are in ages very remote." 
 
 The fanciful doctrine of transmigrations seems to occupy 
 the same place in the Hindu economy of Redemption that 
 Resurrection occupies in the Christian, According to Menu, 
 the slayer of a Brahmin must enter, according to the circum- 
 stances of his crime, the body of a dog, a boar, an ass, a 
 camel, a bull, a goat, a sheep, a stag, a bird ; a priest fond 
 of drinking shall migrate into the form of a smaller or larger 
 worm or insect, of a moth, of a fly, or of some ravenous 
 animal. He who steals the gold of a priest, shall pass a 
 thousand times into the bodies of spiders, of snakes, and 
 chameleons, of crocodiles, and other aquatic monsters or of 
 mischievous blood-sucking demons. They who hurt any 
 sentient beings are born cats and other eaters of raw flesh ; 
 they who taste interdicted food, maggots or small flies ; they 
 who steal grain, a rat ; they who steal perfumes, a muskrat ; 
 they who steal fruits, an ape ; and so on. As far as human 
 souls will indulge and wallow in sensuality and forbidden 
 pleasures, so far, according to Menu, will the acuteness of 
 their senses be raised in their future bodies that they may 
 endure analogous pains. This is by no means dissimilar 
 to the opinion of Socrates as represented by Plato. *^ When 
 the soul soiled and impure quits the body having during its 
 earthly life lived only for sensual things, having been kept 
 
( 10 ) 
 
 fascinated by material things, but having hated and repulsed 
 the invisible and supernatural things, do you think that such 
 a soul will depart entirely pure and free ? By no means ; 
 for penetrated by the material and carrying it with it as a 
 burden, as something earthly and visible, it will be depressed, 
 and again drawn towards the region of visible things, fear- 
 ing the invisible world and hades." 
 
 Spring is the emblem of Kesurrection. But the glories 
 of a full-blown spring are not to be seen in this land. 
 They are fleeting and evanescent in the extreme. Our own 
 Kalidasa divides the year into six seasons and not four, as 
 the English poets divide it. Beautiful as is Kalidasa's des- 
 cription of spring, the idea that it is the emblem of Re- 
 surrection is entirely absent. The breeze laden with per- 
 fumes, moving softly over the flower-enamelled lake, the 
 koil and the bee, the blossoming mangoe-groves are beau- 
 tifully described, but the hidden meaning of spring does 
 not seem to have been appreciated. 
 
 *' But when the blood chills and the years go by, 
 As we resemble Autumn more, the more 
 We love the Resurrection-time of spring ; 
 And spring is now around me. Snow-di'ops come, 
 Sad sweet memorials of a man I loved, 
 The crocus gleams along the garden walk, 
 And from the tree top sings the speckled thrush ; 
 Within the flying sunlights twinkling troops 
 Of chaffinches jerk here and there, beneath 
 The shrubbery the blackbird runs, then flits 
 With chattering cry, and at the ploughman's heel 
 Within the red-drawn furrow stalks the rook." 
 
 The seed sown in the furrows of God's acre, will one 
 day shoot up into the Ught and life of an eternal spring. 
 
 Another illustrative analogy of the Resurrection — not the 
 less beautiful because it ig trite — is to be seen in the 
 
( 11 ) 
 
 butterfly. It is only after the crawling worm has been 
 entombed that it rises up into the sunlight of a new and 
 glorified existence. Can any one say by what process the 
 Divine Alchemist out of the dust formed the body of Adam 
 compared to which our present bodies are emphatically vile. 
 Cannot He, out of the wrecks of that Adamic body, form 
 another more glorious than the first, one like unto his own ? 
 Is not this, in accordance with all God's dealings with 
 man, viewing it even as a spiritual truth ? The most un- 
 promising materials, such as men think fit to be swept 
 away, may in God's hand be converted into the pure 
 gold of the Temple, into jewels of surpassing loveliness. 
 Witness the case of St. Paul and of Mary Magdalene 
 and of hundreds of God's people in ancient and modem 
 times. "Though ye have lien among the pots, ye shall 
 yet be as the wings of a dove covered with silver and her 
 feathers with yellow gold." 
 
 And now conceive how vast the number of glorified 
 bodies which shall surround the Great White Throne of 
 the Eternal on the Kesurrection-morn, a countless multi- 
 tude out of every tongue and clime and nation. Conceive 
 all the host of heaven, the angels, and arch-angels, the 
 cherubims and seraphims crying holy ! holy ! holy ! Conceive 
 the hyaline pavement which John saw in vision stretching 
 far away into shining distance before the throne of God ! 
 Conceive countless golden harps all attuned to sound praises 
 to God and to the Lamb ! Behind, before, on every side, 
 in native and reflected blaze, chariots of fire and horses of 
 fire ! And then the trump of wondrous melody never heard 
 before, proceeding out of the royal city New Jerusalem, 
 whose light is like unto a ^tone most precioug even like a 
 
( 12 ) 
 
 jasperstone clear as crystal ! And in the midst of all these 
 glories He who by becoming flesh of our flesh and bone of 
 cm- bone has wrought all this transfiguration, one like unto 
 the Son of Man ! 
 
 Si. laul. 
 
 lam crucified with Christy nevertheless I live. — Gal4lTIANS 2. (20.) 
 
 Perhaps the substrata which underlie the characters of 
 God's hero and the world's hero are not so dissimilar as 
 people imagine, and the contrast lies only in the motives' or 
 springs of action. For about six thousand years the world 
 ha^ been huzzaing every undetected pilferer, every successful 
 cut-throat, and will continue to do so to the end of time. 
 But the brass which the world so admires is transmutable 
 into pure gold by one touch of that substance which alchemists 
 seek in vain and which God gives, but for the asking, in the 
 shape of a ray of heavenly light. Napoleon the Great 
 would still have been great, but in a different sense, if he had 
 enlisted in the ranks of God's soldiery and been faithful. 
 His courage, his education, the force and quickness of his 
 intellect, the devotion of all his energies to his cherished 
 object, his knowledge of human nature, and his power of 
 swaying men according to his will, would all have been turn- 
 ed to the happiest account, Hig bloody victories would 
 
( 13 ) 
 
 have been victories of faith — instead of leading multitudinous 
 hosts to destruction, he would have led out multitudes of 
 souls to life everlasting ; instead of plans to subjugate the 
 nations of Europe, he would have planned attacks against 
 the powers of darkness ; instead of waging war with hu- 
 manity, he would have waged war with the evils which 
 besiege it, with its errors, its follies, and its crimes. Not 
 with a sword of steel, but with a sword forged in the armoury 
 of heaven would he have fought his battles ; not an earthly 
 diadem but for him would have been laid up ^^ a crown of 
 glory," And when the shadows of death were closing around 
 him, not a vision of sublunary grandeur as betrayed in the 
 words " tete d'armee," but a sure hope of an eternal morning, 
 and a name registered among the noble army of martyrs ! O 
 soldier of Christ ! watch well the motives and springs of 
 action : for out of these are the issues of life. What 
 similarity and contrast in the characters of Napoleon sur- 
 named ^^ great," and Paul which signifies 'kittle" ! 
 
 It would be useless to attempt anything like an essay 
 on the life and writings of St. Paul within the limits which 
 we have assigned to each of these discourses. So rich in 
 doctrine the latter, and so various and interesting the inci- 
 dents in the former that volumes would not suffice, supposing 
 we had the requisite ability. Merging the abstract into the 
 concrete, we shall here present only a few passages from the 
 life of the man whom we have styled *^ God's hero." 
 
 Paul educated at the feet of Gamaliel, Paul the Pharisee, 
 Paul the Persecutor, was indeed difi'erent from Paul the 
 converted, Paul the man of faith, and Paul who wrote, 
 '^I am crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live." Frail 
 in body he seems always to have been, but the fiery spirit, 
 
( 14 ) 
 
 working out its way in a wrong channel, was aiTested by 
 grace and brought to the feet of the Saviour. By pro- 
 fession he was a tent-maker. Raphael has painted him 
 weak and infirm, and Luther thought him '^ a poor, lean, 
 little man like master Philip" (Melancthon). GamalieFs 
 teaching, however, was not the limit of Paul's education. 
 His native town Tarsus was celebrated for its zeal for 
 philosophy and other branches of knowledge, and here he 
 seems to have diligently studied the Greek poets and phi- 
 losophers. He inherited from his father the privileges of 
 a Eoman citizen, and while engaged in such studies, and 
 while the prophet's cry was being echoed and re-echoed in the 
 surrounding gloom, "Watchman what of the night?" the 
 morning had already broken over the walls of the temple at 
 Jerusalem. From his youth he seems to have been a lover 
 of Nature, and the fruitful plains at the foot of the Taurus, 
 and the jessamine and oleander shrubs 'on the banks of the 
 Cydnus must to him have been delights. But the hidden 
 meaning of Nature he had yet to see through " the true light." 
 
 *^ Touching the righteouness which is in the law blameless." 
 To keep the faith (not knowing at the time what faith is) 
 and induce others to do so till Messiah should appear 
 (that day of Israel's triumph over all her enemies) 
 was the desperate struggle of his mind. A work, a legal 
 virtue, the due respect and literal observance of all God-ap- 
 pointed institutions and ordinances, circumcision, the pass- 
 over, the reading of the law and the prophets — these were 
 then his ideas of faith. But the time was coming when they 
 were to be swept away for ever, as filthy rags, making room 
 for ^' the righteousness of God in Christ." 
 
 The scene, at the murder of the proto-martyr Stephen, 
 
( 15 ) 
 
 is one of the most remarkable in that great life-drama, so 
 full of incidents and adventure. It is described first in the 
 Acts, and the history of Paul unfolds itself from that start- 
 ing point, partly from the accounts given of him by Luke, 
 but principally from his own speeches and epistles. The 
 words " the witnesses laid down their clothes at a young 
 man's feet whose name was Saul," and *^ Saul was consent- 
 ing unto his death," are sufficient to indicate to the careful 
 discerner of character that the young zealot was the heart 
 and soul of the awful business. The celebrated Spanish 
 painter Vicente Joannes has represented Paul as walking at 
 the martyr's side, lost in profound meditation, in striking 
 contrast with the wild rabble — fervent devotion is seen on his 
 face, and on his brow gleams a ray of light from Stephen's 
 face, which ray he is attempting strenuously to ward off. 
 This is just before the martyrdom scene, when certain of the 
 synagogue, which is called the synagogue of the Libertines 
 and Cyrenians and Alexandrians, set up false witnesses 
 against Stephen, who said, " this man ceaseth not to speak 
 blasphemous words against this holy place and the Law, and 
 all that looked steadfastly on him, saw his face as it had been 
 the face of an angel." 
 
 High noon on the plains of Damascus. Naked and slaty 
 rocks bounded the horizon. The domes and minarets of 
 the sacred city rose from amid super-abounding vegetation, 
 nature revelling in beautiful luxuriance, the tasseled garni- 
 ture of eastern climes. The palm and the cypress, the or- 
 ange and the citron, drooped in the noon-day heat, and a 
 rich perfume exhaled from beds of flowers. The streamlets 
 laughed in the sunlight. But neither the beauty of the 
 scene, nor the glad sunlight could dispel the gloom which 
 
( 16 ) 
 
 sat on the brow and in the heart of the horseman, who, with 
 his retinue, was approaching the city. God had his own 
 purposes. The ^^ chosen vessel" would attract light from 
 heaven. Down, down he falls bewildered and stunned. The 
 Light, the Lord Jesus, brighter than the sun at noonday, 
 has sinned into his heart, has blinded his eyes so set on 
 destruction, has made Paul ^ breathing out threatening and 
 slaughter' into the obedient and willing slave of the Lord 
 Jesus. ^^Paul — Paul, why persecutest thou Me!" Thus, 
 indeed, did the Lord honour His church, making it one with 
 Himself in time and eternity. 
 
 Next, let us see Paul 'in bonds' — in bonds but no 
 bondman, for Christ had made him free. Slave to God 
 and not to man. '^ My yoke is easy and My burden is 
 light." Kejoicing in his chains in so far as they furnish- 
 ed occasion to preach ' Christ crucified,' fearless alike of 
 the pains and penalties which his conduct might entail, 
 filled with a sanctified fervor and joy, the uncompromising 
 spirit of the Benjamite stirred up within him in the cause 
 of his Lord and Master, he had occasion to give vent at 
 Caesarea, to those outbursts of holy eloquence which will 
 ever remain unrivalled. The loving kindness of that 
 Master he had signally experienced. Brought out of the 
 darkness of the Law into the full effulgence of Gospel- 
 light in a miraculous manner, and feeling that God is 
 Love and God is Light, he was indeed ' a spectacle unto 
 angels and to men' in strange contrast to the figures which 
 surrounded him, his enemies, accusers, and judges, to the 
 high priest Ananias who directed the mob to smite him on 
 the mouth, to Claudius Lysias, the chief captain with a dash 
 of boldness, but yet with a due respect for constituted 
 
( 17 ) 
 
 authority, to the orator Tertullus with his address and vohi- 
 bility, to the mercenary Felix and his petted Drusilla, to the 
 dignified Pestus, to Herod Agrippa, the last Jewish King in 
 his robes of royalty and to the fascinating but immoral 
 Bernice. Before a brilHant assembly Paul closed his series 
 of apostoHc defences. ^^ Having, therefore, obtained help of 
 God, I continue unto this day witnessing both to small and 
 great, saying none other things than those which the prophets 
 and Moses did say should come, that Christ should suffer, 
 and that He should be the first that should rise from the 
 dead, and should shew light unto the people and to the 
 gentiles." Thus did he again proclaim the crucified Jesus, 
 as the ^' light of the gentiles" ! Interrupted by Festus 
 with the half sarcastic and half respectful remark ^^ Paul 
 thou art beside thyself, much learning doth make thee 
 mad," he dexterously parries the thrust by an appeal to 
 the Judaism of King Herod, to the Law and to the testi- 
 mony of the prophets. And when the King after listen- 
 ing with rapt attention says, " Almost thou persuadest me 
 to be a Christian," the well-springs of love in Paul's 
 heart bubble up and he pronounces a benediction on all 
 present with the concluding words ^^ except these bonds"! 
 
 About Paul's voyage to Italy and the events which fol- 
 lowed, we have no room to speak. How, though a pri- 
 soner, he tamed a mutinous crew, how the wind called 
 Euroclydon arose baffling the skill of all on board, how 
 he turned sailor, how he stepped forth amid the despairing 
 and cheered them with the assurance of safety which the 
 angel of God had given unto him, how the shipwrecked 
 party came to know their deliverer as one who had ' power 
 to tread on serpents,' how he entered Rome and addressed 
 
( IS ) 
 
 some beautiful epistles from that place, must all remain 
 untold. Sufficient has been said to shew what a man, what 
 a hero, what a Christian, he was. To live unto Christ in all 
 things was his glory, and to present every man perfect in 
 Christ Jesus, the aim of his renewed life. Such was the 
 man who in weariness and painfulness, in perils of robbers, 
 in perils of waters, in perils of wild beasts, in stripes and in 
 imprisonment, had something to uphold him which no one 
 could take away. Such was St* Paul, true son of Benjamin, 
 honor of Israel, who was ^' all things unto all men" ! 
 
 And now may God make each soldier of Christ like unto 
 this Hebrew of Hebrews, granting him an equal measure of 
 faith and hope and love ! 
 
 utfe. 
 
 And Orpah kissed her mother-in-law^ hut Ruth clave unto her. — • 
 
 Ruth 1. (14.) 
 
 O BEAR delectable Ruth ! Can we ever forget thee ? Thirfy 
 centuries and more have elapsed since thou gleanedst on the 
 fields near Bethlehem-judah in the beginning of barley-har- 
 vest, and yet thy love and thy beauty exercise their fascinat- 
 ing influence on all who read thy story, are the delight of the 
 
( 19 ) 
 
 old and the young, the model for women, and the theme and 
 inspiration of the poet ! 
 
 *' She stood breast-high amid the corn, 
 Clasped by the golden light of morn, 
 Like the sweet-heart of the sun 
 Who many a glowing kiss had won. 
 
 On her cheek, an autumn flush 
 Deeply ripened ; — such a blush 
 In the midst of brown was born, 
 Like red poppies grown with corn. 
 
 Round her eyes her tresses fell, 
 Which were blackest, none could tell, 
 But long lashes veil'd a light 
 That had else been all too bright. 
 
 Thus she stood amid the stooks 
 Praising Grod with sweetest looks." 
 
 The history of Ruth, the Moabitess, is not only delight- 
 ful reading, but is full of consoling edification. Here we 
 have a foreshadowing of the " Old Old story" in all its 
 simplicity and beauty, not in a parable, fable, myth, or 
 allegory, but in the lives of human beings. The inci- 
 dents are not only true to nature, true to Revelation, but 
 are true as facts, and as such possess an additional in- 
 terest and value. We find here those peculiar sensibili- 
 ties, that tenderness and that affectionate self-devotion 
 which characterise woman in the East, and which the 
 education and the independence so highly extolled in our 
 day seem to be wearing off. We find how piety, duty, 
 and love may overcome trials and difficulties, which but 
 for them would appear insuperable. We find how happiness 
 
 flows from a reliance on God even under the most adverse 
 circumstances. We find how, having wandered away, a person 
 
 may yet return to God who is ever ready to welcome and to 
 
( 20 ) 
 
 save. We find the supreme importance of casting in our 
 lot with God's people. We find how seeking the kingdom 
 of God and His Eighteousness all other things are added 
 unto us. We find an exemplification in Ruth herself of 
 what has been so artistically described by Milton *^ pure-eyed 
 faith, white-handed hope, and the unblemished form of 
 chastity." We find the supermundane or spiritual aspect of 
 the marriage-tie. We find how after weeping which endur- 
 etli for the night, joy cometh in the morning ! All these 
 and much more we find in the Book of Ruth, and we 
 consider it a pleasure rather than a task to trace this 
 history, as it unfolds itself in its beautifully diversified 
 colors. 
 
 Behold that group of wandering Israelites ! From 
 whither are they wandering and whereto bound ? It is 
 from Bethlehem they are wandering ; Bethlehem '^ the 
 house of bread," Bethlehem within whose gates was a 
 pellucid spring of refreshing waters ; Bethlehem around 
 which were concentered the Jew's most devout associa- 
 tions ; Bethlehem the promised birth-place of the Messiah ; 
 Bethlehem the glorious was this discontented family de- 
 serting, because there was a famine in the land. It was 
 a hasty, foolish wandering after all. Whither are they 
 going? To the land of Moab, a land of idolatry and crime 
 which has *■ fulness of bread like that in Sodom." The 
 man's name was Elimelech (God my king), the woman's 
 name Naomi (Pleasant), and the names of the two sons 
 Mahlon and Chilion. Alas ! that this family should be so 
 ill-judged as to make the exchange, an exchange of the 
 spiritual for the carnal, an exchange the full significance of 
 which can only be understood by contemplating the Moab 
 
( 21 ) 
 
 within and around us, " the lust of the flesh, and the lust 
 of the eye, and the pride of life." 
 
 A few short years and circumstances are sadly changed. 
 Elimelech, Mahlon, and Chilion are now no more, and 
 Naomi, with two widowed daughters-in-law Orpah and Ruth, 
 Moabitesses, feels her desolation. She begins to think 
 about and afterwards to long for home. It almost reminds 
 one of the prodigal's longing for his father's house in the 
 parable which has been called the gospel of the Gospels 
 (Evangelium in Evangelio.) Her afflictions have been so 
 overwhelming and so bitter that she can hardly stand them. 
 "Call me not Naomi (pleasant) she said, but call me Mara 
 (bitter), for the Almighty hath dealt very bitterly with me." 
 Yes, poor Naomi seems to have forgotten that the fruits of 
 our wandering away from God are bitter indeed ! But observe 
 her tender sohcitude for her widowed daughters-in-law 
 even then. " And Naomi said unto her daughters-in-law. 
 Go, return each to her mother's house : the Lord deal kindly 
 with you as ye have dealt with the dead and with me." But 
 whether this apparent discouragement was the language 
 of the innermost core of her soul seems very doubtfuL 
 Orpah kissed her mother-in-law, but Ruth clave unto her ; 
 clave unto her to go forward to the land of Israel, " for 
 thy people," she said, *^ shall be my people, and thy God my 
 God." 
 
 It is the beginning of barley harvest. The cerulean 
 aspect of the sky bespeaks unutterable peace, and stretch- 
 ing far to the hill-side of Judea are the cornfields sepa- 
 rated by landmarks, rippling in light and shade like a 
 golden sea. Everything is astir. The voice of the reapers 
 is heard. The bleating of sheep and the lowing of cattle 
 
( 22 ) 
 
 come softly vibrating in the mellow morning air. The 
 kite and the hawk are wheeling overhead, the swallow is 
 darting in fitful eddies, and here and there a solitary 
 lapwing is lazily travelling along sounding its oft-repeated 
 note pee- wit ! pee-wit ! At this season of the year when 
 the universal frame of nature is blessed by God's bounti- 
 ful hand, and earth seems linked to heaven as in a bridal- 
 knot, all hearts seem happy. To the Jewish people it was 
 a season of peculiar significance, for it bespoke of the feast 
 of Tabernacles or ingathering commemorative of the so- 
 journ of Israel in the desert, that feast which is enjoined 
 to be celebrated by dwelling in booths seven days, and 
 by "the boughs of goodly trees, branches of palm-trees, 
 and the boughs of thick trees, and willows of the brook, 
 and by rejoicing before the Lord God."— Lev. 23, (4:0.) 
 The sympathizing heart of poor, stricken Ruth partook in 
 some measure of the general feeling of the people whom 
 she had espoused and adopted. ^^ And Naomi had a 
 kinsman of her husband, a mighty man of wealth of the 
 family of Elimelech, and his name was Boaz. And Ruth, 
 the Moabitess, said unto Naomi, ^^ let me now go to the 
 field and glean ears of corn after him in whose sight I 
 shall find grace." And she said unto her, ^^ go my daughter." 
 Thus then was the dark-eyed Ruth in the field of Boaz, in all 
 the loveliness of her youthful charms, in all the security 
 of conscious virtue, toiling away for a mother's support 
 and comfort. And when Boaz came to visit his well or- 
 dered fields, nothing seemed to him more beautiful than 
 the conduct of Ruth. And Boaz answered and said unto 
 her, '' It hath been fully showed me, all that thou hast 
 done unto thy mother-in-law since the death of thine hus- 
 
( 23 ) 
 
 band ; and how thou hast left thy father and thy mother^ 
 and the land of thy nativity, and hast come unto a people 
 which thou knewest not heretofore. The Lord recompense 
 thy work, and a full reward be given thee of the Lord God 
 of Israel under whose wings thou art come to trust." How 
 this approval grew up into intimacy and admiration, how 
 Ruth in meek humility lay at the feet of her kinsman, how 
 she kept company with the maidens of Boaz and not with 
 the young men, ^' whether poor or rich," and details of this 
 description are related with that divine simplicity which 
 pervades the pages of this book. But perhaps the most 
 instructive point at the close of the history is the redemption 
 proposed and accomplished by Boaz. '^ Then went Boaz and 
 sat him down there : and behold the kinsman of whom Boaz 
 spake came by, unto whom he said, Ho, such-a-one, turn 
 aside, sit down here. And he turned aside, and sat down. 
 And he took ten men of the elders of the city, and said, sit 
 down here. And they sat down. And he said unto the 
 kinsman, Naomi that is come again out of the country of 
 Moab, selleth a parcel of land which was our brother Elime- 
 lech's, and I thought to advertise thee saying buy it before 
 the inhabitants and before the elders of my people. If thou 
 wilt redeem it, redeem it ; but if thou wilt not redeem it, then 
 tell me that L may know ; for there is none to redeem it 
 besides thee, and I am after thee/' Now the redemption 
 here proposed was by marrying a deceased brother's wife, 
 and though perfectly in accordance with the Jewish law, this 
 is the first and last notable instance of it mentioned in 
 Scripture : the kinsman having refused, Boaz stepped in, 
 and the marriage was accomplished. '' And all the people 
 that were in the gate, and the elders said we are witnesses. 
 
( 24 ) 
 
 The Lord make the woman that is come unto thine house 
 like Eachel and like Leah, which two did build the house of 
 Israel ; and do thou worthily in Ephratah and be famous in 
 Bethlehem." Reader, are you bereaved ? Are you poor ? Are 
 you cast down ? You have a rich kinsman who hath redeemed 
 you. Go to Him and lie at his feet, and you will have richer 
 consolation than ever cometh from the power of man I 
 
 1 n a I]. 
 
 So Jonah arose and went unto Nineveh. — Jonah 3. (8.) 
 
 ^' Od arbaim yom venineveh nehpacheth,'* " yet forty days 
 and Nineveh overthrown." — Such was the cry which pro- 
 ceeded from the prophet clad in hairy garments, breaking 
 the stillness of the morning sky as it hung monotonously 
 over the great city Nineveh, sixty miles in extent, with its 
 palaces, gardens and temples, with its statues of great wing- 
 ed bulls and lions with human heads. The debauchee was 
 roused by it, as he was courting the sleep which he had re- 
 pelled during the night, the babe clung closer to the breast 
 of its young mother, merchants, shop-keepers, artificers, 
 gazed with wonder mingled with awe, and as he passed 
 through the fortifications and the broad gates, the eyes of 
 
( 25 ) 
 
 the sentinels ^'clothed in blue" were rivetted towards him. 
 He who had before fled from the presence of the Lord, now 
 arose and went at His bidding with the cry, " yet forty days 
 and Nineveh overthrown." The effect of the preaching was 
 instantaneous. Nineveh turned unto God. The king of 
 Nineveh arose from his throne and girded himself with sack- 
 cloth, and sat on ashes and proclaimed a solemn fast. The 
 whole city cried mightily, and God's anger was stayed. 
 
 But what of Jonah ? He had signal experiences of the 
 Divine mercy when shipping at the one Israelitish port of 
 Joppa, the sea boiled under him like a seething cauldron, 
 and the Tyrian sailors cast him overboard, and one of the 
 monsters of the deep swallowed him up. He had felt the 
 folly of any attempt to flee from God. He had been con- 
 verted, yet his human nature gets the mastery over him. 
 Like the elder brother in the parable, who could not bear see- 
 ing the table spread out for the prodigal and music and 
 dancing, he is in a pet. He would rather see ^^ more than 
 six-score thousand persons, that cannot discern between their 
 right hand and their left," destroyed forthwith, than that his 
 denunciation should remain unrealized. God gently re- 
 monstrates with him (as the father did with his elder son), 
 ^' Doest thou well to be angry" ? Yes, poor Jonah himself 
 rescued from the terrors of the deep, he who had sung " I 
 went down to the bottoms of the mountains ; the earth with 
 her bars was about me for ever. Yet hast thou brought up 
 my life from corruption Lord my God," he who had 
 prayed one of the most remarkable prayers recorded in holy 
 writ, had yet to learn about the height and depth, the 
 length and breadth of God's love and mercy for his sinful 
 creatures. Thus is the innate selfishness of the best of men 
 
( 2G ) 
 
 contrasted with the inexclusive, all-embracing character of 
 that love. The lesson is conveyed to him in a very noble 
 and pleasing form worthy of the great God from whom it 
 came, a divine application of the argumentum ad hominem. 
 Behold him once more then, in his booth on the east side 
 of the city, overshadowed by the broad leaves of a beautiful 
 plant, the Palma Christi. The sudden springing up of this 
 verdant bower seemed to have exercised a softening, soothing 
 influence on his irritated mind. But the canker at the root, 
 like the canker of selfishness in his own heart, soon made it 
 nought. The sun and the vqhement east wind beat upon his 
 head, and he wished in himself to die. Then was put for- 
 ward God's argumentum ad hominem, ^' And God said to 
 Jonah, doest thou well to be angry for the gourd ? And he 
 said, I do well to be angry even unto death. Then said the 
 Lord, thou hast had pity on the gourd for the which thou 
 hast not laboured, neither madest it grow ; which came up in 
 a night and perished in a night, and should not I spare 
 Nineveh that great city"? 
 
 These four short chapters of Jonah are at once pure, 
 simple, and edifying. It is poetry in prose order. Every 
 phrase is vivid, graphic, well-chosen. The picture or set of 
 pictures is highly colored. There is no daub but everything 
 in proper tone, order, and combination. The prophet hast- 
 ing down from the hills of Galilee to flee from God, 
 the embarkation, the storm, the great city Nineveh most 
 magnificent of all the capitals of the ancient world, and last 
 of all the rustic booth overshadowed by the broad leaves and 
 stellated flowers of the Palma Christi, are subjects for the 
 painter's highest skill. But what strikes us as most beauti- 
 ful and sublime i§ Jonah's song of thanksgiving. There i^ 
 
( 27 ) 
 
 a depth, a spiritual richness about it, to which we can scarce- 
 ly find a parallel. Some passages of the Book of Job, some 
 of the psalms of David, and the song of Hannah come up to 
 but are not to our thinking superior to it. 
 
 The great lesson to be gathered from the Book of Jonah 
 is the distinct claim of the Gentile world on the justice and 
 mercy of God, and its recognition by God. 
 
 We have already stated that we are no sectarian, and that 
 we should be happy if we could but cast in our lot with the 
 people of God in whichever branch of the visible Church 
 they may be found. We have no sympathy with those who 
 would send unbaptized infants to perdition, or entertain un- 
 meaning and superstitious reverence for the priest. We go 
 further. We sympathise so far as we are able, though we do not^ 
 agree with those who hold that all the Gentile nations to whom 
 Christ has not been preached, the ancient Hindus, Eomans, 
 Greeks, Persians, may have an opportunity of turning to God. 
 
 The character of Jonah is to all to appearance self-contradic- 
 tory. Its specialty renders it most interesting. He was of 
 Gath-hepher, a town of Galilee, and is mentioned in the 2nd 
 book of Kings (14. 23). *' In the fifteenth year of Amaziah 
 the son of Joash king of Judah, Jeroboam the son of Joash 
 king of Israel began to reign in Samaria, and reigned forty 
 and one years. And he did that which was evil in the sight 
 of the Lord ; he departed not from all the sins of Jeroboam, 
 the son of Nebat, who made Israel to sin. He restored 
 the coast of Israel from the entering of Hamath unto the 
 sea of the plain according to the word of the Lord God of 
 Israel, which he spake by the hand of his servant Jonah, 
 the son of Amittai, the prophet which was of Gath-hepher. 
 For the Lord saw the af&iction of Israel that it was very 
 
( 28 ) 
 
 bitter : for there was not any shut up, nor any left, nor any 
 helper for Israel." The functions of the prophetic office 
 had thus been exercised by him in his own country and 
 among his own people before he was commissioned to preach 
 repentance to Nineveh. The influence of the Jewish people 
 over other nations, (the Egyptians, the Tyrians, the Babylo- 
 nians, the Assyrians for example) was very marked in an- 
 cient times, and will be so in the latter times, but in a far 
 more effective and salutary way. Israel shall yet be to 
 other nations what Jonah, the son of Amittai, was to the 
 Ninevites. When Israel glorifies God and is again glorified 
 by its God, light will radiate from it and lighten the Gentiles. 
 
 And lastly what an exemplification have we here of the 
 goodness and mercy of God, what a practical illustration of 
 the words of the prophet Joel, '^ He is gracious and merciful, 
 slow to anger and of great kindness, and repenteth Him of 
 the evil." Eepenteth Him of the evil ! The love of the 
 most indulgent human father cannot in any way bear com- 
 parison with the love of God. And when we consider that 
 God who is our Father is also the mightiest potentate, the 
 intrinsic value of this love is heightened a hundredfold. For 
 where there is a combination of the royal and paternal 
 functions, such love can only flow to us-ward after the require- 
 ments of His eternal laws have been fully satisfied. 
 
Jflofoers. 
 
 Consider the lilies of the field how they grow ; they toil not, 
 neither do they spin. — Matthew 6. (28.) 
 
 Words of instruction, consolation, and hope worthy of 
 the great Master from whose lips they fell ! Weigh them in 
 golden scales with the sublimated essence of all poetry, and 
 they shall not be found wanting. The Author of nature is 
 also the lover of nature, a love so tender and so pure as to 
 flutter back from the unseemly gaze of the work-day world. 
 Therefore the more closely we approximate to the similitude 
 of Him, the more intensely the love of nature will be deve- 
 loped in our souls. And this is what may be expected. The 
 beauties of creation were for the delight of man. Those 
 summer sunset clouds which lie entangled among the bars of 
 yon lofty Casuarinas, that green upland slowly commingling 
 with the blue of the embracing horizon, the flowers which 
 skirt our path, retain traces of the beauty of Paradise. 
 Look only to the coloring of flowers, something more exqui- 
 site than ever turned out from dyer's vat or painter's brush, 
 and say whether they are wholly of the grossness of earth. 
 Every mood of the mind has there its fitting exponent. 
 Are you gay ? Are you meditative ? Are you sad ? Are you 
 in mourning ? Bring flowers to suit each varying mood : 
 
 " Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, 
 
 The tufted crow-toe, and pale jessamine, 
 
 The white pink, and the pansy freak'd with jet. 
 
 The glowing violet, 
 
 The musk-rose, and the well-attired wood-bine, 
 
 With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head." 
 
( 30 ) 
 
 I have often thought, though it is nothing more than an 
 idle conceit, that flowers are the embroidery-work of the 
 angels. As every flower is emblematic of some afi'ection or 
 quality, the rose of love, the lily of majesty, the jasmine of 
 amiableness, and so forth, they may also be compared to the 
 hieroglyphics of angelic language. 
 
 But it is not of the flowers of England or of India that 
 we shall now speak. We all know that both the mother- 
 country and its foster-daughter are decked with some of 
 Flora's richest treasures. The lotus of India is in itself a 
 host. Yet leaving all, we shall endeavour to trace the beau- 
 tiful significance of the words quoted as text. 
 
 Dr. Thomson in his work " The Land and the Book" 
 believes that by the word " lilies" the Huleh lily is meant, 
 " it is very large, and the three inner petals meet above and 
 form a gorgeous canopy, such as art never approached, and 
 king never sat under even in his utmost glory. And when I 
 met this incomparable flower in all its loveliness among the 
 oak woods around the northern base of Tabor and on the hills 
 of Nazareth, where our Lord spent His youth, I felt assured, 
 that it was this to which He referred.'' Others however 
 are inclined to think that the word '^ lilies" is decidedly 
 synechdochical, and means all wild flowers. We are inclined 
 to the latter view, as " the lilies" here seem to form part of 
 the grass of the field ^ which to-day is and to-morrow is cast 
 into the oven' alluded to immediately after. The spiritual 
 application of the example is striking. As the beauty of 
 the flower is unfolded from within, so from within, by a 
 process of evolution, are Christian graces developed in the 
 man ; again the humblest of God's handiwork is superior 
 to the proudegt efi'ort of man for his own glory ; and lastly, 
 
( 31 ) 
 
 there is the teaching that to take anxious thought for the 
 things of the world, for food and raiment, in preference to 
 reliance on the Great Giver is, after all, foolishness. Here 
 and everywhere in Holy Scripture the dignity of man as 
 lord of creation is distinctly upheld. It is this dignity 
 which belonged to him when God Almighty first planted a 
 garden, and which shall yet be his in its original form, when 
 the wilderness of this world shall rejoice and blossom 
 as the rose. 
 
 What a fitting analogy have we in flowers to the silent 
 growth of the soul unto God ! If there is any fact fully 
 established, it is this : that in the majority of cases the 
 growth of the soul in grace is a very slow process. As petal 
 after petal slowly opens, fed by the refreshing dews of 
 Hermon, the odour of sanctity has a wider range. " In quiet- 
 ness and in confidence shall be your strength." Many a soul 
 has issued from the silence of the cell or the closet or retired 
 leisure redolent of the love of God and man. We can thus 
 account why poets, whom I rank next to apostles and 
 prophets, have a partiality for a life of comparative isolation 
 and inactivity. Not that such a life is absolutely required, 
 for even among throngs of people and amid the busiest con- 
 cerns of life, we might so hedge in our souls, as to be out 
 of the influence of noxious exhalations and open to the light 
 of heaven, yet it is a fact that poets have a predilec- 
 tion for it. 
 
 Hence Milton 
 
 And add to these retired Leisure, 
 That in trim gardens takes his pleasure. 
 
( 32 ) 
 
 And Cowley 
 
 Oh ! fountains ! when in yon shall I 
 Myself, eased of unpeaceful thoughts espy? 
 Oh fields ? Oh woods ! when, when shall I be made 
 The happy tenant of your shade ? 
 
 Thomson's love of indolence and Cowper's partiality for a 
 retired life are well-known. Nor have poets been less 
 eloquent about the devotional aspirations stirred up by 
 flowers. Listen to Wordsworth — 
 
 Where will they stop those breathing powers 
 
 The spirits of the new-born flowers ? 
 
 They wander with the breeze, they wind 
 
 Where'er the streams a passage find ; 
 
 Up from their native ground they rise 
 
 In mute aerial harmonies : 
 
 From humble violet, modest thyme 
 
 Exhaled, the essential odours climb, 
 
 As if no space below the sky 
 
 Their subtle flight could satisfy : 
 
 Heaven will not tax our thoughts with pride 
 
 If like ambition be their guide. 
 
 We have said that flowers are a beautiful analogy of the 
 silent growth of the soul unto God. It was thus that our 
 Saviour grew up secretly into the consciousness of his own 
 divine nature. His hidden life is not meaningless. Slowly 
 the bud expanded into the flower. From the first distinctive 
 sign of that expansion conveyed in the words ^^Wist ye 
 not that I must be about my Father's business" to the full 
 bloom of God-life manifest in the flesh, this law of expansion 
 or growth or development is distinctly traceable. Few there 
 are who are able to say that time and meditation are of no 
 special use to a life of faith. For short of miracle the 
 process of sanctification in its practical bearings is a gradual 
 process. 
 
 There is one other point in the words quoted a^ text 
 
( 33 ) 
 
 which requires explanation. Do not these words set a dis- 
 count upon industry and toil ? Do not they seem to foster 
 sloth and immobility rather than persevering effort ? We 
 tliink this an entire misconception of their real meaning. 
 There is no doubt that toil is of the curse pronounced on 
 man : '' In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread." Yet 
 St. Paul issues his admonition with much seeming severity, 
 that if any work not, neither should he eat. Every wild- 
 flower points to the day when work shall be worship and labor 
 shall be rest, when the believing spirit will be in uninterrupted 
 and equable communion with the Spirit of God. All that 
 is now enjoined, is an humble reliance in all our concerns on 
 that Being who is at once the source and centre of all beauty 
 and of all joy. " Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His 
 righteousness, and all other things will be added finto you." 
 
 We love flowers when we are infants, when the ^^ lilies 
 look large as the trees ;" we are passionately fond of 
 them in our schoolboy days, and we loiter in bye-lanes 
 and beside hedges to pick them up ; and they exercise a 
 genial influence on us when we grow old, instilling a sum- 
 mer feeling in the autumn and winter of our lives. Flowers 
 are the poetry of the earth, as stars are the poetry of the 
 sky. Flowers deck bridals, and are strewn over hearses. 
 " We adorn their graves," says Evelyn, " with flowers and 
 redolent plants, just emblems of the life of man, which 
 has been compared in Holy Scriptures to those fading 
 beauties whose roots being buried in dishonour rise again 
 in glory." 
 
 To us who have been called out from the darkness and 
 barbarities of heathenism, what a comforting assurance 
 is it that our graves will be green with grass and 
 
 £ 
 
( 84 ) 
 
 blossom with flowers ! Surely if there was nothing more 
 in Christianity than this respect for the dead and this 
 appreciation of the tender and the beautiful, it would 
 justify our acceptance of that faith. But thanks be to 
 God that there are things incomparably higher, incom- 
 parably more precious than these ephemeral mementos. 
 For while the Christian's grave is decked with ever-greens 
 and flowers, he himself will be crowned with wreaths of 
 the immortal amaranth in the regions of light and blessedness, 
 he himself will be transplanted to those bright parterres 
 where grows in perfect beauty the Rose of Sharon ! 
 
 %\tQtXRt^. 
 
 The Lord shall reign forever and ever, — Exodus 15. (18). 
 
 God is the King of kings. All nations which profess Chris- 
 tianity acknowledge this. And though the Statute Book of 
 such nations may contain laws which are against the intent 
 and scope of the Bible, or the doctrines held may be some 
 corrupted forai of true religion, or the conduct of individual 
 members and masses may deviate widely from it, yet the fact 
 remains that wherever Christianity is the national religion, 
 
( 35 ) 
 
 God is acknowledged, nominally at least, as King. It has 
 been often urged, and we believe with good reason, that this 
 acknowledgment merely increases a nation's responsibility, and 
 that thus, its lapses, faults and sins will be visited with punish- 
 ment more condign. But at present we shall not enter into 
 the invidious enquiry. That which is noble, that which is 
 beautiful, that which is heavenly, must be acknowledged to 
 be such. It matters not that every heathen monarch is not 
 wicked like Domitian, who assumed the title of deity, and at 
 the same time amused himself by sticking flies on a bodkin, 
 or that every Christian monarch has not the wisdom and the 
 lowliness of King Canute, renowned alike in story and in 
 song — 
 
 "Then Canute, rising from the invaded throne, 
 
 Said to his servile courtiers, — "poor the reach. 
 
 The undisguised extent of mortal sway ! 
 
 He only is a king and he alone 
 
 Deserves the name (this truth the billows preach,) 
 
 Whose everlasting laws sea, earth and heaven obey.. 
 
 This just reproof the prosperous Dane 
 Drew from the influx of the main, 
 For some whose rugged mouths would strain 
 At oriental flattery ; 
 
 And Canute (fact more worthy to be known) 
 From that time forth did for his brows disown, 
 The ostentatious symbol of a crown ; 
 Esteeming earthly royalty 
 Contemptible as vain." 
 
 Yet the acknowledgment by a nation of God as King is 
 after all, a noble, a beautiful, a heavenly thing. ^' Sir," said 
 Archbishop Sancroft to the licentious Charles Second on his 
 death-bed, ^^it is time to speak out ; for you are about to 
 appear before a Judge who is no respector of persons." The 
 world may be able to boast of an exceedingly limited number 
 
( 3G ) 
 
 of Sancrofts, yet we would rather see it nominally Christian^ 
 than under the black sway of heathenism or other forms of 
 false religion. 
 
 Theocracy means the royal rule of God oyer His people. 
 The Old Testament theocracy commenced when God had re- 
 vealed himself on Mount Sinai and Scripture became a written 
 word, reached its point of culmination during the times of 
 David and Solomon, and was entirely suspended by the des- 
 truction of Jerusalem. The New Testament theocracy has yet 
 to be seen in its full development in the last epoch of the 
 world-times, when Israel shall be converted and take the lead 
 among the nations. As the institutions of the levitical 
 service were promulgated to serve as types of Christ, so the 
 Old Testament theocracy may be viewed as a type of the 
 New, which will be the greatest glory on earth. The culmi- 
 nating point of the Old Testament theocracy, that is to say 
 the times of David and Solomon, is thus in a peculiar sense a 
 type of the kingdom of the Messiah, hereafter to be establish- 
 ed. We have often heard objections taken against Scripture 
 because David, who was guilty of flagrant crimes, is regarded 
 by Christians to be a type of the Saviour, but except in the 
 general sense above indicated of the puissance of his regal 
 sway, and except in so far as he was led by God to do what 
 is noble and just and proper, he is no more a type of the 
 Saviour than a chimpanzee is a type of man. 
 
 The reigns of David and of Solomon are undoubtedly the 
 most glorious era of Jewish history. '^ Saul," says the 
 learned Heeren, " had only been the general of an army carry- 
 ing out the orders of Jehovah as transmitted by Samuel, 
 without a court, without a fixed residence. The nation was 
 #as yet only an agricultural and pastoral race, without riches, 
 
( 37 ) 
 
 without luxnry, but which became by insensible degrees a 
 warlike people. Under David were effected a total reform of 
 the nation and change of the mode of government ; the 
 establishment of a fixed residence at Jerusalem, where was 
 also the seat of the sanctuary ; a rigorous observance of the 
 worship of Jehovah as the exclusively national religion ; a 
 considerable increase to the State by conquest." But these 
 conquests, however glorious, were excelled by the victories of 
 peace, for '* peace hath her victories no less than war," which 
 were achieved in the reign of his son Solomon. Then ^' Judah 
 and Israel dwelt safely, every ma a under his own vine and 
 under his own fig tree from Dan to Beersheba." Then rose 
 the great temple with the rapidity of the prophet's gourd. 
 Every sort of oriental gorgeousness was lavished upon it, — 
 works of bronze, iron, gold, silver and marble. And in the 
 eighth year after the commencement, the Ark of the covenant 
 was placed in the Holy of Holies. Some of the words of 
 Solomon at the dedication are too remarkable to be omitted. 
 *^ Will God," he said, ^'m very deed dwell with men on the 
 earth ? Behold the heaven and the heaven of heavens 
 cannot contain Thee ; how much less this house which I 
 have built." ! 
 
 And now we may remark in passing with reference to these 
 words of King Solomon that the doctrine of the presence or 
 omnipresence of God is often misunderstood in our days. 
 The locality and the essentiality of the matter is mixed up, 
 and thus a confusion begins. God is locally present only 
 in the highest heaven, (and we do not know what or where 
 that is,) but is essentially present in all that we see of nature's 
 laws, and also in our own souls. Any deviation from this 
 sound way of thought would land us on the shoals and 
 
( 38 ) 
 
 quicksands of Pantheism. Poets may be allowed to say of 
 changing seasons, 
 
 " These as they change, Almighty Father, these 
 Are but the varied God." 
 
 But when subjected to the test of true philosophy, the 
 words will be found to mix up nature with nature's Author. 
 In the beauty, symmetry and sublimity of nature, in the 
 majestic mountain, in the broad river, in the life-giving 
 breeze, in the simple wayside flower we trace God's pre 
 sence, inasmuch as they are God's handiwork, and He sustains 
 all that He has created. But to say that God is present 
 locally anywhere but in heaven, is unsound. Even the 
 Jewish people could only boast of the Shechinah. 
 
 But while acknowledging the presence of God everywhere 
 in the sense above explained, we cannot at the same time 
 be less sensible of the disturbing influences which exist both 
 in nature and in ourselves. Hurricane, drought, famine and 
 death, affect alike nature and man. By what spiritual 
 influences these occur, we need not stop here to enquire. 
 The glorious liberty of the children of God by which the 
 creature itself shall be delivered from the bondage of cor- 
 ruption, shall be an accomplished fact at the ushering in of 
 the New Testament theocracy. 
 
 And this leads us to speak about the glorious doctrine of 
 theocratical liberty. Every Christian is a freedman of 
 Christ. God is his king, and he is a priest and king unto 
 God. And although we wait for the redemption of our 
 bodies or transfiguration of the flesh, we are yet freedmen. 
 Saved by hope, we care not for the disturbing agencies in 
 creation, we care not for the evils which surround us, we 
 defy Satan and his legions. We desire only the liberty in 
 
( 39 ) 
 
 Christ. As well might the lark, tumbling joyously over 
 sun-lit morning clouds and pouring a full tide of song, envy 
 the liberty of the strutting fowl ; as well might the eagle, 
 soaring high on the blue ether of the empyrean heavens, envy 
 the liberty of the carrion kite or jay, as a Christian sigh for 
 political freedom. Conscious of being the possessor of a 
 far higher liberty it seems so comparatively valueless in his 
 eyes, such a childish- trinket or gew-gaw, and composed of 
 such weak and beggarly elements, that he has no thoughts 
 to bestow upon it. This doctrine of theocratic liberty is 
 at once the most consoling, elevating and salutary. Accept 
 it, dear friends, and let a portion at least of your time and 
 energies, spent in senseless political agitation, be consecrated 
 to the cause of Christ. 
 
 Theocracy then has yet to be estabhshed in its glory and 
 its fulness in this world. The day when this shall be, is 
 known only to the Lord. But from the aspect of nature 
 and from the events now occurring around us, it does not 
 seem to be far distant. As there were large accessions in 
 the shape of territory to the kingdom of David, so there 
 will be large accessions to the kingdom of God. As there 
 was a glorious temple in the time of Solomon, so there will 
 be a temple far more glorious when the Lord shall reign 
 in righteousness. God will dwell among men. Whether by 
 Shechinah, or by out-pouring of the Spirit, or by local 
 presence, we shall not presume to decide. The words are 
 " He will dwell with them and they shall be His people." 
 The temple will be a living temple. The materials are 
 now being severed from the quarry. " My word," saith 
 the Lord, " is as the hammer, and as the fire which breaketh 
 in pieces the rocks." And again, *^ I will lay thy stones 
 
( 40 ) 
 
 with fair colors, and lay thy foundations with sapphires, 
 and I will make thy windows of agates, and thy gates 
 of carbuncles, and all thy borders of pleasant stones." And 
 from out this living temple will proceed the song ^^ Alleluia, 
 Alleluia, for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth'^ ! 
 
 €\t Cljaratler d Christ. 
 
 Mt/ beloved is white and ruddy, the chiefest among ten 
 
 thousand his countenance is as Lebanon^ 
 
 excellent as the cedars. His mouth is most sweet : Yea, 
 he is altogether lovely, — Solomon's Song 5. (10 — 15,16.) 
 
 Let us contemplate for a little while the character of 
 Christ. Nothing else can come up to it in beauty or 
 sublimity. Shallow we must pronounce that philosophy 
 to be which says, that beauty is no external entity, but is 
 an affection of the mind, and of the mind only. It lies 
 entangled in the web of its own wordy lore, and no eter- 
 nal truths like what we see in the calm depths of Bible- 
 philosophy, is to be found in it. As well might one say 
 that heaven is a state and not a place, that the soul exists 
 without the body raised out of corruption into incorruption, 
 that spiritual life is a word without meaning, and not life 
 as we know it, intensified, purified, sublimed, by grace from 
 
( *1 ) 
 
 on high, as that beauty is no external entity. It is true 
 that all objects present to our senses derive their beauty 
 from association, but what is the standard to which the 
 associated feelings conferring the adornment, refer? God is 
 beauty and Christ is God. 
 
 Fair the vernal mead, 
 
 Fair the high grove, the sea, the sun, the stars, 
 True impress each of their creating Sire ! 
 Yet nor high grove, nor many-colored mead. 
 Nor the green ocean with his thousand isles. 
 Nor the starred azure, nor the Sovran Sun, 
 E'er with such majesty of portraiture 
 Imaged the supreme beauty uncreate 
 As thou meek Saviour" ! 
 
 Childhood, manhood, death, the very perfection of beauty, 
 the very transcendence of sublimity. 
 
 Who can depict the beauty of the Babe of Bethlehem ! 
 Raffaele made the attempt over and over, but could not suc- 
 ceed or even satisfy himself : the wise men of the east, bring- 
 ing presents of gold and frankincense and myrrh, saw that 
 surpassing loveliness and worshipped : old Simeon felt its 
 benign influence when he took the Christ-child up in his 
 arms and uttered those memorable words. Nor was it a whit 
 tarnished when at the age of twelve he sat in the temple in 
 the midst of the doctors, both hearing them and asking 
 questions, engaged about his Father's business, but returned 
 with Joseph and Mary and was subject unto them. It shono 
 forth years after when the panegyric pronounced by a wo- 
 man " Blessed is the womb that bare thee and the paps which 
 thou hast sucked/' eUcited the reply " Yea, rather blessed 
 are they that hear the word of God and keep it." 
 
 Christ has been styled ^' the first true gentleman that ever 
 breathed" by one of our ancient English poets. And separat- 
 
 F 
 
( 42 ) 
 
 ing the miraculous or divine element of his character, no truer 
 description of that character can anywhere be found. Now 
 the meaning of the word "gentleman" it is somewhat diffi- 
 cult to determine. It is different with different peoples, and 
 vary with varying circumstances. In Bengal or Bengali 
 Society Proper, no one is considered a gentleman who does 
 not possess a stagnant complaisance of temper, who does not 
 pucker his big well-shaven cheeks and relax his handsome 
 moustache-mounted physiognomy into a reverential grin at 
 all times, and at everything, who has not a great respect for 
 the conventionalities of life, for the Brahmins, and the gods. 
 Among the rising or advancing generation of Bengalis 
 called Young Bengal, a thorough contempt of caste and 
 all religions, and a turn for politics are perhaps the sine 
 qua non. In England and some other civilized countries 
 first-rate education is now an indispensable. And there was 
 a time when the term " gentleman" was synonymous with a 
 duellist, a horse-jockey, or a libertine. In no such tortuous 
 sense was our Saviour a gentleman, His was the highest, 
 holiest gentlemanhood. Condescension, wisdom, purity, love, 
 made up his life. Oh, how weak, how utterly jejune does all 
 other philanthropy appear compared with the philanthropy of 
 Christ. Who has or ever can more truly sympathise with 
 the world's sufferings ? All attempts to alleviate the miseries 
 of slavery, to raise humanity from vice and degradation, to 
 feed the hungry, to house the homeless, and clothe the naked, 
 are faint approximations to the mind of Christ. But there 
 are people who hold a different opinion. The injunction 
 "heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out 
 devils, freely ye have received freely give, provide neither 
 gold nor silver, nor brass in your purses, nor scrip for your 
 
( 43 ) 
 
 journey, neither two coats, neither shoes nor yet staves" 
 issued at first under a restriction based on judicial reasons, 
 but which restriction was soon after expressly taken off, is 
 not enough to satisfy them. Glancing the other evening at 
 a work which on publication had a run of several editions, 
 * Ecce Homo,' we came across the following passage : ^* We 
 are advanced by eighteen hundred years beyond the apostolic 
 generation. All the narrowing influences, which have been 
 enumerated, have ceased to operate. Our minds are set free, 
 so that we may boldly criticise the usages around us, know- 
 ing them to be but imperfect essays towards order and happi- 
 ness, and no divinely or supematurally ordained constitution 
 which it would be impious to change. We have witnessed 
 improvements in physical well-being, which incline us to 
 expect further progress and make us keen-sighted to detect 
 the evils and miseries that remain. The channels of communi- 
 cation between nations and their governments are free, so that 
 thethoughtof the private philanthropist may mould a whole 
 community. And finally we have at our disposal a vast 
 treasure of science, from which we may discover what physical 
 well-being is, and on what conditions it depends. In these 
 circumstances the Gospel precepts of philanthropy become 
 utterly insufficient." Gospel precepts of philanthropy utterly 
 insufficient! Is not the above passage Babylonish jargon ? 
 It requires no comment. It only reminds us of the Bengali 
 Baboo who came to us and said that he was prepared to 
 accept Christianity if we could prove to him that Christ's 
 commands for turning the right cheek when smitten on the 
 left, and of giving one's cloak when the coat is taken, are not 
 subversive of the best interests of society. 
 
 We will repeat then that Christ'^ character, regarded even 
 
( 44 ) 
 
 in its human aspect, is unequalled in excellency. The 
 character of the Greek philosopher Socrates has sometimes 
 been compared to the character of Christ, but the comparison 
 only heightens the contrast. What, indeed, are his teachings 
 in the groves of Academus, or on the banks of the Ilissus, 
 beside the Sermon on the Mount ? " Blessed are the poor 
 in spirit ! for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are 
 they that mourn : for they shall be comforted. Blessed 
 are the meek : for they shall inherit the earth. Blessed are 
 they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness : for 
 they shall be filled. Blessed are the merciful : for they shall 
 obtain mercy. Blessed are the pure in heart : for they shall 
 see God." Did words like these ever fall from his lips ? 
 To say the least it is foolish to make the comparison. Nor is 
 the contrast at all less glaring when the closing scenes of the 
 two lives are brought together. While Plato covered his face, 
 Crito wept, and Apollodorus broke forth into lamentations, the 
 words of the celebrated philosopher were ' What do ye my 
 friends ? Truly, I sent away the women for no other reason, 
 but lest they should in this kind offend. For I have heard 
 that we ought to die with good men's gratulation, but recom- 
 pense yourselves and resume your courage and resolution." 
 This consolation to his disciples may be said to bear a distant, 
 and almost imperceptible analogy to the words of Christ, 
 " Daughters of Jerusalem weep not for me." But as we 
 read further on, what vastidity of difference ! The last words 
 of Socrates were *^ We owe a cock to ^sculapius ; but do ye 
 pay him and neglect not to do it." The last words of Christ 
 were * Father, into thy hands I commend my spirit.' 
 
 We shall conclude by asking who is Christ whose character 
 surpasses in beauty all other characters in history, nay all 
 
( 45 ) 
 
 other characters in romance, ancient or modern ? So that one 
 more excellent has not even entered into the imagination of 
 man : and by replying — Christ is God. 
 
 ^tonentenf. 
 
 '^ Christ our passover is sacrificed for usJ^ — 1 Cor. 5. (7.) 
 
 The doctrine of the Atonement is the central truth of 
 Christianity. Volumes have been written upon it with such 
 ability, erudition and unction, that it is with the greatest 
 diffidence that we undertake to say a word on this glorious 
 and momentous theme. If the whole of the Bible were a 
 myth, then indeed might , the Socinian mode of explaining 
 away this truth of truths appear plausible, but if the Bible 
 be a record of verities, if it be a scroll in which we can trace 
 types and symbols of higher truth, if it be a mine of 
 inexhaustible spiritual treasure, then must the doctrine be 
 accepted as set forth, without any attempt to accommodate 
 and adjust it to our own weak and deluded ideas. 
 
 But before entering into an explanation of the Scriptural 
 view of this subject, we may be allowed to observe that the 
 religion of the Hindus gives a most prominent place to 
 penances for sin, and though clearly open to a charge of 
 
( 46 ) 
 
 frivolity on this account, it may thus be said to contain the 
 doctrine of atonement in an embryous or corrupted state. 
 According to the fanciful Angira ^' As the sun disperseth and 
 removeth darkness, so penance disperseth and remoyeth sin. 
 Even as the moon emerges from black clouds, so does a man 
 emerge from his guilt by the performance of penance." To 
 preserve the soul from the effects of atipataka, mahapataka, 
 upapataJca, ^-c, presents to Brahmins, ablutions in sacred 
 streams, and the repetition of mantras are enjoined." " A 
 holy river," says the Mahabharata, *' possesses the power of 
 cleansing iniquities, numberless though they be, as surely as 
 fire possesses the power of igniting cotton." Guatama and 
 Viswamitra advocate presents of gold, clothes, cows, lands, 
 horses and rice. A Brahmin killing another by accident has 
 to make expiatory presents of 180 cows, but a Sudra guilty 
 of the same offence, has to give away 720. Details of this 
 description are given with a minuteness quite edifying. 
 
 Now, for the Scripture view. The book of Leviticus, which 
 is the Statute Book of Jewish ceremonial law, contains, inter 
 alia, the following directions for burnt offerings. ^' If any 
 man of you bring an offering unto the Lord, ye shall bring 
 your offering of the cattle, even of the herd and of the 
 flock. If his offering be a burnt sacrifice of the herd, let him 
 
 offer a male without a blemish And he shall put his hand 
 
 upon the head of the burnt offering, and it shall be accepted 
 for him to make atonement for him," Now, comparing this 
 clause with the language of St. Peter when he says " Redeem- 
 ed with the precious blood of Christ, as of a lamb without 
 blemish and without spot," it is to us a matter of profound 
 wonder, that men should regard the analogy between the 
 type and antitype, as forced or unsatisfactory, or inconsistent 
 
( 47 ) 
 
 with the character of God. Of the essential attributes even 
 of material things we know little or nothing, how then — of 
 God ? We can only know him as He has been revealed unto 
 us. And the voice of this revelation is clear and decided on 
 the point at issue. 
 
 The deeper and clearer our insight into the character of 
 God, the deeper and clearer will be our view of the Atonement. 
 God is love. God is purity. With infinite compassion for 
 the sinner, he has infinite hatred against sin. In order, 
 therefore, to open up a way for the sinner to be reconciled, 
 he ** became sin," that is to say, purity bore willingly the 
 punishment of sin to rescue the sinner. The punishment, 
 the pain, the agony, is the atonement made for man. 
 
 The objective manifestation of this truth is Christ on the 
 Cross. The death of our Saviour was no ordinary death. 
 The inspired Evangelist says that " at the ninth hour he cried 
 with a loud voice, saying Eloi, Eloi, lama sabacthani ?" His 
 travail was in direct ratio to the holiness of his nature. Even 
 for human beings death is horribly abnormal, it is sin work- 
 ing in us and culminating in a cessation of the vital functions, 
 and unless superseded by the gift of new life is certain dam- 
 nation. What must it then have been to the immortal Son 
 of God ! For a being of infinite purity and holiness, to suffer 
 this condemnation, (or to use more mystical language) for 
 God Himself to be separated from God, involved suffering 
 which no human mind can fathom. He was "the Lamb 
 slain from the foundation of the world." Out of infinite 
 love God gave his Son to be a propitiatory sacrifice for the 
 sins of the world. Through this propitiatory sacrifice the 
 death in us may be supplanted by life. Almighty love has 
 willed it 30, even from the foundation of the world. Looking 
 
( 48 ) 
 
 to that Cross and that bleeding Sacrifice, the Christian may 
 well say, " death is swallowed up in victory." 
 
 Such then are the broad outlines of the doctrine of Atone- 
 ment, a doctrine clearly read in Scripture, and without which 
 Christianity would be an empty husk void of life or substance. 
 It bears upon it the unmistakeable stamp of a divine original. 
 It was God who planned it. His eternal attributes, He could 
 not militate. Therefore, rather than lose the guiltiest of his 
 creatures, the sword of vengeance awoke against His Fellow, 
 and thus His justice was vindicated, and its glory magnified. 
 High as this plan is, it reaches the darkest depths of human 
 nature. No other plan except this " which the angels desire 
 to look into" could have softened ossified souls or made ' dry 
 bones live.' 
 
 " Christ our Passover has been sacrificed for us." The 
 feast of the Passover or of unleavened bread was, as we all 
 know, one of the three great festivals of the Jews. " Three 
 times thou shalt keep a feast unto me in the year. Thou 
 shaltkeep the feast of unleavened bread : (thou shalt eat un- 
 leavened bread seven days as I commanded thee in the time 
 appointed of the month of Abib ; for in it thou camest out 
 from Egypt, and none shall appear before me empty :) and 
 the feast of harvest, the first fruits of thy labors, which thou 
 hast sown in thy field : and feast of ingathering, which is in 
 the end of the year, when thou hast gathered in thy labors 
 out of the field. Three times in the year shall all thy males 
 appear before the Lord God." Exod. 23 (14-17.) These 
 feasts were formal recognitions by the nation of God as King 
 and Ruler and as the giver of every good gift, and had a 
 most salutary influence on the national character ; they were 
 also accompanied by guch imposing solemnities as to render 
 
( 49 ) 
 
 them types or exponents of their own peculiar religion. The 
 Passover was celebrated by a sacred supper. A lamb was 
 roasted and eaten with a salad of bitter herbs. Loins girt, staff 
 in hand and kneading trough on shoulder, the guests par- 
 took of it. The bread was unleavened, and the utmost strict- 
 ness was observed to remove all leaven from the house. 
 
 And now we shall conclude by observing the difference be- 
 tween man^s religion and God's religion, between Hinduism 
 and Christianity. ^' Christ our Passover has been sacrificed 
 for us." Not what we have to do to expiate our sins, as in the 
 religion of the Hindus, but what has been done for us is here 
 expressed. Not a jot or tittle more is required. It is not 
 Christ helping us even, but Christ for us. John Gerhard, a 
 Lutheran divine, has well observed in a book published in 
 1606, 'Hhe Devil terrifies me with my sins, but let him accuse 
 Him which hath undertaken my infirmities, whom the Lord 
 hath smitten for my sins." Look then unto the Cross and 
 be ye saved, — there is our Atonement, there our Surety. 
 
 G 
 
%\t lurisbiction of Stmtt 
 
 (An address delivered to the students of the Cathedral Mia^ 
 sion College, Uh May 1872. By H. C. Dutt.) 
 
 SciEiijGB and Scripture are often thought to be at variance, 
 A belief in the conclusions of Science is supposed to be in- 
 compatible with a belief in the truths of Christianity. But 
 do we rightly estimate the jurisdiction of Science ? Scienti- 
 fic truths are not the only truths which have authority iu 
 this universe. Science cannot naodulate the workings of the 
 human heart. Mechanics tells us nothing about the soul, 
 or Algebra about God. The spirit of man sees further than 
 the telescope of the astronomer. No doubt Science is a 
 glorious tool in the hands of man, but it has also its theories 
 and its hypotheses which are made much too much of. One 
 scientific man invents a theory to account for certain phe- 
 nomena in nature, and another rejects it and supplants it with 
 his own. Yet each in its time or turn bears the general 
 nom de guerre, Science. The unseen world which we feel with 
 our hearts and imaginations, the God whom we call Father, 
 the holy Scriptures which we believe as true, are not subject 
 to the domain and jurisdiction of Science. We know that 
 gcientific men who are infidels will accuse us of begging 
 the question. But we might just as well retort this charge 
 upon themselves. To believe that any thing exists outside 
 our thoughts is in itself an act of faith. What is there to 
 prove that all the things that we see around us are not visible 
 aud tangible portraiture^ of our own thoughts, or that we exigt 
 
( 51 ) 
 
 at all and do not merely think that we exist ? Nothing, 
 All our reasonings would be essentially erroneous and defec- 
 tive if we left out of them altogether the important element 
 of faith. Yet faith is not credulity, nor superstition, nor 
 foolishness. Nay, it is the very opposite of all these* 
 Because I believe that by taking ship I can in about forty 
 days reach an island where during certain months of the 
 year the water of tanks and rivers becomes so solidified that 
 one may walk over it with ease, it by no means follows that 
 I believe all that happened to Sinbad the sailor in his seven 
 celebrated voyages. Because I am a worshipper of the Lord 
 Christ it by no means follows that I worship the avatars 
 described in the Hindu Pantheon. Because I admit the 
 possibility, nay probability, of spiritual agencies and in- 
 fluences it by no means follows that I credit all the absurd 
 ghost-stories invented to frighten or cozen children* Because 
 I believe in a God it by no means follows that I accept all 
 sorts of ideas about Him — *Vedantic, Buddhistic, Brahmic* 
 Faith is discriminative. Faith is wise. Faith is firm. Faith 
 is everlasting. '^ Faith is the substance of things hoped for, 
 the evidence of things not seen." 
 
 That Science has a jurisdiction subordinate to true religion 
 will be patent even from this simple fact. Natural philosophy 
 traces all external phenomena to Force or Law, whereas religion 
 ascribes them to Force or Law guided by a Supreme Will. 
 Thus the true religionist stands on a higher platform than 
 the mere scientific man, and his view is therefore more far- 
 reaching. Again, the physiologist declares that all feeling is 
 inseparably bound up with the convolutions of the brain and 
 with nerve-centres. But though a definite thought has its 
 corresponding molecular action in the brain, no other relation 
 
( 52 ) 
 
 can be traced by him between the two things than their simul- 
 taneity. He cannot therefore have any thing to say against 
 a soul or impalpable spiritual body. True religion does not 
 deny that thought and form in man are closely connected 
 with one another. On the contrary it seems to support the 
 theory. It speaks of the resurrection of the body, of a 
 spiritual body to be eliminated out of the decayed or decaying 
 elements of the gross body, and thus, like a higher court, 
 adds to and confirms the deduction of Science. 
 
 The central truth of Christianity is beyond the jurisdiction 
 of Science. ^* God manifest in the flesh" is a truth which 
 Science dare not presume to analyse or explain scientifically. 
 We may prove the possibility, the necessity, and the glory 
 which await upon this truth. But we cannot by any means 
 subject it to the test of the alembic. The chemist will shew 
 that oxygen and hydrogen in fitting proportions with the 
 combining touch of electricity form water, but what know we 
 of God and of man to be able to shew how ^Hhe Word was 
 made flesh and dwelt among us." It would be the very 
 height of foolishness to attempt to do so. No. It is a truth 
 which soars far above the domain of human science. It is a 
 truth which flows down from heaven to earth in eddies of 
 light. It is a truth which has heights inaccessible and depths 
 unfathomable by the mightiest intellects yet pervaded by a 
 divine simplicity which a "wayfaring man, though a fool," 
 need not be at a loss to apprehend. It is a truth which shall 
 encompass the whole earth in wave-like undulations, casting 
 down all the strong-holds of superstition and triumphing 
 over all the shoals and quick-sands of error. It is trans 
 cendentally glorious, expansive as the open horizon and 
 serene a§ the pure blue ^ky. 
 
( 53 ) 
 
 Such also is that otlier truth, the truth of theChristian doctrine 
 of atonement. It occupies an elevation whose height cannot 
 be reached by the demonstration of the geometrician, or the 
 telescope of the astronomer. Truly, faith has wings of 
 mighty power. It mounts to the regions of the unseen and 
 the eternal. Human laws know nothing about the punish- 
 ment of the innocent for the guilty, in fact ignore and 
 repudiate the very idea. But the glory of Christianity 
 is that ^/ while we were yet sinners Christ died for us." The 
 glory of Christianity is that human justice is not its emulative 
 standrad. The glory of Christianity is that the righteous 
 God, the Creator, veihng his God-head, undertook upon 
 Himself the punishment that his fallen creatures deserved, 
 that out of love He made atonement for the sins of mankind 
 and thus magnified His own eternal law. 
 
 " A humble form the God-head wore 
 
 The pains of poverty He bore 
 
 To gaudy pomp unknown, 
 
 Though in a human walk He trod, 
 
 Still was the man Ahnighty God 
 
 In glory all His own. 
 
 Despised, oppressed, the God-head bears 
 
 The torments of this vale of tears, 
 
 Nor bids His vengeance rise ; 
 
 He saw the creatures he had made 
 
 Kevile His power. His peace invade, 
 
 He saw with mercy's eyes." 
 
 Who among you then would be so foolish as to reject 
 Christianity because its main truths cannot be proved 
 scientifically ? Are they not beyond the jurisdiction of 
 . Science ? Is righteousness a fluid or a gas that we should 
 be able to subject it to chemical processes ? Has man's 
 moral nature veins and arteries that we should be able to 
 diggect it anatomically ? Is eternity time that we should be 
 
( 54 ) 
 
 able to measure it by the imperfect horologes by which 
 we measm-e a day ? " The healthy understanding/' says one 
 of England's greatest thinkers, '^ is not the logical, argumenta- 
 tive, but the intuitive ; for the end of understanding is not to 
 prove and find reasons, but to know and believe." 
 
 Eegarding the discrepancies between some of the less 
 salient truths of Christianity and the conclusions of Science^ 
 so called, which are ever and anon cropping up and occupying 
 the attention both of the religious and scientific worlds, 1 
 cannot here speak at any length.* The author of the 
 *^ Vestiges of the Natural History of Creation," Sir Charles 
 Lyell, Darwin, and others are among the ranks opposed to 
 the Bible. Though most of them do not profess to be open 
 enemies of Christianity, they have collected data and drawn 
 conclusions from those data, which if received as correct, 
 destroy the credibility of the Mosaic account of the Creation. 
 I have said I cannot enter upon a consideration of the 
 difi'erences now. 
 
 But I maintain that they are satisfactorily accounted for 
 even by an admission of our imperfect understanding of the 
 holy Scriptures and our imperfect knowledge of true Science* 
 They are seeming discrepancies, and nothing more. The 
 light of true Eeligion and the light of true Science proceed 
 from one and the same God, and will eventually coalesce and 
 shine unto the perfect day, and " God shall be all in all." 
 
 Have I depreciated Science ? By no means. I admit 
 that Science even in its imperfect and progressive state is 
 accumulating its benefits on man. It has prolonged life, 
 
 * The Saturday afteruoou address at the C. M, College is usually res- 
 tricted to fifteen minutes. 
 
( 55 ) 
 
 mitigated pain, annihilated distance, tamed the restless sea 
 into a bearer of burdens, converted barren wastes into fruitful 
 fields, circulated thought with the rapidity of thought itself, 
 peered into the skies, dived into the depths of the earth, 
 numbered the constellations, measured inaccessible heights, 
 forestalled the winds, entrapped the subtle element of light 
 even into its service, and made flowers to burst from their 
 clod-beds with more enduring colors. New discoveries, new 
 inventions are adding daily to our comforts and delectation, 
 and bringing those comforts within easy reach of the poor. 
 But over and above all this, Science rightly studied has 
 an index-hand which points to the Great Creator. It is 
 not for me to depreciate Science or to dissuade you from 
 the study of the sciences. Science has its own jurisdiction. 
 ^^ Thus far shalt thou go and no further." Try to be 
 sceintific men, eminent scientific men if you can, but never 
 forget that Science is the band-maid of Religion, 
 
 Christ ui fort|. 
 
 (An address delivered to the students of the Cathedral Mission 
 College, 28th August 1875. % H. C, Dutt.) 
 
 Jacob Boehme, the well-known German philosopher and 
 mystic, accounts for the origin of evil in the following manner : 
 He believes that thig world was originally the glorious and 
 
( 56 ) 
 
 celestial kingdom of Lucifer and his angels wlio were once 
 holy and ha^Dpy. Lucifer was the chief, but thinking it de- 
 gradation to rule under sub-tenure to God, who is the 
 Supreme, he tried to usurp authority and become independent. 
 In this attempt he fell, and with him his angels, and his once 
 glorious kingdom was shattered to chaos. The light and 
 love of God being withdrawn, the fallen angels had nothing 
 left in them but the fierce elements of fire, and wrath, and 
 pride, and covetousness, and envy, and every hateful emotion 
 of self-hood. On this ruined kingdom of Lucifer the mercy of 
 God descended as we read in our Scriptures. 
 
 In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. 
 
 And the earth was without form and void : and darkness 
 ivas upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved 
 upon the face of the waters. 
 
 And God said let there be light and there was light. 
 
 But the original possessors still endeavour to establish a 
 right to the domain, and for this end exercise a very great 
 but lamentable influence in stimulating human passions and 
 swaying human beings who are placed in their fallen king- 
 dom, to revolt from the authority of God. 
 
 I shall leave you to decide how far honest Jacob Boehme's 
 views are correct. But you will, I hope, admit that we as 
 human beings are in a state of alienation from God. We 
 cannot of our ownselves act or think in a way pleasing to 
 God. Each individual is after an illusion, chasing some 
 fancied good, which, after all, may be no good at all. Some 
 are for intellectual eminence, some for a great name, some 
 for money-making, some for the pleasures of sense, some for 
 sight-seeing, and so forth. The Yogis and Eishis of our 
 country wanted to reyerse gomewhat the order of things, and 
 
( 57 ) 
 
 to secure divine illumination by self-inflicted torments, but 
 this was another illusion, and a very deadly one too. Seeing 
 then that we cannot act in a way pleasing to God, that every 
 one is gone out of the way, that all the thoughts and imagi- 
 nations of our hearts are corrupt, that evil surrounds us and 
 works within us, we naturally seek for help, and this help is 
 vouchsafed to us in the Christian plan of Salvation. 
 
 Some eighteen hundred and more years ago there lived a 
 man in Judea named Christ Jesus. The history of his life 
 or ministry is fully set forth in four books which we call the 
 Gospels, Looking into these and into certain other writings 
 known as the Epistles and Revelation, we trace the origin of 
 the existing Christian Church and the final destiny of 
 nations. And not only this, but we trace therein such mani- 
 fest proofs of God's holiness, of God's justice, of God's good- 
 ness, and of God's mercy, that we accept the writings as 
 divinely inspired. The plan of Salvation and the way of life 
 are clearly set forth in these writings, 
 
 Adam was created in a state of innocency and placed in 
 the Garden of Eden as the representative of the whole human 
 race. We were all in him when he fell. He fell, and ^' in 
 Adam" we are told "all die." (1 Cor. 15. 22). Now somo 
 of you will say why should we, innocent fellows, suffer for 
 the guilt or sin of Adam ; we were not even in existence at 
 the time. Adam ate the fruit why should w« feel its after 
 effects? — the pain, the misery, and the death. But let me 
 tell you, or whoever these questioners or cavillers may be, 
 that it is presumptuous thus to murmur against God. You 
 might as well say why does God permit ^ evil ' to exist in the 
 world. But we know that evil does exist, and God is not 
 bound to give account of his matters to any. Well, Adam 
 
 H 
 
( 58 ) 
 
 fell. The world was ruined. For as his family, generation 
 after generation, evolved out of him, each one possessed his 
 father's fallen nature, for who can bring a clean thing out of 
 an unclean ? the world was ruined. But God loved the 
 world, and would not leave it in a state of ruination. It 
 pleased Him to stake it on another man who won back what 
 the first man lost. St. Paul tells us that the first man is of 
 the earth earthy, only a man though created without sin, yet a 
 mere creature ; the second Man is the Lord from Heaven. 
 He was God and man, " Go J manifest in the flesh." 
 (1 Tim. 3. 16.) Therefore He stood. And as all the family 
 of Adam died in him, so all the family of God live in 
 Christ. The believer belongs to both families. He lost his 
 caste in Adam, he regains it in Christ. (So after all you see 
 there is something about a caste question, though we know 
 nothing of the orders sanctioned by Bullal.) He is born into 
 Adam's family, heir to all his guilt, and misery, and corrup- 
 tion ; he is received into the family of God through Christ 
 Jesus (who is unto him wisdom and righteousness and sanc- 
 tification and redemption), and thus becomes an heir to life, 
 glory, and immortality, a very child of God. In Adam 
 completely fallen, in Christ completely saved. In Adam 
 completely sinful, in Christ completely righteous. 
 
 This then, my friends, is the Redemption wrought for us 
 in Christ Jesus. Will you then, while accepting the progres- 
 sive tendencies of the age in every direction, discard the 
 pearl of great price ! Would you not rather sell all you have 
 and buy it, give up if need be all ideas of worldly advance- 
 ment and worldly aggrandisement to become a disciple oi the 
 meek and lowly Jesus ! The longest life is but a day, a grain 
 of san(}, a drop in the ocean, an insignificant unit in the 
 
( 59 ) 
 
 equation of existence. But heaven is everlasting, and hell 
 is everlasting, and eternity is everlasting, and God is ever- 
 lasting, and the Redemption wrought for us is everlasting. 
 Time flies and the chances of your being converted and be- 
 coming new creatures in Christ can only become less and less 
 till on the brink of time and eternity you stand either a ruined 
 or a made man, a child of wrath or a child of love ! I speak 
 as to wise men : Judge ye what I say. 
 
 Finally, my friends, the Scriptures tell us that not many 
 wise men after the flesh, not many mighty, not many noble, 
 are called, but God hath chosen the foolish things of the 
 world to confound the wise, and God hath chosen the weak 
 things of the world to confound the things which are mighty, 
 and base things of the world and things which are despised 
 hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not to bring to 
 nothing things which are, so that no flesh may glory in his 
 presence. In this God in Christ exercises his sovereign 
 prerogative of mercy according to the good pleasure of his 
 own will. We commonly select things on account of some 
 natural aptitude for the purposes which they are to subserve, 
 we never take an ugly, cross-grained, or worm-eaten piece of 
 timber to make a pillar of state. But with God it is other- 
 wise. He accepts as his own, and as his own by specialty, 
 the poor, base, weak, foolish things of the world, the worst 
 of men and chief of sinners. The instances of King David, 
 of Paul, Mary Magdalene, and others, make this evident. 
 And of such he is pleased to form vessels of honor, to be trans- 
 fixt each in its right niche, standing columns in the house of 
 God, whereon to inscribe in golden letters his own name, to 
 manifest thereby his sovereignty, holiness, wisdom, power, 
 righteousness, and free grace to Eternity ! 
 
itorgt f '^inkise. 
 
 (From the French of Monsr. Alex. Delavergne,) 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 1473. 
 
 It was one of the noble houses of Touraine, the house of 
 the ancestors of Amboise, lords of Chaumont-sur- Loire. 
 Pierre d' Amboise, the chief of that house in the fifteenth 
 century, long a hardy captain, distinguished himself by high 
 feats of arms during the reign of Charles VII. He was 
 one of those who were chiefly instrumental in establishing 
 that monarch on his throne and in chasing his foes from 
 his realms, and had retired laden with honors and dignities 
 to his Chateau de Chaumont for ending his days in peace, 
 and superintending the education of a numerous progeny 
 which his faithful wife Anne du Bueil had given him. He 
 had seventeen children, eight sons and nine daughters, most 
 of whom were living and in health in 1473. One day the 
 old captain, used to the fatigues of war, feeling probably 
 that his end was not distant, sent for his sons and addressed 
 them in the following terms : 
 
 " My sons, you have up to this time conducted yourselves 
 like gentlemen of high lineage, always occupied with horses, 
 with arms, with falcons and with hunting, and I, young in 
 mind though old in age, am most unwilling to withdraw you 
 from these noble exercises ; but the time has almost come 
 when it will be necep^ary for you to bid adieu to the hou3e 
 
( 01 ) 
 
 of your fathers, to the woods, to the fields, and to the 
 beautiful river Loire, in order to go to Paris and present 
 yourselves at the palace of the king your sire, and offer your 
 services to him as become gentlemen. The time is come, 
 my sons. But alas, I presumed too much upon the mercy 
 of Divine Providence in thinking that I shall be permitted 
 to throw myself at the feet of the king and present you 
 myself. The wounds which my enemies inflicted have re- 
 moved from me all my strength. It is but with a trembling 
 hand that I could trace the letter supplicating the King 
 Louis XI. to excuse an old servant of his father and 
 offering him your services. The king did not make me wait 
 for a reply. Look here !" 
 
 The Knight d' Amboise produced from his cincture a parch- 
 ment sealed with the arms of France, and when, at a sign 
 of his hand, his sons had approached according to the order 
 of primogeniture, and had touched it with their lips, he 
 opened it with solemn carefulness, and read with a grave 
 voice, broken down by age and emotion, as follows : — 
 
 " Louis, the Eleventh by name, by the grace of God King 
 of France, to his friend and faithful Chamberlain Pierre 
 d' Amboise, lord of Chaumont, of Saint Cernin, and of other 
 places, saluting. 
 
 Our very dear Chamberlain ! We have received with 
 pleasure your faithful letter, and lose no time in replying to 
 it. We accept with open heart the offer which you have 
 made us to consecrate to our royal service the eight sons 
 with which heaven has blessed you, and, confiding in your 
 proved loyalty and disinterestedness, we leave to your judg- 
 ment the care of distributing among your children the offices, 
 rank and honors, which the late King Charles VII., our father 
 
( G2 ) 
 
 of blessed memory, had been pleased to bestow on you, reserv- 
 ing to ourselves the power of ratifying by our, sanction all the 
 dispositions which you might be pleased to make in the 
 matter. Whereupon our faithful and beloved subject, let us 
 pray to God that He keep you under His guardianship. 
 
 Executed in our royal hall of Tournelles on Thursday, the 
 10th April, of the year 1473. 
 
 Louis. 
 
 ^^ Now then," added Amboise, ^^ listen to what I have re- 
 solved, in order to conform myself as much as in me lies to 
 the wishes of his majesty the king ; unto you, Charles, 
 who are the eldest, I give and bequeath my office of Eoyal 
 Chamberlain ; you Aimery, who are the second, I give and 
 bequeath unto you the office of Grand Master of France, 
 under this condition that you will proceed to the island of 
 Rhodes and be among the Knights of the Order of St. John 
 of Jerusalem in order to undergo there your novitiate ; you 
 Pierre, who are the third, I give and bequeath unto you 
 my company of 200 armed men." Thus, when he had come 
 to the turn of the eighth and last of his sons, a child of 
 thirteen years, with a physiognomy full of intelligence and 
 vivacity, the old lord of Chaumont emitted a deep sigh and 
 cried — " As for you George, there remains for me nothing 
 more to bestow ; consequently my desire is that you enter the 
 sacred order." 
 
 Here the Knight of Amboise made a pause for examining 
 the impression which his words had made on his auditors. 
 All eyes were fixed with interest on the young boy who, to 
 the surprise of his brothers, did not betray the least sign of 
 trouble or disappointment on his features ; then, following 
 their father's example, they knelt and devoutly recited their 
 
( 63 ) 
 
 orisons. These concluded, the old captain, rising up with 
 some effort, ensconced himself in his great arm-chair of 
 sculptured oak, and thus terminated the conference with 
 words which sounded like a solemn bell to the ears of his 
 listeners : — " My sons, you have heard the wishes of the 
 king by my mouth. Be you ready and depart early at break 
 of day." All bowed respectfully and separated. 
 
 The next morning, at break of day, they presented them- 
 selves again in the chamber of their father, and, after having 
 received his benediction and his injunction to shew them- 
 selves in all circumstances of life worthy of the high name 
 they bore, mounted their horses in the court-yard of the 
 castle. They were disposing themselves in order for passing 
 the gate, when they met the son of the head butler of the 
 castle, hat in hand and tears in his eyes. This young man 
 had often joined in their sports, and had now come out to bid 
 them farewell. 
 
 ^* John," said the eldest, as his horse gaily caracoled in 
 his sight, "will you come with me to the court? I shall 
 make you one of my esquires." 
 
 " No, master," replied the vassal, '^ I am the son of a 
 servant, and am not fit for the court. God protect my good 
 master." 
 
 " John," cried the second, " you speak with reason. Come 
 after me and see the Grand Master of the Order of St. John 
 of Jerusalem in the island of Rhodes. I shall see that you 
 are received into one of the galleys of the order, belonging 
 to the militia. You will be a soldier and afterwards captain." 
 
 " No, master," again replied the vassal. ^' How can I 
 become a man of war, I, who am not able to see the death of a 
 stag without shedding tears. God protect my good master." 
 
( 64 ) 
 
 Charles and Aimery and all the brothers havmg passed, 
 with the exception of George, who was absorbed in something 
 like a reverie during the foregoing dialogues, and seemed to 
 pay no attention to them, the butler's son stood before him 
 and said : — 
 
 " And you, my young master, how would you dispose of 
 me ? Will you permit me to march in your company ?" 
 
 George gazed at his interlocutor with a puzzled countenance, 
 and the two brothers, Charles and Aimery, retracing their 
 grounds in order to be near the speaker, laughed heartily, and 
 one of them added ironically — " And what would you, my 
 poor John, that our brother the abbe will make of you ? per- 
 haps a sacristan or a brother of the Mass ? " '^ That is all I 
 want," replied the vassal with vivacity. 
 
 And taking up from the ground his baton and his knap- 
 sack, he prepared himself to follow the young abbe on the 
 instant. 
 
 George blushed, shook himself on his stirrups, and having 
 shot a fiery glance at his brothers, cried — 
 
 " Come, John, you have done well to follow me. My star 
 is more brilliant than that of any of my brothers'. I bear 
 under my cloak the destiny of the world." 
 
 He then added in a lower tone and in a mysterious manner 
 — " I dreamt last night that I was the Pope." 
 
 Charles and Aimery laughed again, this time much louder 
 than before, and recommenced their advance. George was not 
 slow to join them. They were all on the same road for a 
 time, but as it branched off', each took a last look of the 
 towers of Chaumont, kissed the others, and went on his 
 appointed way. 
 
( 65 ) 
 
 CHArTER II. 
 
 1494. 
 
 All the steeple-bells of the city of Rouen pealed merrily, 
 the streets were strewn with flowers, and the houses were 
 hung with rich tapestries. A joyous crowd in holiday dresses 
 reached up to the gates of the city and beyond the ram- 
 parts ; all the clergy of the metropolis, the sheriffs, and the 
 association of tradespeople and merchants were waiting. 
 For whom ? Mayhap for the King of France, or for the first 
 prince of the blood, the Duke of Orleans, Governor of the 
 province, or at least for the Legate of the Holy See. But 
 no ? Charles VIII. was in Italy, and his cousin, the Duke 
 of Orleans, had followed him thither ; the Holy See was in a 
 state of flagrant hostility with the kingdom of France, and 
 this honor cannot therefore be for the legate ; — all waited to 
 receive simple George D'Amboise. 
 
 Many events had happened during the intervening twenty 
 years. At first fortune was unfavorable to our young abbe 
 who, while chaplain to Louis XL, had excited the suspicions 
 of that dark monarch. Subsequently, when Charles VIII. 
 had succeeded his father, George D'Amboise, associated 
 with the ambitious projects of the Duke of Orleans, shared 
 his captivity, and was on the point of losing his head by the 
 hand of the common executioner. At last, after many vicis- 
 situdes, the wheel of the capricious goddess turned. He 
 regained the favor of Charles, and was now about to ex- 
 change the petty bishopric of Narbonne for the diocese of 
 Rouen and title of Primate of Normandy ; it was on this 
 same day that he came to the possession of the riches and 
 privileges which attached to thifs ccclcgiastical dignity. 
 
( 66 ) 
 
 After having traversed the city amid the acclamations of 
 the crowd and vapours of incense which they burned on both 
 sides of his passage, the new Archbishop, flushed with 
 triumph, stopped before the splendid palace which was to serve 
 as his residence, and perceived, among a number of faithful 
 people who had come to prostrate themselves at the gate for 
 obtaining his blessing,^ a man of tall stature, dressed in a 
 costume half ecclesiastical and half secular, hiding his face 
 with his hands as if in deep emotion. He was the only one 
 who was not kneeling, at which the others murmured, and 
 some loud voices cried in a menacing tone — ^^ On your knees, 
 man ! On your knees, pagan ! On your knees, impious." On 
 hearing these exclamations he, to whom they were addressed, 
 hastened to comply, and, in doing so, one of his hands fell 
 and partially discovered his countenance. George D'Amboise 
 recognized with surprise John, the son of the butler of 
 Chaumont castle, of whom he had lost sight during his 
 captivity. Immediately advancing, he took hold kindly 
 of his hand, introduced him with the suite into the interior 
 of the palace, and recommended him to the care of the 
 servants. 
 
 When all the brilliant cortege, which accompanied George 
 D'Amboise on coming to his new possessions, had retired, the 
 prelate, being alone, sent for his ancient companion of the 
 road, and, after having embraced him with the utmost tender- 
 ness, said— 
 
 " Ah ! my good John, you see you were not mistaken 
 when twenty years ago you determined to follow me in pre- 
 ference to my brothers. You see me Archbishop of Rouen, 
 and I do not mean to rest there. Know, that Cassar Borgia, 
 nephew of the Soyereiga PontifiF, hag promised me in hig last 
 
( 07 ) 
 
 letter a CarJiiiars hat, so sometime, soon or late, my dream 
 will be accomplished, and I shall be Pope." 
 
 All the response which John gave was tears. 
 
 " What is it afflicts yon, John"? asked the prelate. " Is 
 it money ? I am rich, and my purse is at your service. Are 
 you afraid that you have offended by separating yourself from 
 me when fortune was against me ? I have forgotten all now 
 that she smiles. I need an attendant as faithful as you have 
 been, and I do not wish that you should quit me any more." 
 
 " Excuse me, my lord," said the son of the butler of 
 Chaumont, " I do not belong to myself, but am in the service 
 of a community which has received my vows." 
 
 " There is no community in France so powerful that George 
 D'Amboise will not be able to dissolve the vows you might 
 have made to it." 
 
 " Alas ! my lord, I do not desire it myself — give ear unto 
 what I have to say. I came to Kouen not to witness your 
 triumphal entry, nor to ask from you any grace or favor ; it 
 was only to see you once more before I die : I wished not 
 even that I should be recognized by you, because I knew 
 well that being recognized, I should feel great pain in leaving 
 you. Excuse my boldness my lord, but when I betook my- 
 self to religion after your example, it. was for my salvation. 
 I had no other ambition than to serve you in the Mass (you 
 whom I love so well) even to the end of your days. But 
 you would not have it so, and* loved better to become a prince 
 of the Church. Heaven protect you in all your undertakings 
 my lord, but I do not wish to be more than its humble ser- 
 vant here on earth. I am happy in my poor convent. Allow 
 me to return thither, and I shall pray to God for you to the 
 last hour of my life." 
 
t 68 ) 
 
 On hearing these words George D'Amboise became thought- 
 ful and pensive for some moments, and after a short silence 
 rejoined with a voice trembling with emotion, ^' Brother, it 
 is God who speaks by thy mouth, and I shall not allow you 
 to part thus ; I wish you to see me to-morrow, and speak 
 the same language which I have heard just now, and on which 
 may depend the salvation of my soul ; I wish to sleep this 
 night meditating on your words, then, brother, we may part 
 in peace." 
 
 The next morning John presented himself, but the prelate 
 was not visible, engaged probably in writing letters to 
 Csesar Borgia for the accomplishment of the promise of a 
 Cardinal's hat. Others assisted John in distributing to the 
 poor the purse of silver which he had received from his 
 master, and in putting off the rich clothes which, as enjoined 
 in the palace, he had to wear. 
 
 A few hours afterwards, on the road not far from Rouen, 
 could be seen a figure in a costume half ecclesiastical and 
 half secular, a stick in his hand and a wallet on his back, 
 casting at times a furtive look at the city which he was leav- 
 ing. It was brother John returning to his humble duties. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 1510. 
 
 One evening, in the month of May 1510, the gate of the 
 convent of the Celestines at Lyons was knocked with violence, 
 and as the brother in charge was slow in opening it, se- 
 veral voices from without cried — 
 
 " Help ! help ! open quickly to my lord the Cardinal, 
 firgt minister, who is in danger of his life." 
 
( 69 ) 
 
 At these cries, and as the venerated name was pronounced, 
 the gate turned quickly on its hinges, and a litter was intro- 
 duced into the convent. He whom it contained was carried 
 to a cell, the best that could be found, and after the medi- 
 cines had been administered which his state urgently need- 
 ed, a brother was searched out to take charge of the illus- 
 trious patient, who had fallen into a profound slumber, no 
 doubt a salutary crisis in the malady. The brother thus 
 entrusted with this important duty, had been roused hastily 
 from bed, and found himself in that state, physically and 
 mentally, which one may call neither waking nor sleep, and 
 partook somewhat of the conditions of either. For it was 
 not long after his introduction into the cell that he slipped 
 mechanically from a doze to that profound slumber which 
 had been so rudely interrupted, on the stool beside the 
 patient's pillow. At about midnight the Cardinal awoke so 
 as to be able to look about him, and by the dim light of the 
 lamp which was burning, contemplated with interest the 
 serenity and happiness which rested on the face of the sleep- 
 ing attendant ; then rousing himself more fully as old re- 
 membrances thronged in his mind, he seemed to see in that 
 face and in that capacious brow (now furrowed with a few 
 wrinkles) the countenance of an ancient friend. He seized 
 the attendant's hand and asked his name. 
 
 " My name is Brother John," said the man in accents 
 hardly intelligible or audible. 
 
 " John of Chaumont-sur-Loire" ? 
 
 " The same you know me then" ? 
 
 " Ah," said the prelate with grief, " you have been a good 
 deal changed, my good John, not to recognize George 
 D'Amboise." The monk gave a cry, and fixing his eyes 
 
( 70 ) 
 
 with surprise on the pale visage of the patient, fell on his 
 knees. 
 
 " What is the matter, brother V asked the Cardinal. 
 
 ^^ I pray heaven and you, my lord, to pardon me for having 
 quitted so good a master. '^ 
 
 ^^ Ungrateful !'' said the Cardinal smiling, after having 
 raised himself 'a little. ^' Were you not happy at the Arch- 
 bishopric !" I ordered that you should be treated there like 
 my own self." 
 
 " Alas ! my lord, that was too good for me. What could 
 I do among your luxurious clergy and your brilliant gentle- 
 men. I rested at Rouen to see you, to speak to you, and 
 I was interdicted from appearing in your presence. I liked 
 better returning to the cloister, where I may see God whenever 
 I please and speak to Him whenever I please. 
 
 '' Then you are happy here"? 
 
 '^ Yes, my lord, because I am exempt from ambition and 
 from care ; what I did yesterday I do to-day, and what I do 
 to-day I will do to-morrow, till it please the Lord to take me 
 hence." 
 
 '' What have you to do" ? 
 
 ^^ I pray to God and attend on my sick brothers." 
 
 ''That is hard work." 
 
 ** O no, because the sick are so few, and I feel so glad 
 when they get well." 
 
 At this instant the voice of a trumpet resounded in the 
 city. 
 
 " Wliat is that"? said our lay brother, ^^ what is it which 
 causes such a loud fanfaron at this unseasonable hour ?" The 
 Cardinal raised himself on his bed almost involuntarily, and 
 a crimson flush appeared on his tired cheeks,, where one could 
 
( 71 ) 
 
 trace the symptoms of approaching dissolution. With some 
 emphasis he articulated, ^* That, John ! that is the King of 
 France ! He and his nobles have reached Lyons, and will 
 part to-morrow, if it please God, to chastise Pope Julius II. 
 who has robbed me of the tiara. 
 
 ** That's true," replied frankly the religieuse, '^ I remember 
 now that you wished to be Pope." 
 
 George D'Amboise, fixing his eyes on the speaker and 
 holding him by the hand, said with an air of undefinable 
 sadness. — 
 
 " Brother Johrij alas ! that I have not been all my life 
 Brother John /" 
 
 A few days after this conversation, on the twenty-fifth May 
 1510, died in the same cell, and in the arms of the brother, 
 the powerful Cardinal D'Amboise. His body was removed 
 with great pomp into the Cathedral at Rouen, where it was 
 buried in a magnificent tomb of marble, which is the admi- 
 ration of all up to the present day ; but his heart rested in 
 the Convent of the Celestines, where he had refound Brother 
 John. Though during his life-time he had not shared the 
 humble lot of that faithful rcligieuse, yet after death he 
 shared his tomb. 
 
POEMS-RELIGIOUS. 
 
%luk 
 
 (A Dramatic Fragment.) 
 
 Ahab, — King of Israel. Benhadad, 
 
 Jezebel. — The queen. Naboth. 
 
 Elijah Jehoshaphat. 
 
 Obadiah. Micaiah, 
 
 Prophets^ Soldiers, Messengers, ^c. 
 
 Scene /. — The lawn before the ivory palace at Jezreel with 
 its carved window overlooking the vast plain of Esdrae- 
 lon, Carmel and other mountainous elevations at a dis^ 
 
 tance. Time, evening, Jezebel alone sumptuously 
 
 appareled... 
 
 Jezebel. 
 
 They call me proud 
 
 Nay, I am not proud — my father Ethbaal 
 Never crossed a wish of mine — he made me 
 What I am, and I — I am Ahab's queen, 
 Queen of proud Israel loth to bow the neck 
 To Baal. But I shall see her tamed — I must. 
 These groves of olive and of ilex round 
 The rocks on which stand Israel's altars shall 
 Kesound with praises of my father's gods 
 Baalim and Ashtaroth ! E'en now the jfirst 
 In glorious vestments clad sinks out of sight, 
 Leaving a trail of brightness on yon clouds 
 And yonder western hills. I love these clouds, 
 
( 7G ) 
 
 I love these silent hills, for they have charmed 
 
 Me oft with their transcendent loveliness ! 
 
 Two rays, two mystic rays from yon hill-top 
 
 Seem darting towards me now, the one it says 
 
 Jezebel, thou art beautiful thyself, 
 
 The other says have courage, queen, and rule 
 
 With iron will. These messengers are Baal's ; 
 
 I know it, feel it. But soft, who comes here ? 
 
 A hairy man erect and tall, with beard 
 
 That flows down to his girdle, clad in skin. 
 
 His eyes are darting fire — the very sight 
 
 Makes me afraid — I will retire and send 
 
 The king to meet him. 
 
 (Betires into the palace,) 
 
 Ahah confronted with Elijah. 
 Elijah. 
 As the Lord liveth. 
 
 No rain shall fall from heaven, but parching drought 
 
 Shall suck up all the moisture from the clods 
 
 Hardening to stone the plastic element ; 
 
 Nor grain nor grass shall grow, and the cattle 
 
 On your plains and hills shall bleat for pasture ; 
 
 Rivers and water-sheets shall be dried up 
 
 And turned to arid wastes, and hundreds die 
 
 Of thirst. Beware King ! — Thus saith my God 
 
 Jehovah, Israel's God, and by my mouth. 
 
 Him hast thou insulted. Him not feared. 
 
 But at the instigation of thy queen 
 
 Reared a high altar in the house of Baal. 
 
 Beware, O son of Omri ! Thou hajst dealt 
 
( 77 ) 
 
 Treacherously with the Lord arxd provoked 
 His wrath. I go. But what I say will come, 
 For He hath spoken. This sea of verdure 
 Which I see, now so full of sap and green, 
 Shall droop and die under a withering spell, 
 Nor shall the spring with breezes soft revive 
 Them into life, nor summer ripen them 
 To fruitfulness, nor autumnal tints paint 
 The sheaves for storing into granaries. 
 Beware ! Beware ! — — 
 
 Scene II, — A dreary wild near the banks of the Jordan^ with 
 heath and juniper hushes here and there. Further on^ 
 naked rocks and forests terminating in a deep and nar- 
 row glen overhung with tangled loood. Brook Cherith 
 winds its devious course along the rocky masses, 
 
 Elijah. 
 Yes, here I am, 
 
 The blue sky my awning, the grass my couch, 
 This stone my seat, the waters of this brook 
 My drink, those ravens up among the trees 
 My kind feeders. God's Spirit led me here. 
 God is my shepherd, and I shall not want. 
 God feeds the ravens and the ravens me. 
 And to that brother prophet, who brought out 
 Israel from Egypt, and to whom were given 
 The tablets of the law, hath He not said — 
 " I suffered thee to hunger, and fed thee 
 With manna which thy fathers did not know, 
 Nor doth man live by bread alone, but by 
 Each word that comcth from Mv mouth ? " 
 
( 78 ) 
 
 What If one of the bushes which I see 
 
 Were to ignite like the one in Horeb, 
 
 Would I be surer of His voice than now ? 
 
 O Jezebel ! Jezebel ! The prophets 
 
 Of the Lord hast thou without compunction 
 
 Cut off, till Obadiah hid the rest 
 
 By fifty in a cave, woe awaits thee ! 
 
 Now in this noon-day heat, the broad shadow 
 
 Of this rock my shelter, I shall lift up 
 
 My voice and chant the words which Balaam spake 
 
 Of yore — " God is not man that he should lie, 
 
 Neither the son of man that he repents. 
 
 Hath he said and shall he not do the same ? 
 
 The shout of a king is with him that fears 
 
 The Lord, and the strength of an unicorn 
 
 Is his." 
 
 Scene III. — A Chamber in the palace, Ahab and Obadiah, 
 
 Ahab. 
 
 — Three years — three long years have past, the seasons 
 
 Have returned and gone, yet no drop of rain ! 
 
 The thirsty glebes with mouths wide open lie 
 
 In unremitting fever and with nought 
 
 To satisfy their parched hps. It is 
 
 The curse of that wild man, Obadiah, 
 
 That has brought this sore famine on the land 
 
 With its attendant train of pestilence. 
 
 And havoc of men and beasts. Some more days, 
 
 And my fair kingdom will be but a pit, 
 
 A charnel-house for rotting carcases : 
 
 Go thou one way — I shall go another — 
 
( 79 ) 
 
 And should you chance to meet the man who thus 
 Doth trouble Israel, bring thou him to me, 
 And I shall see how his prophetic mood 
 May brook my royal presence. 
 
 Obadiah. 
 King, I obey, 
 
 But take good heed that in thy foolishness 
 
 Thou dost not add sin unto sin. The blood 
 
 Of the prophets thou hast slain already 
 
 Cries loud for vengeance — would you slay one more ? 
 
 Ahab. 
 
 Nay, I shall not slay him, 
 But he and the prophets of Baal shall meet. 
 And those that eat at Jezebel's table 
 Shall also be there, and then all shall see 
 Who conquers, Baal or God. 
 
 Obadiah. 
 
 King, I go. As you bid I go. 
 
 But I shall always honor God's prophets. 
 
 Scene IV. — The heights of Carmel. Elijah and the prophets 
 of Baal, ^c. 
 
 Elijah. 
 
 How long halt ye betwixt two opinions ? 
 If God be God folloysr him, if Baal then 
 
 Follow him 
 
 I, e'en I only remain a prophet 
 Of the Lord, but ye, the prophets of Baal, 
 Are four hundred and fifty men. Bring here 
 Two bullocks, choose ye one bullock 
 
( 80 ) 
 
 For yourselves, and cut in pieces, and put 
 No fire under ; I will dress the other, 
 And do likewise ; and call ye on the name 
 Of your gods, and I will call on the Lord, 
 And the God that answereth by fire, He is God, 
 
 Prophets of Baal. 
 Agreed ! Agreed ! 
 
 Ahab and his Courtiers. 
 
 It is well spoken. 
 
 Elijah. 
 
 Choose ye one bullock for yourselves and dress 
 It first, for ye are many. 
 
 So7}ie of the prophets of Baal rush out and bring in a dressed 
 bullock and wood to place it on. The meat is placed on 
 the wood. Then the prophets divide themselves into par^ 
 ties and cry continually — 
 
 " Baal hear us !" '' O Baal hear us !'' 
 
 Elijah. 
 
 Cry aloud, for he is a god. Either 
 He is talking, or pursuing, or on 
 Some journey, or peradventure he sleeps ; 
 Cry aloud for he is a god ! 
 
 Prophets. 
 Baal 1 Baal ! hear us. 
 
 Elijah. 
 It is the time of evening sacrifice, 
 Hath he not answered yet 1 
 
( 81 ) 
 
 Prophets. 
 
 (Discomfited.) 
 Nay, nay, 
 He has not answered. 
 
 Elijah. 
 
 Then come near unto me, ye people ; 
 
 Here I rebuild the altar of the Lord 
 
 That was broken down — with these twelve stones 
 
 Rebuild I it — the twelve tribes of Israel 
 
 Thus I honor and acknowledge. Now bring 
 
 The bullock and let me hew it on the wood ; 
 
 Fill four barrels with water and pour it 
 
 On the sacrifice and on the wood — do 
 
 It a second time, and once again — Fill 
 
 The trench with water — now stand back. 
 
 Lord ! whose throne is on the hills, 
 
 Whose sceptre rules the sea, 
 In feeble accents thus I raise 
 
 My suppliant prayer to thee. 
 Light sprung from gloom at thy command, 
 
 And stars bedecked the azure plain. 
 The earth its garniture revealed 
 
 Loud sang the billows of the main. 
 At thy command still through the year 
 
 The woods in varied garbs appear. 
 
 When clouds in dense battaHons lour. 
 
 And darkening tempests rave, 
 We call Thee by thy name of power, 
 
 For Thou alone cangt save — 
 
( 82 ) 
 
 Speak but the word — flash after flash 
 
 Shall light the drear abysmal deep ; 
 Speak but the word, and all at once 
 
 The warring winds subside and sleep, 
 Heaven's concave with Thy praises rings, 
 
 Lord of lords and King of kings ! 
 
 Lord ! the God of Abraham, 
 
 Here I pray this day 
 That fire fall on this sacrifice 
 
 And bear the parts away. 
 Upon the everlasting sky 
 
 No speck sails now, the earth, 
 Both Carmel heights and Sharon's plain, 
 
 Are sick to death for moisture-dearth — 
 Let fire fall on the sacrifice, 
 
 Thy glory pass before their eyes. 
 
 The fire of the Lord falls and consumes the sacrifice and the 
 wood and the stones and the dust licking up the water that 
 was in the trench. The people fall on their faces ^ saying, 
 
 " The Lord is God !" " The Lord, He is God !" 
 Elijah (to the people.) 
 
 Take, take, bind 
 
 The prophets of Baal, let not one escape, 
 
 And I myself will bring them to the brook 
 
 Kishon and slay them there. Hie thee, Ahab, 
 
 Back to thy palace, for I hear a sound 
 
 Of plenteous rain ; hie thee, from a speck 
 
 No bigger than a hand the rain will come 
 
 Till all the heavens are black with clouds and wind. 
 
( 83 ) 
 
 Scene V. — The Court of Ahab. — Ahab^ Obadiah and other 
 courtiers, 
 
 Obadiah. 
 
 The Syrian host hath covered all our plains, 
 
 And from the heights their tents appeared to me 
 
 Like troops of white-winged sea-birds ; I approached 
 
 And the busy hum of men belonging 
 
 To the kings in league, the clank of armour. 
 
 And the loud neighing of their mettled steeds, 
 
 Left not a doubt in what guise they come. King, 
 
 It is a terrible day for thee and all 
 
 Samaria ! 
 
 (Enter Messenger.) 
 
 Messenger. 
 
 My lord, an ambassador 
 
 From the king of Syria asks admittance. 
 
 Ahab. 
 
 Admit him without let or parley. I 
 
 Myself shall try to come to terms 
 
 (Exit Messenger.) 
 Enter Ambassador, 
 
 Ambassador. 
 
 Benhadad, King of Syria, thus through me 
 Speaks to the King of Israel. I have come 
 With horses and with chariots and with men 
 You may not count to besiege thy kingdom ; 
 
( 84 ) 
 
 Thou shall deliver up to me thy gold 
 
 And silver, thy wives and children, and all 
 
 That is most pleasant in thy eyes ; I send 
 
 My servants unto thee to-morrow, they 
 
 Shall search thine house and bring to me the best 
 
 Thou hast. Syria, whose puissant sway extends 
 
 From Taurus to Arabia, from Cydnus 
 
 To the Euphrates, shall number Israel 
 
 As its tributary. 
 
 Ahab. 
 
 These are proud words, these are hard conditions- 
 Hard conditions ! 
 
 Obadiah and the Courtiers. 
 
 King, agree not 
 
 To the least of them. But repel with scorn 
 
 The base insulting speech ; hundreds of youths 
 
 Still live in fair Samaria whose blood 
 
 Courseth with martial ardour through their veins, 
 
 Who willingly would sacrifice their lives 
 
 For thee and for their country, 
 
 Ahab. 
 
 Nay, I doubt not ; — 
 
 Bear my defiance then to Syria's king ; 
 
 Tell him Samaria never shall be his. 
 
 Tell him Samaria's youths shall meet his host 
 
 (Mighty though it be) in battle. Tell him 
 
 Our darts are keener edged than his, we wait 
 
 Upon the God of battles ! 
 
( 85 ) 
 
 Scene VI* — The queerCs led-chamler. Ahab reclining on a 
 royal bedstead^ Jezebel sitting near him. — 
 
 Ahab. 
 
 The Syrians have been defeated and routed 
 At Aphek yet I am not happy 1 — 
 How happy would I be if I possessed 
 Naboth's vineyard, that I may plant therein 
 Sweet herbs ; it's so near my palace, so near ! 
 I'd turn it to a garden and in the midst 
 Erect a summer-house o'er-lapped with leaves 
 And flowers, for thee and me, and at evening, 
 When birds are musical, we would sit there 
 And listen to their notes, and the lowing 
 Of the distant herds, and sip the grape-juice 
 From goblets rare, and take our fill of joy ! 
 There would we see the golden butterflies 
 Chase each other, and know what 'tis to love. 
 
 Jezebel, 
 My own dear Ahab ! 
 
 Ahab, 
 
 But Naboth is a covetous crusty rogue, 
 
 And does not yield ; he told me, " God forbid 
 
 That I should sell my father's heritage 
 
 To thee though thou be king." I felt his words 
 
 Like a bodkin pierce my soul, I gulped them 
 
 Ag a bitter draught, therefore am I gad. 
 
( 86 ) 
 
 Jezebel. 
 
 Ahab ! Dost govern Israel, 
 And say for this thou'rt sad ? foolish king, 
 Rise, eat bread, and let thy heart be merry, 
 I will give thee the vineyard of Naboth, 
 I will write letters in thy name, and seal 
 Them with thy seal, instructing the elders 
 And the nobles to bring false witnesses 
 Against the man that he has blasphemed God 
 And the king, and when the case is proved, they 
 Shall carry out and stone him that he die. 
 
 Ahab. 
 
 A woman's soul is stronger than a man's. 
 
 Jezebel. 
 Rise and eat, and let thy soul be merry. 
 
 Scene VII. — The vineyard of Naboth, Ahab and Elijah. 
 
 Elijah. 
 Thus saith the Lord, 
 
 Hast thou killed and also ta'en possession ? 
 There, where the doge licked the blood of Naboth, 
 Shall dogs lick thy blood, even thine. 
 
 Ahab, {aside.) 
 
 It is my old enemy Elijah, 
 He has found me out ! 
 
 Elijah. 
 
 Because thou hast sold thyself 
 
 To work evil in the sight of the Lord, 
 
( 87 ) 
 
 The Lord hath said " I will cut off thy heirs 
 And make thy house like unto the house of 
 Jeroboam son of Nebat, or like 
 The house of Baasha son of Ahijah, 
 For the provocation wherewith thou hast 
 Provoked me to anger and made Israel 
 To sin." Of Jezebel also spake He, saying 
 " The dogs shall eat Jezebel by the wall 
 Of Jezreel." Beware ! Beware ! 
 
 Scene VIII. — A void place in the entrance of the gate of 
 Samaria^ Ahah king of Israel and Jehoshaphat king 
 of Judah in their royal rohes sitting on two thrones. 
 Prophets, courtiers, messengers, ^c, ranged on either 
 side. 
 
 Ahab. 
 
 I told thee, brother-king, Kamoth-Gilead 
 Is ours, yet the Syrians keep it from us, 
 And all the prophets gathered here this day 
 Have said, Go up to battle, for the Lord 
 Shall deliver it into our hands. But 
 There is yet one man, Micaiah, who should 
 Be consulted, he never prophesies 
 Good concerning me, him have I sent for, 
 And he must say in this assemblage, what 
 He doth think of our intended raid. 
 
 Jehoshaphat. 
 
 I am as thou art, my men as thy men, 
 My horses as thy horge.s. 
 
( 88 ) 
 
 One of the prophets, Zedekiah, the son of Chenanahj with two 
 horns of iron on his forehead, darts out from the crowd 
 and presents himself before Ahab, saying — 
 
 " Thus saith the Lord 
 With these thou shalt push the Syrians until 
 Thou hast consumed them." 
 
 The rest of the prophets cry out, 
 
 ** Go up to Eamoth-Gilead 
 
 And prosper, 
 '^ Go up to Eamoth-Gilead 
 
 And prosper." 
 
 Enter Messenger and Micaiah. 
 
 • 
 
 Messenger to Micaiah (aside.) 
 
 Behold now the words of all the prophets 
 Have declared good unto the king, thy word 
 Should be like unto theirs, for thy own sake 
 Speak that which is good and no way evil. 
 
 Micaiah. 
 
 As the Lord liveth, 
 
 What the Lord saith unto me that speak L 
 
 Ahab. 
 What sayest thou ? Micaiah, 
 Shall we go up gainst Eamoth-Gilead 
 To battle, or forbear ? 
 
 Micaiah. 
 Go and prosper, thou shalt win. 
 
( 89 ) 
 
 Ahab. 
 
 How many times must I adjure thee that 
 
 Thou tell me nothing in an irony, 
 
 But speak the truth as it doth come to thee. 
 
 MiCAIAH. 
 
 (^After a pause, fixing his eyes on vacancy.) 
 
 I saw all Israel scattered on the hills 
 As sheep without a shepherd ; the Lord said, 
 These have no master, let each return to 
 His own house in peace ! 
 
 Ahab to Jehoshaphat (aside,) 
 
 Did I not tell thee 
 That he would not prophesy good of me ? 
 
 Micaiah. 
 
 I saw the Lord sitting upon his throne, 
 
 And all the host of heaven standing on His 
 
 Right hand and on the left, and the Lord said 
 
 Who shall persuade Ahab that he go up 
 
 To Ramoth-Gilead and fall ? one said this 
 
 Another that, till a lying spirit 
 
 Came forth and stood before Him saying, 
 
 I'll persuade him ; the Lord then asked wherewith ? 
 
 And he answered, I will go forth and be 
 
 A lying spirit in the mouth of all 
 
 His prophets, now therefore, b^^hold, the Lord 
 
 Hath put a lying spirit in the mouths 
 
 Of these thy prophets ! 
 
( 90 ) 
 
 Zedekiah, the son of Chenanah. 
 (Going near and smiting Micaiah on the cheek.) 
 Which way went the Spirit of the Lord from 
 Me to speak to thee ? 
 
 Micaiah. 
 Behold, thou shalt see the day when thou shalt 
 Go into a chamber to hide thyself, 
 
 Ahab. 
 
 Take Micaiah and carry him back to 
 
 Ammon, governor of the city, say 
 
 Thus saith the king — Put this pestilent wretch 
 
 In prison, and feed him with bread and water 
 
 Of affliction, till I return in peace.— 
 
 Now to battle ! 
 
 Scene IX. — Ramoth-Gilead. Trumpets at a distance. 
 Battle, Ahab in disguise on his chariot, 
 
 Ahab. 
 
 The Syrian darts swim on the air in shoals, 
 Our troops retreat, the battle's well-nigh lost. 
 And I am wounded. Driver, turn thine hand 
 And carry me out of the host, the blood 
 Is gushing fast and I feel faint, carry 
 Me to the nearest pool and stanch this wound 
 And wash your chariot there. O the words of 
 That wild man are ringing in my ears, 
 
( 91 ) 
 
 I feel faint and fainter yet, I hope it is 
 
 Not death — those words — Dost thou not hear them ? 
 
 " There ^ where the dogs licked the blood of Naboth, 
 
 Shall dogs lick thy Mood, even thine,^^ 
 
 Drive hard ? drive hard I Oh ! 
 
 (Dies.) 
 
(VC 
 
 I walked the fields at break of day, 
 
 And by the hedge espied 
 A small white flower, that bloomed alone 
 
 In beauty — not in pride. 
 
 And down-dropt were the soft blue eyes 
 
 Of that sequestered nun ! 
 As fast advancing, streamed around 
 
 The first light of the sun. 
 
 An air of pensiveness about 
 Its modest worth was thrown, 
 
 And from its little heart arose 
 A fragrance, all its own. 
 
 Ah ! few, said I, now know the spot 
 
 Thou gracest silently, 
 And fewer yet shall mourn, fair flower. 
 
 When thou wilt cease to be. 
 
 Methought the Spirit of the flower 
 
 Did softly make reply, 
 ' Though lonely, I am truly blest, 
 
 I worship, and I die.' 
 
Jks. 
 
 God, who in times of old communion held 
 
 With prophets and with sages, and inspired 
 
 Their spirits to foresee in waking dreams 
 
 The shadowed semblance of reality ; 
 
 Who from the Sacred Mount in thunders gave 
 
 The Law to Moses and the multitude ; 
 
 Who walked with Abraham, and at dead of night 
 
 Eevealed His edict to young Samuel, 
 
 Speaks to us still if we but choose to listen. 
 
 The sky, the earth, the ocean's broad expanse, 
 
 The stars that burn, the seasons as they roll. 
 
 The blushing fruits, the flowers that deck the lawn, 
 
 The maiden rill that by the hamlet glides. 
 
 Have they not voices for the spirit's ear ? 
 
 The wind that stirs, or the mad hurricane 
 
 That lasheth waves to fury and subsides, 
 
 The mountain- echo and the lonely tarn. 
 
 The twilight's glow that fills the earth and heaven, 
 
 Have they not voices for the spirit's ear ? 
 
 Nor these alone, but Nature animate 
 
 Attest the presence of a living God. 
 
 How cunningly the swallow 'neath the eaves 
 
 Builds her small nest. Who guides the busy bee 
 
 From flower to flower ? — who gives to butterflies 
 
 Their wings of light to skim the liquid air ? 
 
 The song of birds,, when morning paints the skies, 
 
 The .stock-dove'^ coo at noontide'.s death-like cahm, 
 
( 94 ) 
 
 The plash of fishes in the clear moonlight, 
 The cricket's chirp beside the blazing hearth, 
 The oft-seen faces of the friends we love, 
 The prattle of fair children in their play 
 (Those household angels sent from God above), 
 Have they not voices for the spirit's ear ? 
 
 God speaketh now as in the days of yore 
 
 He spake to holy men, while Nature's book 
 
 His power, His wisdom, and His love reveals : 
 
 And had not sin deadened the sense of our 
 
 Ethereal substance, rendering it akin 
 
 To grosser clay, more should we surely hear. 
 
 In each event of life God speaks — from Him 
 
 Afflictions come and not by accident. 
 
 When stretched on bed of sickness or of pain, 
 
 'Tis He supports the sinking spirit — breathes 
 
 Words of comfort, and bids us to review 
 
 Our every thought and deed, and thus prepare 
 
 To meet Him ^ face to face' — 'tis He commands 
 
 Each noble impulse of the soul and cries 
 
 ^ Well done' to workers of His will. Of old 
 
 Our fathers had no higher privilege 
 
 Than we have now — God spake to them, God speaks 
 
 To us, and all things shall be well if we 
 
 Obey His voice, and patiently submit 
 
 To His decrees in faith, and hope and love. 
 
|o^n X. 14. 
 
 Green are Thy quiet pastures, Lord, 
 
 The waters clear and still, 
 Oh, thither lead Thy thirsty flock 
 
 By Zion's holy hill ! 
 
 For there Thy Sun of Righteousness 
 
 Makes ever perfect day. 
 And clouds of sin and error fade 
 
 Before His searching ray. 
 
 No habitations made with hands 
 
 Uprear their columns high. 
 But all may rest beside the Rock 
 
 Or 'neath the glorious sky. 
 
 Eye hath not seen nor heart conceived 
 
 The beauty of the scene ; 
 Unfading are the flowers that bloom 
 
 Amid those pastures green. 
 
 Drink of those streams and never more, 
 My soul ! thou'lt thirst again ; 
 
 Breathe but for once that ambient air 
 And banish fear and pain. 
 
 To those calm regions of the blest, 
 Good Shepherd, be my guide ; 
 
 And all my weary journey through 
 Walk ever at my side. 
 
|o|n 
 
 I mm IV. 16. 
 
 The glowing sun and planets pale 
 That through the trackless ether move, 
 
 Where'er they shine, with silent voice 
 Tell wondering millions — God is Love. 
 
 The varying seasons sing of God, 
 
 Dark clouds proclaim Him from above ; 
 
 The wintry frost, the summer heat 
 Alike declare that God is Love. 
 
 The air we breathe — our onward lives, 
 Our varied blessings surely prove, 
 
 There is a heart that yearns for man, 
 There is a God whose name is Love. 
 
 The open lawn — the flowering woods, 
 
 Where oft at eve I love to rove, 
 In softest language, seem to say 
 
 To my sad spirit— God is Love. 
 
 The waving palms that shade the stream. 
 The sweet-voiced warblers of the grove, 
 
 Raise choral songs in unison 
 
 With Nature's echo — God is Love. 
 
 And thou blest Cross of Calvary, 
 
 Stained with His blood whose Life was Love, 
 The glorious tidings bring'st to all, 
 
 * Believe and live, for God is Love.' 
 
Jfcar not. 
 
 ^ Fear thou not.' — Isaiah xli. 10. 
 
 Fear not, mortal ! though thy path 
 With gathering clouds be dim ; 
 
 Not unwisely, but to chasten, 
 Sorrows come from Him. 
 
 Bewildered ? Helpless ? pray for aid, 
 
 And aid will sure be given ; 
 From among those clouds shall break 
 
 Light from heaven. 
 
 Though the world be all against thee, 
 
 Though hast still a Friend ; 
 The vastness of whose tender love 
 
 None can comprehend. 
 
 Blessed spirits will attend 
 And smooth thy bed of pain, 
 
 Yes, peace and healing flow from them 
 Calming heart and brain. 
 
 Fear not Death — the dark transition 
 
 To a happier sphere, 
 Where the flowers bloom more lovely, 
 
 And the skies are clear. 
 
 For Sin is gone — Christ died to save 
 The sheep that went astray ; 
 
 And souls that turn to Him in truth 
 He never casts away. 
 
 Look upon thy Saviour, mortal, 
 
 Mark the thorn-crown round His brow, 
 
 And for countless mercies blegg Him 
 Evermore and now. ^ 
 
%\t §xtm of %i\i\u 
 
 (From the French of Racine.) 
 
 [Athalie or Athalia, worthy daughter of Ahab and Jezebel, having mas- 
 sacred all the children of Ahazia her son, excepting one named Joash, 
 who was hid in the temple, usurped the regal power. A dream troubles 
 her usurpation. She relates it to her chief minister and to Abner, gene- 
 ral of her troops.] 
 
 A dream ! A dream ! Why should a dream me scare F 
 Two misubstantial figures in the air — 
 They follow me, they haunt me everywhere ! 
 
 The first appeared to me at dead of night 
 
 In royal robes and all in queenly plight, 
 
 A settled majesty of proud disdain 
 
 Upon her marble features written plain : 
 
 *' Daughter!" she said, ^Svho from these breasts did 
 
 draw 
 The drink of life when my least word was law." 
 ^' Daughter !" she said, " who on this neck hast hung, 
 Hath then that God his glamour o'er thee flung 
 Whom to oppose great Baal I did adore 
 In days of power that shall return no more. 
 Whom to resist hath been my being's aim ? 
 I pity thee that thine is not the same, 
 But like a craven culprit thou dost bow 
 Thy neck to yoke that it should never know." 
 Then as to embrace her I did try, 
 
( 99 ) 
 
 Naught but dead fragments could I there espy 
 
 Of bones, and flesli, and garments dyed in blood, 
 
 Limb torn from limb, and nothing that was good, 
 
 While gathering curs with hungry front teeth tore 
 
 The relics which a queen and mother wore ! 
 
 From out the fragments rose a beauteous form 
 
 As if to quell a louring burst of storm, 
 
 A little figure clad in glittering white, 
 
 An angel in an amber sea of light, 
 
 But, strange to tell, close to it, on the air, 
 
 Glanced ever and anon a dagger bare. 
 
 He with firm grasp the dagger then did take 
 
 And still pursues me if I sleep or wake ! 
 
 Once, in my fright, (which I could never scan, ) 
 
 I to my mother's god for succour ran, 
 
 But Baalim heard not, answered not my prayer, 
 
 And all my cries were lost in empty air ; 
 
 Then to the Jewish Temple I did hie, 
 
 Where will not grief and fear make woman fly ? 
 
 I thought of ofi*erings to appease the wrath 
 
 Of the Jews's God, yes, on my onward path 
 
 The people all made way, the sacrifice 
 
 Stopped for a time, but with affrighted eyes 
 
 I saw the very child I shunned, standing 
 
 By the high Priest, with an air commanding, 
 
 The very form and face and lips and hair ; 
 
 It was reality^ no vision there. 
 
 Upon his young brow glanced a coronet, 
 
 He was a king, and yet no king as yet. 
 
 The people clapped, the trumpets blew right soon, 
 
 I trembled, reeled, and fell down in a swoon ! 
 
 'LofC. 
 
Small (S|in§s. 
 
 A lone star at evening shineth 
 
 With a dubious light on high^ 
 
 But we see with deepening night-fall 
 All the glories of the sky. 
 
 Near the hedge a small bird warbles, 
 Warbles low and warbles long, 
 
 Then upon our rapt ears bursteth 
 A full tide of choral song. 
 
 On the plant two tender blossoms, 
 
 Green and sheathed, are seen to stand ; 
 
 Long before the magic circlets 
 Into sunlit rays expand. 
 
 Pattering drops from heaven refresh 
 April's thirsty sod and plain, 
 
 Months elapse — its flood-gates open 
 And down comes the pouring rain. 
 
 Scorn not. Christian, days of small things, 
 Weak beginnings though they be, 
 
 Tiny rills of crystal water 
 
 Mingle with the vast blue sea. 
 
®|c Inscription. 
 
 Stay, Heart, nor wander here and there 
 By gusts of passion driven, 
 
 But lean upon the Friend who hath 
 Thine iron fetters riven ; 
 
 And he shall teach thee how to feel, 
 
 And how to overcome ; 
 Shall bind thy wounds, renew thy youth, 
 
 And safely lead thee home ; 
 
 Shall form out of thee, stony heart, 
 
 Now wandering about, 
 A pillar in the house of God 
 
 That never stirreth out. 
 
 And a new name inscribe thereon 
 
 In characters of light, 
 A name which to all eyes that read 
 
 For ever be as bright 1* 
 
 * '• Him that overcometh will I make a pillar in the temple of my God, 
 
 and he shall go no more out and I will write upon him my new name." 
 
 Rev. III. 12, 
 
€a '*%n^uy 
 
 (On reading his poem entitled the ^' Last Dream 
 of Life" in Beyigal Magazine, No. 11.) 
 
 Is Ambition then thy last hope in this life, 
 
 Dear Arcydae ! that lurid star whose light 
 
 Leads but to bogs and quicksands of this world. 
 
 Dost wish to die ? to die and turn to dust ? 
 
 Hast studied Shakespeare and rememberest 
 
 What he says ? ^* In that sleep of death what dreams 
 
 May come — aye, there's the rub." Aye, there's the rub 
 
 Say I once more. Your beckoning star may seem 
 
 A meteor-flash and ' burning thoughts' but scathe 
 
 And toss the soul in waves tumultuous ! But 
 
 If these things seem to thee as idle fears, 
 
 Chimeras of the brain, yet believe 
 
 That for a higher, holier purpose than 
 
 That which you imagine, God gave thee being ! 
 
 O believe that there is a heaven of bliss, 
 
 O believe that sin has marred the earth 
 
 And left its trail on every earthly thing 
 
 (That God makes all things perfect) believe 
 
 That God is Love and watcheth o'er us all 
 
 And waiteth to redeem humanity 
 
 Of which thou art an unit. This is no 
 
 Maniac-world howling through the realms of space 
 
 In endless revolutions and mad zest, 
 
 But a nursery for God's own children. 
 
( 103 ) 
 
 The sky, the stars, the passion-panting sea, 
 
 The wide green earth, and all its store of flowers, 
 
 Are yet brimful of beauty, created 
 
 By His word, or, to express in language 
 
 More poetical, an emanation 
 
 From the light divine whence all things flow. 
 
 O believe there is a day when this light 
 
 Shall permeate all beings in full tide, 
 
 Creation's self shall clap its upraised hands, 
 
 Kock in golden undulations, and sing 
 
 For joy. Each nook and crevice where darkness 
 
 Hideth shall be illumined. Sin-shadows 
 
 Shall depart, and that direst shade of all, 
 
 The shade of death, shall reign no more. God's throne 
 
 Be set on Earth. And Earth hold jubilee 
 
 With the embracing heavens ! All is not lost 
 
 That seemeth to be lost while God doth live. 
 
Itcto iear. 
 
 Smiles for the year that hath come in, 
 And tears for all the bygone years, 
 Too senseless he who holds it sin 
 To greet the new with smiles and tears. 
 
 O Past, we strow upon thy grave 
 
 The tribute, stem-dropt golden flowers ; 
 
 O Future, may we be as brave 
 
 As thou, who bravest us in sad hours. 
 
 Hard is * the bivouac of life,' 
 May we to keep it be as strong ; 
 Glorious the issues of the strife, 
 Though fought with weary soul, and long. 
 
 Cheer up, faint soul, press onwards still, 
 Press through the woods to your own goal ; 
 See amber streaks are on the hill, 
 Press yonder and take heart, my soul. 
 
 There, when that Pisgah-height is reached, 
 Nor foes, nor darksome shades intrude. 
 In pure white light our garments bleached, 
 We worship the Eternal Good, 
 
%ip|an2. 
 
 The star ! the star ! the star ! 
 His star is in the East, 
 A shimmering light, 
 On plain and height, 
 Proclaims the solemn feast. 
 
 The star ! the star ! the star ! 
 Thy circlet never sets, 
 Thy soft gleam falls 
 On paged walls. 
 And tops of minarets. 
 
 The star ! the star ! the star ! 
 
 The Magi saw of yore ; 
 
 What shall we bring 
 
 To our great King ? 
 
 What hast thou, heart, in store ? 
 
 The star I the star ! the star ! 
 All thoughts that in us stir. 
 Its glorious ray 
 Transmutes this day 
 To gold, and spice and myrrh. 
 
 The star ! the star ! the star ! 
 
 Thou cloud-dispelling eye, 
 
 May the light roll 
 
 From soul to soul, 
 
 And angels hymn on High ! 
 
|pn— ioob Jfrihg. 
 
 Sing, my soul, for ever sing 
 The triumphs of my Saviour- King ; 
 He who did leave his throne above, 
 And He whose very name is Love ; 
 For me sin-lost the God-man came, 
 Died on the Cross the death of shame. 
 
 O Cross, death, bleeding side, 
 O Justice fully satisfied, 
 O Fount of blessing from which flows 
 The healing balm for all my woes, 
 O Lamb of God for sinners slain. 
 May I be Thine and Thine remain ! 
 
€n\tx. 
 
 Softly dawned the morning, 
 Cold winds were astir, 
 When the Maries hasted 
 To the Sepulchre. 
 
 Hearts in sorrow beating 
 For their buried Lord, 
 For the Master's accents, 
 For the Incarnate Word. 
 
 There a mighty Angel, 
 Clothed in spotless white, 
 With his lightning glances, 
 Met their aching sight. 
 
 And he told them, " Maries, 
 Fear not, Him ye seek 
 Is not here, but risen. 
 To His own bespeak." 
 
 As with joyous foot-steps 
 On their way they sail. 
 The Lord Himself appears 
 With the words *^ All hail." 
 
 Then they kneel and worship 
 Thee, the Risen One, 
 Light upon their garments 
 From the rising sun. 
 
 Each returning Easter 
 May we joy and pray, 
 Like to those two Maries 
 In that glorious day. 
 
^sctnsion. 
 
 Let the sounding anthem swell, 
 
 Christ hath triumphed 
 Over sin, and death, and hell : 
 
 Hallelujah, 
 
 In a cloud of golden light 
 
 Past the Saviour 
 Out of His own loved ones' sight : 
 
 Hallelujah. 
 
 Now He sits at God's right hand, 
 
 Sins forgiving, 
 Suppliants we before Him stand : 
 
 Hallelujah. 
 
 Once again shall Olivet 
 
 Be in a glow, 
 When His throne on earth He'll set : 
 
 Hallelujah. 
 
 All His saints with Him He'll bring 
 
 In robes of light. 
 He Himself their crowned King: 
 
 Hallelujah, 
 
% darol. 
 
 It is the glorious Yuletide, 
 
 The birth-night of our King, 
 
 Let every heart be open 
 
 For joy and welcoming. 
 
 The chaste cold stars were throbbing 
 
 Upon the morning sky, 
 
 When bright-tiaraed angels 
 
 First raised the joyful cry — 
 
 *^ Glory to God, the highest, 
 
 On earth good-will to men" — 
 
 Should not that song be ringing 
 
 As even it rung then ? 
 
 Our King, the Lord of glory. 
 
 Our King, the Man forlorn. 
 
 Our King in heaven who reigneth, 
 
 Our King, the Virgin-born ! 
 
 Our King, who gave His blessing 
 
 To them that did deride, 
 
 Our King o'er death triumphant, 
 
 Our King, the Crucified 1 
 
 Another morn more glorious 
 Shall start into new birth. 
 When, o'er His foes victorious. 
 He sets His throne on earth. 
 Another song of triumph 
 Shall rise with loud acclaim, 
 When learneth every nation 
 The Great Mashiach's name. 
 A loftier diapason, 
 A holier song of praise. 
 Than sang those shining angels 
 In old Judean days ! 
 
SM ^q\m. 
 
 1 
 
 I am sick, Lord Christ, sharp pains I feel ; — 
 « The Great Healer I, and I shall heal.'' 
 
 2 
 I am poor, Lord Christ, all day I pine ; — 
 " I will enrich, for true wealth is mine." 
 
 3 
 
 I am bound, Lord Christ, as you well see ; — 
 " I will break thy bands and set thee free." 
 
 4 
 
 I'm worldly, and I am hard of heart ; — 
 " I'll teach thee to choose the better part." 
 
 5 
 
 Snivelling and sad the tones of my voice ; 
 " In me thou shalt aye truly rejoice." 
 
 6 
 
 This skin is noisome, and leprous, and sore ; — 
 *^ One touch of mine shall its bloom restore." 
 
 7 
 I'm slothful and therefore fail to come ; — 
 ** I seek the strayed ones and bring them home." 
 
 8 
 I stifle oft the grace you bestow ; — 
 ^^ God's gift never repentance doth know." 
 
 9 
 Nor pore o'er Thy Book from day to day ; — 
 *^ But still each moment you've power to pray." 
 
 10 
 Good Lord ! Every doubting plea you've waived ; — 
 " Believe in me and thou shalt be saved."* 
 
 ■^ See Goodwyn's " Child of Light," a most excellent treatise on Chris- 
 tian experience. These old Puritans were true men of God. 
 
fasts. 
 
 Yes, I meet you loved ones often 
 
 Though the seas between us roll. 
 
 Every morning, at heaven's portal, 
 Every evening, soul meets soul. 
 
 Worldlings cannot guess the meaning 
 Of our hidden life and love. 
 
 For they know not how in absence 
 We have power to meet above. 
 
 Children of a loving Father, 
 
 By the broad high road of prayer 
 
 We rejoice in His blest presence 
 Every time we gather there. 
 
 In those palace halls and gardens 
 Often yet we sing and play, 
 
 There we find dear ones departed, 
 In those realms of endless day. 
 
 There beside the sparkling river 
 
 Where the sun-light crisply falls^ 
 
 And the budding creepers mantle 
 Over jasper-gleaming walls. 
 
 There where stands in bloom perpetual 
 The Life-tree with healing leaves, 
 
 And the lawn its scented white flowers^ 
 Jocund on her lap receives. 
 
 May we play as now we often 
 
 Play at morn or close of day, 
 
 Play and bless our loving Father 
 In that long, long holiday. 
 
% CoIIopg hnt\ i^t 0mng Star, 
 
 (About Christ's Mighty Love.) 
 
 How goes the world star ? 
 '^ In its old accustomed way, — 
 Some laugh, some weep, some fail, some win, 
 All triumph in their sin. 
 Thus day succeedeth day," 
 
 Is there then hope for man ? 
 ^^ Yea, hope steadfast, sure and true ; 
 Yon western clouds, bright gates of gold. 
 Through them you may behold 
 Heaven's soft cerulean blue." 
 
 Is it all peace in heaven ? 
 ** Neither sin nor sorrow there, 
 Jesus, the King, calls all his saints 
 To leave the old earth's taints 
 His bliss with Him to share." 
 
 " Together let us sing" 
 The star said on — " His love, 
 A plaintive, soft duet — till slow 
 All voices join below 
 All voices join above"! 
 
Pillenial Jlpit. 
 
 {For India,) 
 
 Ye mountains crowned with hoar-frost, 
 
 Ye rivers welling strong. 
 
 And bursting on the plains below, 
 
 First raise the glorious song. 
 
 Ye forests with dark-shadowing trees, 
 
 Ye fields of golden grain, 
 
 Ye grots and caverns, heights and flats, 
 
 Sound back the joyous strain. 
 
 Ye beasts of royal prowess. 
 
 Ye birds of hundred dyes, 
 
 Ye blushing fruits, Ye bursting flowers. 
 
 Wake up with startled eyes ; 
 
 Wake up and join the hymn of praise, 
 
 Of gratitude and love. 
 
 To Him who sits at God's right hand, 
 
 The Christ who rules above. 
 
 The song is raised, people. 
 That Christ will come again ; 
 That Christ will come in majesty 
 Upon the earth to reign. 
 Long pent in superstition's night, 
 Enslaved though ye be 
 By sin and sin's dominion, 
 Yet He shall make you free. 
 
 Shout ye that song of triumph 
 
 In each differing tongue. 
 
 Be numbered with the nations 
 
 That shall to Him belong : 
 
 Thus shall the Sun of Kighteousness 
 
 Chase all dark shades away, 
 
 And India bask beneath the light 
 
 Of never-ending day. 
 
Whom I know to be a Child of my Heavenly Father, 
 
 ON READING HIS '^ HyMNS AND VeRSES." 
 
 For thee, for thee, the starry wreath 
 
 That decks the evening sky, 
 For thee, for thee, the azure flowers 
 
 Upon the hill-tops high. 
 
 For thee, for thee, the silent sea 
 With all its wealth of shells, 
 
 For thee, for thee, the Druid oak, 
 Or those soft minster bells. 
 
 For thee, for thee, a solitude 
 
 By kindly Nature sent, 
 To gather patience for thy work 
 
 And hoard a life-content. 
 
 For thee, for thee. Religion's light 
 Undimmed by priestly saw, 
 
 A flowing tide from God Himself, 
 A tide of love and awe. 
 
 For thee, for thee, the mind that makes 
 
 The poet and the sage, 
 Who leaves to nations yet unborn 
 
 The impress of his age. 
 
%ti mg iq 10 gears oft, 
 
 FOND OF BUILDING BABY-HOUSES, READING THE BIBLE 
 
 Pray and study — plan and work 
 Thou little Bezaleel ! 
 Life's morning is the time to put 
 Thy shoulder to the wheel. 
 
 Carve the timber, cut the stone 
 And work in brass and gold, 
 And let the decorations be 
 Devised in fairest mould. 
 
 Search and find within thy soul 
 What unwrought riches lie ; 
 Love, joy, and precious truthfulness, 
 A hidden treasury. 
 
 Search and find within that Book 
 What gems divine, whose ray 
 A lamp unto thy feet shall be 
 And lighten all thy way. 
 
 Daily, hourly, toil abroad, 
 The heart has wide domains, 
 Waiting culture, flag not, fear not, 
 Though there be drought and rains. 
 
 Build a palace beautiful 
 Enchased below, above, 
 That when the Master-worker comes 
 He may thy work approve ! 
 
Co mg S^ilkcit. 
 
 Children ! there's a better glass 
 
 Than that in which you see the face 
 
 Every morning when you rise, 
 
 Can you tell me where it lies ? 
 
 It lies where the green alders grow, 
 
 A mirror true for all who go, 
 
 Of large dimensions, silver- bright, 
 
 And gleaming in the sun's pure light. 
 
 Children ! there are better flowers 
 Than in those dresses prized of yours^ 
 Those trickt flounces, and that plume, 
 Beside them placed, poor looks assume. 
 Eoses, kingcups, blue-bells, daisies, 
 Nature whom the poet praises, 
 Has such embroidered satins rare, 
 With them your garbs hold no compare. 
 
 Children ! there is better food 
 
 To be found in heath and wood 
 
 Than what is on the table set 
 
 Before you, cream or omelet. 
 
 The mountain-breeze, the fresh, the free, 
 
 That wanders over earth and sea 
 
 Is it not sweeter than this wine ? 
 
 Is it not food and drink divine ? 
 
 Children ! there's a better home. 
 Not made of bricks or painted loam, 
 Not decked with pictures on the wall, 
 That shall never crumbling fall ; 
 A home, beyond the azure skies, 
 Of many mansions, there to rise 
 Should be our aim, yes, there above, 
 We shall know our Father's love. 
 
Sweet as from each flower-cup 
 The incense riseth up 
 In this hour of morning, 
 Sweet be my thoughts of Thee. 
 
 Bright as the sun now shines 
 And clouds with amber lines 
 On his triumphant wake, 
 Bright be my thoughts of Thee. 
 
 Loud as the song-birds' chaunt 
 From cage and bushy haunt, 
 Pouring their hymns of praise, 
 Loud be my thoughts of Thee. 
 
 To Thee I consecrate 
 Once more myself, and wait 
 To know Thy blessed will, 
 My Father and my God ! 
 
€|ilb's Cbening f pin. 
 
 Yes, all the sun-lit hours have flown, 
 All my appointed work is done, 
 And here alone I kneel and pray, 
 As twilight ends another day, 
 Oh ! Father, listen to the cry 
 Of weak and trusting Infancy. 
 
 Thine is the bending arch of blue, 
 The earth and all its treasures too, 
 Its trees, its flowers, its light, its air, — 
 Thy love is scattered everywhere. 
 Where'er I turn my eyes I see 
 The impress of Divinity. 
 
 The birds, that far for food did roam. 
 Now hasten to their wood-land home, 
 The bee that all day long did strive 
 To gather honey, — seeks the hive, 
 And, like the winged bird and bee, 
 My weary soul seeks rest in Thee. 
 
 Lord ! make me loving, gentle, mild 
 
 As Jesus thy beloved child ; 
 
 Keep me, when night deep slumber brings, 
 
 Under the shadow of Thy wings. 
 
 So shall I in thy love rejoice 
 
 And praise Thee with my heart and voice. 
 
Jptt. 
 
 What though my sins in order stand 
 As countless as the ocean-sand, 
 What though the leprosy is seen 
 On tongue and lips and hands and mien ; 
 Though all is dark and vile within, 
 Doubt and despair and deadly sin, 
 In that great day — this is my plea 
 That Thou, Lord, hast died for me ! 
 
 Not what I can or cannot do 
 Will aught avail, Tried and True ! 
 For long before this fleeting breath 
 Was called to being, by Thy death 
 Heaven had been won, the ransom paid, 
 For sin a full atonement made ; 
 What though the vilest vile I be, 
 Is not Thj finished work my plea ? 
 
 Clothed in that robe, at Thy right hand. 
 Redeemed by Thee, Thine own shall stand ; 
 On earth the great white throne be spread, 
 And all the graves give up their dead ; 
 The awful book be opened wide, 
 The Son of Man shall then decide, 
 And He shall rule — blest be His name ! 
 With two-edged sword and eyes of flame. 
 
No fountain issuing from the rock can purer water give 
 Than that which comes from Thee, my Lord, which let me 
 
 drink and live. 
 The fountain runs 'neath shade and sun and dark or bright 
 
 may be, 
 But Thou remainest same alway, there is no change in Thee. 
 
 '* My soul panteth after God as the hart for water-brook" 
 In faith sang Judah's warrior-king, in faith for Thee did 
 
 look. 
 And when on earth Thou walk'dst 'mong men, — from 
 
 bondage to set free, 
 To every fainting soul there came, — Thy thrice-blest " Come 
 
 to Me." 
 
 And once again when from God's throne the crystal stream 
 
 shall flow, 
 , And the famed city like a bride in all its beauty glow. 
 Then louder than the golden harps in that our long lost 
 
 home, 
 The Spirit and the bride shall say, — to all a thirst — ^* 
 
 Come !" 
 
Oh wondrous love ! oh wondrous power ! 
 
 To feel Thy presence from this hour ; 
 Siloam's stream — where is it now ? 
 
 We know not — but we know that Thou 
 Art God and Love, to Thee we pray, 
 Thy blood can cleanse all sins away. 
 
 Blind from my birth — aye, doubly blind ! 
 
 To Thee I come my way to find, 
 Thou art the Way, the Truth, the Light, 
 
 Oh ! cleanse my soul — oh heal my sight ; 
 That from all other gods set free 
 I may in spirit worship Thee ! 
 
|nms. 
 
 Around the green-stemmed Christmas tree. 
 Bright, pendulous with fruits and flowers, 
 We'll celebrate the Saviour's birth, 
 And thus enjoy the precious hours. 
 
 The taper-lights and glistening balls 
 Shall shine like the pure stars above, 
 And as the Angels sing in heaven, 
 We too shall sing " we love, we love." 
 
 We'll sing and pray that this fair tree. 
 Meet emblem of the tree of life. 
 May scatter blessings far and near, 
 Kenew all hearts and heal all strife. 
 
 Exotic blest ! deep may thy stem 
 Strike root in every heathen sod. 
 Till turning from their idols dumb 
 All peoples know to worship God. 
 
Thou art our true Gilgal — in TlieO; clear Lord, 
 Egypt's reproach has clean been swept away ; 
 The plague of darkness that hung o'er our soul 
 Is gone — Thou turnest darkness into day. 
 
 In Thee is stored tjie old corn of the land, 
 The light and love of God — on Thee we feed ; 
 The manna-showers of Law are now no more, 
 In Thee we find all that our spirits need. 
 
 With Thee dark Jordan's flood we've safely past, 
 O circumcise our hearts and make them Thine ; 
 What further fights there may be, lead Thou on^ 
 Till Canaan's promised land before us shine, 
 
The poet thinks — 
 
 " For forms of Faith, let priests and zealots fight, 
 
 His can't be wrong whose life is in the right." 
 
 I think— 
 
 Life may be wrong, sin may be strong, but yet 
 
 Souls trusting in the Lord salvation get, 
 
 For forins to fight is but a paltry thing, 
 
 But glorious is the fight for Christ our King. 
 
 This fight is not with weapons like the sword, 
 
 But by my Spirit saith the blessed Lord. 
 
 The world is a toy-box with broken lid 
 
 Fit for the burning — in which is hid 
 
 A Pearl of rarest price, concocted — where ? 
 
 In ocean, earth, or in the realms of air ?* 
 
 Not in such places did it being find, 
 
 But in the pure depths of the Eternal mind. 
 
 Love was the root, Love bore for it the Cross, 
 
 To spill life-blood Love counted it no loss. 
 
 So when Love found it, Love sold all he had 
 
 With that One Pearl, Love was so very glad. 
 
 * Hindu tradition has it that pearls drop like rain-drops. 
 
POEMS-INDIAN. 
 
Itttrobuttion. 
 
 We have many histories of India, from school-histories up 
 to elaborate treatises, but no work embodying Indian his- 
 torical incidents and characters and older traditions in a 
 poetical form. Yet India is truly the land of romance and 
 poetry, whether we direct our attention to the varied beauty 
 and magnificence of its natural features, or to the wonderful 
 incidents of its earliest and later annals. Where on the 
 whole earth can be found a country displaying the sublime 
 and the lovely as on a stage, and all the wealth of the frigid, 
 the temperate, and torrid zones, as in a bazaar ? From the 
 lofty Himalayas crowned with eternal snows to the flat plains 
 of Bengal waving with green crops, from Dera Gazee Khan 
 to Trivandrum, the scenery is as varied as it is possible to 
 imagine. Where again are such flowers as are to be seen 
 in India ? Where such fruits ? Where such exuberance of 
 foliage, where such rivers, quadrupeds, song-birds ? Turning 
 to its history we find in those gigantic epics, the Ramayana 
 and Mahabharata, such an inexhaustible mine of the romantic 
 and poetical, and to its later history such stirring incidents, 
 such oriental gorgeousness, such rapid rise and extinction of 
 dynasties, such a marvellous development of the plans of 
 Divine Providence, that neither the poet nor the romancer 
 can be at a loss for subjects to write upon. The author of 
 this little volume does not pretend to the gifts and qualifica- 
 tions which constitute either, and can only hope that some one 
 will do for Indian history what Lord Macaulay has done for 
 the history of old Rome, or Lockhart has done for ancient 
 Spanish legend^ in his beautiful Ballads. All that he has 
 
( 128 ) 
 
 attempted to do is to versify or put into metre certain pas- 
 sages in the history of India, arranging them in chronological 
 order ; and as metrical compositions exercise a more powerful 
 influence than prose, especially on the young, he trusts his 
 attempts will not be altogether without use. Waving there- 
 fore all claims to poetic excellence for these fugitive poems, 
 it is no presumption to state that those marked " From the 
 Sanscrit/' though not all close translations, have been written 
 with as becoming reverence to the spirit and tone of the ori- 
 ginals as their transfusion into a foreign tongue, and into 
 some of the most approved metres of modern English Poetry 
 would admit, and those marked *^ From Indian history," are 
 genuine scenes and events as the pages of history will testify. 
 It is in the meagreness of the author's powers, and not in the 
 meagreness of the subjects, that the short-comings and de- 
 fects of the work rest. The history of India appropri- 
 ately divides itself into three distinct periods, the Hindoo 
 period, the Muhammedan period, and the British period. 
 The poems refer only to the two first. The British period, 
 though replete with subjects, has not been touched upon at all, 
 belonging as it does to times comparatively modern. That 
 wonderful concatenation of events which led to the rise of the 
 British power in India, which converted a factory in Surat 
 into an empire mightier, vaster, than that over which the eagle 
 of all-conquering Rome ever flew, is in itself a Romance which 
 justifies the observation that '' truth is stranger than fiction." 
 The abolition of cruel rites, the spread of education and 
 enlightenment, the ushering in of a new era, as it were, in 
 India's cycle of humanity, and one may say of its nationality, 
 all through the divinely selected instrument of British power 
 or domination, open wide fields for the display of genuine 
 
( 129 ) 
 
 authorship. Up, up, up, in the regions of poesy and grateful 
 song live the remembrances of such administrative measures 
 as the abolition of the Suttee-rite and other barbarities sanc- 
 tioned by India's debasing idolatry. How interesting again 
 would be a novel penned with the picturesque gorgeousness of 
 the author of " Rienzi," or the powerful touches of the author- 
 ess of " Jane Eyre/' describing the experiences of the educated 
 young Indian or the trials and hopes of the Convert brought 
 out of darkness into light. But all this in due time and by 
 men worthy of the task. We have never thought it beyond 
 hope that under the benign British sway Indians will be able 
 to frame and fashion a National Literature of their own, not 
 in Hindustani, or Bengali, or Mahratti, or Tamil, or Telugu, 
 or Urya, but in the English language. All the beautiful 
 literature of America is of recent date. And though Indians 
 do not exactly bear the same relationship as Americans (so- 
 called) to the mother-country, yet the time may come for her 
 to boast that her fostering care has called out in the land 
 of her adoption — poets, romancers, philosophers. There is 
 hope for all this in the common Aryan origin of the people 
 of England and India. 
 
(From the Sanscrit.) 
 
 Far hid amid that wilderness of gloom the forest Dandaka 
 
 Lay the lovely valley, lit up by the sun's golden radiance, 
 
 Like beauty imprisoned in some sombrous castle yet cheerful ! 
 
 A river watered the valley, and on its dallying wavelets 
 
 White lotuses gleamed, half open, nectar-cups for the wild- 
 swan, 
 
 And on the green margin, with colors like those of the rain- 
 bow, 
 
 Flowers spread their tender petals. The feathery Acacia 
 
 And the red-blossomed Simaltree grew on the higher undul- 
 ations. 
 
 Like heroes guarding the vale stood the palms in fitful 
 clusters 
 
 Lit up at eve by innumerable troops of fire-flies. 
 
 The Baubool with gleaming fruits formed a stately throne for 
 the peacock. 
 
 Who, as the clouds rumbled, spread his tail with golden stars 
 bestudded. 
 
 Bees and butterflies roamed here and there, and afar in the 
 distance. 
 
 Shaded by plantain-leaves, was the hut of the exile brothers. 
 
 Tendrils of creepers hung from the eaves, and often the song- 
 birds 
 
 Came there to pour out their little gouls in mellifluous mu3ic. 
 
( 132 ) 
 
 Or peck grains from the rosy palm of the beautiful Sita. 
 Thus stood that humble dwelling of joy in rural seclusion 
 Enclosed by the forest Dandaka with huge trees, dark alleys, 
 Rank grass and moaning wind, the abode of the wicked 
 Rakhasas. 
 
 One morn when birds were awake and singing, and the slant 
 
 sun-beams 
 Were drinking the liquid ambrosia that lay in the flower-bells, 
 And the breezes of summer were beginning to play on the 
 
 grasses, 
 At the door of the hermitage stood that woman of women 
 The beautiful Sita, happy in banishment, thinking perchance 
 Of by-gone days and Aoudhya : when lo ! from the thicket 
 That bounded the landscape on one of its sides, out-darted 
 A radiant fawn ! Its small horns of gold tipped with 
 
 diamonds, 
 Eyes brighter than rubies and skin like the crystal shining ; 
 Amethyst bells hung from a tie round its neck, each bell- tongue 
 
 a pearl. 
 And their tintinabulation was something so exquisite. 
 Something so like the music which she loved to hear in her 
 
 childhood. 
 That it charmed her whole being to joy ! To Rama she 
 
 hastens 
 And says, ^' Get me, my Rama, this prize, I, who ne'er ask 
 
 you for aught. 
 Ask for this dear gazelle !" Lakhshmana o'erheard, and with 
 
 sage counsel 
 Thus accosted the queen, " No fawn, dear Sita, can thus be 
 
 arrayed, 
 
( 133 ) 
 
 'Tis some Rakhasa disguised." But she would not listen ; 
 
 and Eama, 
 Loth to refuse his beloved, with quiver and bow forth sallied ; 
 '^ Guard," he said to Lakhshmana, " brother, guard her while 
 
 I am away, 
 I have nothing to fear e'en though it be the king of Rakhasas. 
 
 To capture the fawn alive was Rama's aim, but it eluded 
 His coaxing and efforts ; at length over the dew-spangled 
 
 grasses 
 He gave it full chase, and the beautiful creature ran panting 
 Now hither now thither, with such desperate bounds, at times 
 
 hiding 
 Behind some furze-bush, then leaping o'er streamlets which 
 
 gurgled 
 Prom the sides of the hills, till it reached the dark forest 
 
 Dandaka, 
 That he felt sure in his mind it was some malevolent demon. 
 Onwards he followed it, as nothing could daunt the Invincible, 
 Nor shades which for ever lour nor trees which for ever are 
 
 wailing : 
 Then stringing his lordly bow, the gift of the sage Viswamitra, 
 He from his bundle of white-feathered darts selected the 
 
 keenest 
 And discharged it amain. The fawn fell with a pry which 
 
 resounded 
 Through those dim shades for leagues, a cry for help in a 
 
 voice like Rama's, 
 And Rama beheld at his feet the dying demon Maritcha. 
 Thus, even in death, the wicked cease not from treacherous 
 
 devices. 
 
( 134 ) 
 
 With louder wailing now wailed the trees of the forest 
 
 Dandaka, 
 The sky scarcely seen through the old creaking branches, was 
 
 beclouded, 
 A raven that with prying eyes on the bloody spot alighted 
 Flew back in a flutter, singing hoarsely the demon's requiem, 
 The demon Maritcha slain by the death-fraught arrow of 
 
 Rama. 
 
 Meanwhile the cry had reached the ears of the tender-hearted 
 
 Sita, 
 Who said, ** Hie thee, Lakhshmana, Rama calleth for help ;" 
 
 but Lakhshmana 
 Well knew it was a cry to deceive, some plan, some desperate 
 
 attempt 
 To draw him out and thus leave his lovely sister protector-less : 
 So he gave vent to his thoughts, " No beautiful queen of 
 
 Aoudhya, 
 No honored Sita, that is not Rama's voice, the Invincible 
 Can ne'er need a protector, ne'er call for another's assistance, 
 If I leave you alone I fear some evil of import may happen. 
 My mind this morn is uneasy and full of direful fore-bodings :" 
 Wrathful, anxious, and with eyes swimming in tears the 
 
 other replied 
 '^ Think'st thou, Lakhshmana, that I can mistake the voice 
 
 of my lord, my husband, 
 Think'st thou I would request you to go without weighty 
 
 occasion, 
 Many thanks, young hero, I know not about what you are 
 
 dreaming. 
 Is it my hand when Rama is dead, or the throne of Aoudhya" ? 
 
( 135 ) 
 
 Lakhshmana looking up— his honor thus strangely derided, 
 Said softly, " O woman-soul ! unjust and ungenerous ever, 
 I go, but here I draw a strong line with the point of my 
 
 arrow. 
 Step not beyond it, it is a magic line, and will guard you 
 
 from ill." 
 With these words he left the hermitage in quest of his 
 
 brother, 
 And Sita wept and mused, mused and wept at the hut-thresh- 
 
 hold alone ! 
 
 Now over the sky's stony pavement the red sun was galloping 
 And the air and the earth the light of his bright flag-roll 
 
 reflected, 
 Sita still stood at the door, and on the scene appeared 
 
 another. 
 An old man, clothed in rags, creeping it seemed that way to 
 
 his homestead. 
 He approached leaning upon his staff and' mumbling 
 
 inaudibly. 
 Then as his eyes met her's distinctly pronounced the word 
 
 "Alms." 
 Sita, ever anxious to help or soothe the poor and afflicted. 
 Ran in and returned with a large measure of rice in a basket 
 And offered it kindly, but the stranger, who was standing 
 
 beyond 
 The line drawn by Lakhshmana, drew not nearer, but thus 
 
 accosted, 
 " What boots it, fair ladye, to fear an old man like me, a 
 
 beggar, 
 
 A doubting heart and a willing hand are gigng of uncharity 
 
( 1S6 ) 
 
 Which a ladye like thee should shun, am I a beast of the 
 forest, 
 
 Or a leper, that thus you should keep aloof ? Nay, ladye I go 
 
 Without accepting your gift," At these words Sita some- 
 what abashed 
 
 Stepped out of the magic line. On a sudden the stranger 
 vanished, 
 
 And in his stead, looming athwart the sun, stood the tall dark 
 figure 
 
 Of the king of Rakhasas, Maritcha's friend, ten-headed Ravan ; 
 
 Shriek after shriek burst from the affrighted Sita as quick he 
 hurled 
 
 Her into his car, with wheels gtrong as thunder, drawn by 
 Pisachag. 
 
anbobari. 
 
 {From the Sanscrit.) 
 
 It was a lofty palace-hall, 
 
 The pillars marble- white, 
 Festooned with mimic flowers, upheld 
 
 A dome of chrysolite. 
 High in the centre hung the orbed moon. 
 At every niche stood silver trees 
 
 With leaves of curious mould, 
 And on the glittering boughs 
 
 Were birds of gold. 
 
 While here and there 
 Jets springing fell in star-showers, 
 
 A fragrance filled the air. 
 By some magic power those birds sang sweetly. 
 
 But the old grey sea 
 Breaking on coral-reefs, and wafting spicy gales, 
 Made meeter music for Mandodari. 
 
 Eyes down-dfopt and pencilled with dark brows, 
 Eyes in which shone the light of chastity, 
 Lips severe as beseem a queen, 
 
 And tresses flowing free 
 
 Over the span-broad zone. 
 These were thine, regal Mandodari ! 
 
 For thee all seasons brought their dower, — 
 Spring its spray-wreath and opening flower, 
 Summer its golden-rinded fruit, 
 And mellow Autumn its rich treasure-store ; 
 For thee the deep gave shining shells 
 
 Big with twin-pearls. 
 For thee the mine was made to yield 
 
 Its burning ore. 
 
( 138 ) 
 
 Queen of the monarch with ten crowns 
 At whose name the immortals trembled ! 
 Thy soul-full eyes, thy ambrosial smile 
 Could the tyrant's heart beguile 
 
 And subdue his frowns. 
 Yet fearful that he may not yield, 
 Thou didst devise that royal game 
 In which a battle strong is fought 
 Upon a mimic battle-field.* 
 
 Queen of the monarch with ten crowns, 
 
 Queen, but not happy ! 
 Not thus were spent thy childhood's days 
 
 At thy royal father's home, 
 For there in maiden-freedom thou didst roam 
 O'er field and lawn and sun-lit ways ; 
 Fed with the honey culled by yellow bees 
 
 From the forest's flowering trees, 
 And resting on beds of eider-down, 
 The apple of thy mother's eye, 
 Thou worshiptst the white form of virgin purity. 
 
 But ah ! the change, I see thee stand 
 
 At the gorgeous palace-window, 
 
 Thy sad brow resting on thy hand Mandodari ! 
 
 Think'st thou of those bright days for ever gone 
 
 Of thy false lord or of thy warrior son Mandodari ? 
 
 Or think'st thou of thine own tender mother 
 
 So loving who was to thee, 
 Or listless watchest tumbling foam-balls, 
 
 Gazing on the sea ? 
 Never fell on queen or maiden, 
 Though the earth be sorrow-laden, 
 
 Such sad destiny ! 
 
 * Mandodari, Ravan's queen, is said to have invented the game of chess. 
 
|afap. 
 
 (^From the Sanscrit.) 
 
 High upon his rocky eyrie 
 
 Sat Jatayu, royal bird ! 
 On the tree-tops of the forest 
 
 Not a breeze the leaflets stirred ; 
 But the sun with lingering radiance 
 
 Gilded that broad sea of green, 
 And the shadows of the mountains 
 
 Slept like giant-forms between. 
 
 Gazing still and idly gazing 
 
 On the fiery sun-set's glow 
 Sate he, thinking of some on-slaught 
 
 In elk- haunted glades below, 
 Or of mounting on swift pinions 
 
 Higher up the ether blue, 
 Till the earth is dim and speck-like 
 
 And heaven's portals start to view. 
 
 Hark ! what distant sound of wailing 
 
 Kings across the leaden sky, 
 On the air a whirling chariot 
 
 Drawn by fiery horses fly. 
 King Jatayu saw and knew it, 
 
 Clapped his wings and raised his crown ; 
 From his proud throne on the mountain 
 
 Like dark thunder swooped a-down. 
 
 First he swooped upon the horses 
 Left them gasping on the plain, 
 
( 140 ) 
 
 Then the monster's heavy javelins 
 Fell as thick as hail or rain ; 
 
 Nothing daunted, wildy wheeling 
 Near the spot where Ravan stood, 
 
 Dashed his chariot into fragments, 
 Rolling fragments marked with blood. 
 
 Two black wings from earth uprising 
 
 Carried Ravan on his way, 
 But the Vulture- King pursues him 
 
 Set to fight the desp'rate fray, 
 *' Save me, save me, good Jatayu,^' 
 
 Sita, best of women, cried, 
 As with firmer grasp the Demon 
 
 Held her by the hair in pride. 
 
 Now with beak and claws assaihng 
 
 Ravan's twenty eyes he gored, 
 Who in anger fiercely yelling . 
 
 Drew at once his magic sword. 
 Thrice three times the flashing weapon 
 
 Missed its ill-directed aim, 
 Then upon Jatayu's pinion 
 
 Fell as falls the lightning-flame. 
 
 Like a soldier slain in battle 
 
 Lies Jatayu on the strand, 
 From his throat the red blood welling 
 
 Mixes with the ^ glinting' sand ; 
 And the death-film slowly gathers 
 
 In his bright, sun-loving eyes, 
 As he lived a mountain-hero, 
 
 So a hero'_s death he dies ! 
 
e %tml lourntg of %um anb |is 
 Consort . 
 
 (From the Sanscrit.) 
 
 High into air the heavenly chariot rose ; 
 
 (Bearing within that doubly precious freight 
 
 Ayoudha's king and queen ;) at intervals 
 
 It hung beneath some cloud from which the light 
 
 Fell in long spikes upon its rounded top, 
 
 Or glanced upon the silver bells that made 
 
 Incessant music ; but at other times 
 
 Fast it sailed, sun-clad, clearing league on league, 
 
 Like some strong bird that sails with wings outspread. 
 
 As they passed o'er the borders of the sea 
 
 Bama addressed his tender-hearted spouse, 
 
 '' Mark, love, the sea slow opens to the view 
 
 Its dark waves decked with foam. The roseate sky 
 
 Is pictured in those depths where once of old 
 
 The sage Kapila from our fathers hid 
 
 The Sacrificial Steed of prowess rare ; 
 
 The sun with beams of power drinks its salt waves, 
 
 And on the eve primeval, rose the moon 
 
 From its fair surface. Gems of every hue 
 
 Illume its secret caves and grow with time. 
 
 A limitless expanse ! Meand'ring rills. 
 
 Like maidens coy in varied vestment clad 
 
 Are by its waters courted and embraced ; 
 
 Amid the foam-flakes float and disappear 
 
 Serpentg with jewelled crowns and sparkHng scales, 
 
( 142 ) 
 
 And that huge beast, the monarch of the sea, 
 
 High on the air throws up a sheeny shower. 
 
 Upon the shore the sands are strewn with pearls 
 
 And white as white can be. The wanton breeze 
 
 Which, as we veer, blows full upon your face, 
 
 Bears on its wings the breath and dust of flowers 
 
 On coral rocks that blow. A column dense 
 
 Of multiplying clouds invests the eastern sky, 
 
 And as Mount Mandar glowed when the leagued gods 
 
 With it the ocean churned, so glows the mass 
 
 Lit by the radiance of departing day. 
 
 Lo ! On the dim horizon's farthest verge 
 
 The tall tamalas to the eye appear 
 
 Like weeds of stunted growth, and yonder range 
 
 Of slender betel-nuts, a border rare. 
 
 All behind, seem following our bright car, 
 
 And when you stretch your fair hand to the clouds 
 
 The lightning decks it like some ornament : — 
 
 The pious hermits of Yanasthana 
 
 New huts are building. Here it was I found 
 
 (When mad in quest of you) a priceless treasure, 
 
 String'd jewels of your feet, dropped in your haste. 
 
 Those trees with their green arms and greener leaves 
 
 Did direct my way, and with lifted eyes 
 
 Yon browsing antelopes partook my grief. 
 
 Mark there, the summit of Maleaban mount 
 
 Sky-piercing, rock on rock of adamant ; 
 
 While passing by its base, so sweet the scent 
 
 Kadamha flowers exhaled, and so plaintive 
 
 Was the peacock's cry, and so musical 
 
 The voice of clouds resounding from its caves, 
 
( 143 ) 
 
 Absence from thee was more than ever felt. 
 
 On the adjoining lake I saw the swans 
 
 Pass lotus-leaves from bill to bill, and clasped 
 
 The young asohe that overhung its steeps 
 
 Loaded with flowers, meet emblem of thy beauty. 
 
 As pass we on, the car's silvery bells 
 
 Put yonder line of storks upon the wing ; 
 
 And here, ^ dainty-waisted' ! is the grove 
 
 Half of whose trees were watered by your hands. 
 
 The wild stags in its shades are gazing up. 
 
 Here on Godavery's flower-enamelled banks 
 
 Of old I rested, on your lap my head. 
 
 When tired of chasing the quick-bounding roe ; 
 
 The time comes back as it were yesterday ! 
 
 Here dwells the sage austere, Agastya named, 
 
 Who in the height of blazing summer's heat 
 
 Amid four flaming fires abstracted prays ; 
 
 And there another of a difi*erent mind 
 
 Whose life luxurious is a round of joys ; 
 
 Yon pleasure-dome hemmed in by waters clear. 
 
 And glistening through embowering leaves, is his, 
 
 In its bright halls the flower-crowned apsaras 
 
 Or lead the merry dance or sing sweet songs. 
 
 Hark, even now at intervals I hear 
 
 Such soul-subduing strains from pipe, and lute, 
 
 And dulcimer, as ne'er I heard before. 
 
 Now is the lofty peak of Cheetrakute 
 
 Dimly descried. From it serenely flows 
 
 Mandakni, queen of rills, and like a string 
 
 Of pearls adorns the landscape clothed in green. 
 
 Far, far, in front behold bright steps of light 
 
( 144 ) 
 
 Our journey's end, and at their base the troops 
 Of plumed soldiers that attend with flags 
 Emblazoned, fluttering in the wind, and shields 
 Of gold, and gleaming spears, and instruments 
 Of martial music, to receive their king. 
 Surrounded by his ministers of state, 
 A hero with a hero's form and mien, 
 There stands the regent, my loving brother, 
 Impatient to give back the crown he wears. 
 Under the youth's just sway the kingdom rests 
 In peace, the subjects are as happy 
 As ever those of wisest lord that ruled." 
 
PART I. 
 
 (^From the Sanscrit,) 
 
 The moon shines faint, the stars are few 
 
 That deck Yamuna's waves of blue, 
 
 The wild kokil has ceased to sing, 
 
 Hushed is the bee's soft murmuring, 
 
 The breeze that sighs around the bowers 
 
 Bears on its wings the breath of flowers 
 
 That sleep beneath the pale moon-beam, 
 
 And stirs no ripplet in the stream. 
 
 And naught disturbs, nor voice, nor sound. 
 
 The silence sad that reigns around. 
 
 The maidens of Vrij no longer play 
 
 'Neath the brown shade of creepers gay, 
 
 No longer is heard their song so sweet, 
 
 Nor the musical tread of their glancing feet, 
 
 Nor the lute of the god whose vestments shine 
 
 With the choicest stores of the brook and mine, 
 
 Whose locks with peacock-plumes are crowned, 
 
 Whose wrists with rings of gold are bound, 
 
 Whose dark-blue throat bright gems illume 
 
 Like stars that gleam through evening's gloom. 
 
 He is gone from the bowers of pleasure and love 
 
 To Indra's emerald realms above. 
 
 For the lord of the sky implores his aid 
 
 To prosper the love of a dark -browed maid. 
 
 The bridal hall was hung with flowers 
 Culled from Panchala's lakes and bowers. 
 
( 146 ) 
 
 There, lotuses in rich array 
 
 In garlands hung — like stars of day, 
 
 The champac in its golden bloom 
 
 Shone, and exhaled a rich perfume, 
 
 The sunflower with its circling beams 
 
 Recalled the lover's noon-tide dreams, 
 
 Nor were there wanting those fair gems, 
 
 The modest pride of other stems, 
 
 Kadamha 'neath whose checkered shade 
 
 The amorous Krishna danced and played, 
 
 And vakul prince of flowering trees 
 
 Home of sweet-warbling birds and bees. 
 
 And hela with its buds of white 
 
 Like manna-showers in vases bright, 
 
 Asoka too whose tender shoot 
 
 Blossoms when touched by maiden's foot. 
 
 With these, and more, that princely hall 
 
 Was ready dight to welcome all. 
 
 Sounded the conch-shell — and the bride, 
 
 With two fair maidens at her side. 
 
 Now sallied forth, in jewel's sheen. 
 
 At once of Love and Beauty queen ! 
 
 Dark are her locks and dark her eyes — 
 
 A virgin daughter of the skies ! 
 
 Her lips are redder than coral can be. 
 
 Her form more soft than the Simal tree, 
 
 And Oh ! when she moves 'tis with greater grace 
 
 Than the gliding swan on the still tank's face. 
 
 The youthful princes hied amain 
 
 O'er upland height, far stretching plain, 
 
( H7 ) 
 
 Each from his mansion and domain. 
 Again the conch-shell gaily sounds ! 
 A league's length from the palace-bounds 
 The Target-fish hung high in air 
 From poles festooned with garlands rare, 
 And on each side the dais was spread 
 Sashes and shawls hung overhead 
 For awning, the empurpled light 
 Mocked many fluttering streamers white. 
 The citizens in groups advance 
 Armed with sword, javelin, or lance ; 
 The trumpets speak and horses prance. 
 Maskers and mimics too are there 
 In motley dresses quaint and rare, 
 And minstrel-bards, and women's eyes 
 Watching who wins the lovely prize. 
 And wrestlers famous in the ring 
 To shew their feats before the king, 
 And children shouting as one falls, 
 And gew-gaw sellers in their stalls. 
 And dancers in their beauty's pride 
 And knots of gypsies, eager-eyed ! 
 Anon, as music swells the breeze, 
 Forth issuing from a screen of trees 
 The royal train appears — the sun 
 Its jocund course had nearly run, 
 Its last faint rays of crimson hue 
 Glanced on those spears and caftans blue, 
 And cloth of gold, and pennons high, 
 And all that glorious company ! 
 On moved the pageant, clearer still 
 
( 148 ) 
 
 The trumpet-echoes from yon hill, 
 The drums resound, the chargers neigh 
 As if to meet a coming fray. 
 And elephants in trappings red, 
 By touch of steel-goad on the head 
 Are guided, on each back of power 
 A jewelled room as lady's bower ; 
 Who now can fitly paint or say 
 The glories of that bridal day ? 
 All souls seemed happy — happiest he 
 Who wins the far-famed Draupadee ! 
 
PART II. 
 
 As one by one the princes try 
 
 The appointed feat of archery 
 
 To prove their skill — the crowds huzza 
 
 And nearer in a circle draw, 
 
 But all their rising zest expire 
 
 At ill success — they flag, retire. 
 
 Each suitor with his head bent low 
 
 Eyes resting on the vase below 
 
 Of limpid water picturing bright 
 
 The Target-fish (which danced in light) 
 
 Must send through five concentric rings 
 
 An arrow quivering on its wings 
 
 Straight to its destined goal. But, lo ! 
 
 Some even fail to bend the bow, 
 
 So hard the wood, so tough the string, 
 
 The archer to the ground they fling. 
 
 Thus bravely wrought by king's command 
 
 To try the noblest of the land. 
 
 From proud Hastina's royal tower, 
 Where Dhritarashtra reigned in power, 
 His hundred sons had hastened, men 
 Whose like we ne'er shall see again, 
 (From swart Duryodhun, eldest-born, 
 To faces young and fair as morn,) 
 With beating heart each bent the bow. 
 Whose the bride-prize none yet may know ; 
 But as each prince in turn did fail, 
 The crowds began to smile and rail, 
 
( 150 ) 
 
 And Drona inly groaned with rage, 
 
 Drona, the warrior and the sage, 
 
 Whose darts, they say, were wing'd with flame; 
 
 Ne'er swerved aside, ne'er missed their aim, 
 
 And at whose famous martial-school 
 
 Those youths had learnt by book and rule. 
 
 But where amid that throng is he 
 The pride of India's chivalry ? 
 The envy of Hastina's lord. 
 Matchless ahke with bow or sword, 
 The soldier tried, the lover true, 
 Sure love for love was but his due. 
 The favored of the gods, and blest, 
 Why is he not among the rest ? 
 In Brahmin's guise young Arjun stands 
 Amid the pressing soldier-bands. 
 With modest mien the bow he took, 
 The maidens whispered, others shook 
 Their heads, as much to say, restrain 
 Young man thy daring, 'tis in vain. 
 With one thought to the gods above 
 Another on his ladye-love 
 He strung the bow, and the suspense 
 And silence were in truth intense, 
 The arrow hurtled in the sky 
 And struck the Fish triumphantly, 
 The image in the waters clear 
 Seemed rent in twain to standers near. 
 And forthwith in a fragrant shower 
 From Indra'3 heaven fell bud and flower. 
 
( 151 ) 
 
 Now sound the bridal-note with glee, 
 For Arjun's wife is Draupadee ! 
 Let silver-fife and rolling drum 
 Keep pace with the increasing hum 
 Of men and women, on the air 
 Which seemed a roseate tint to bear ; 
 For Indra had so touched the light 
 That it became both red and bright : 
 From his own heaven he sent a ray 
 At evening, on that gala-day. 
 But soon confusion filled the scene 
 And battle stained the bridal-green, 
 The Kuru princes sought a fray, 
 With armed men they lined the way, 
 And glittering spears told every one 
 Of fight for her who had been won. 
 Duryodhun led the first fierce band, 
 The other owned Kurna's command, 
 A valiant leader true and tried, 
 To Dhritarashtra's cause allied. 
 What were the brothers now to do, 
 Their hands unarmed, their men so few ? 
 Arjun snatched up and strung the bow, 
 To Kurna sent a cleaving blow ; 
 And Bhima tearing up a tree 
 Whirled round his head as fierce and free ; 
 Their followers few like lions fought 
 And turned the opposing lines to naught ; 
 The favor of the gods on high 
 Secured a signal victory. 
 
( 152 ) 
 
 Again in GokuFs spicy grove 
 Breeze, bird, and bee, in gladness rove, 
 And at the soft approach of Spring 
 The trees and plants are blossoming. 
 Again upon the emerald green 
 Is heard the lute, the dance is seen ; 
 Again Yamuna's waves of blue 
 Are rippling in the moonlight new 
 Which shining brightly seem to say 
 To jocund hearts, keep holiday. 
 For Krishna from the realms above 
 Hath hied back to his bowers of love. 
 
{From the Sanscrit,) 
 
 In garbs of white and decked with flowers 
 Fair Autumn comes to bless our bowers ; 
 Moves she with unstudied grace, 
 Mellow lustre on her face, 
 Along her path flowers spring and bloom 
 And load the air with rich perfume, 
 And songs of birds seem music sweet 
 From rings gem- set that bind her feet. 
 
 Gently flow the maiden streams 
 'Neath the moon's unshaded beams, 
 And fishes glancing in the light 
 Make the wavelets yet more bright, 
 Upon their trembling waters now 
 Lotuses in numbers blow, 
 And like white garlands hung on air 
 The herons deck their bosoms fair. 
 No clouds are on the vasty sky 
 Save its own robes of royalty, 
 Which here are wrought with living gold, 
 And there, white tints and streaks unfold, 
 The dimpling rills, earth, air, and sky, 
 Raise youthful hearts to ecstacy. 
 
 O'er the broad plain and on the hill 
 Night's dusky gleam is lingering still, 
 And the wind with dew-drops laden 
 Pains and grieves the love-lorn maiden, 
 While from lotus' cups it brings 
 Fragrance on it^ downy wings. 
 
( 154 ) 
 
 The landscape brightens ! And the sun 
 His reign of glory hath begun, 
 And night's shades before him yield. 
 The ploughman drives his team a-field. 
 The tracks are soft and ripe the com 
 Waving in the light of morn 
 Like plumes of gold ; sheep and kine 
 By hedgerows on the grass recline, 
 The soft and dallying Autumn breeze 
 Shakes the blossom-laden trees, 
 And in the sunbeam warm and brown 
 Bees are murmuring o'er the down 
 Bearing on their thighs the treasure 
 For their hive, and full of pleasure. 
 No lightning breaks, no rain-bow fair 
 Spans the spacious dome of air, 
 The peacocks and peahens no more 
 Gaze upon the sky's wide floor 
 In silent sorrow, but display 
 Their plumage to the lord of day. 
 Bounds o'er the lawn the nimble deer. 
 And birds are warbling sweet and clear. 
 
 Maidens ! Nature hath surpassed ye ; 
 No face can with the lotus vie. 
 No eyes so beauteous can be found 
 As the blue flowers that bloom around. 
 No brows though dark and bended well, 
 Can the ripplets' curves excel, 
 Nor can ye without shame compare 
 With creepers bright the vegtg ye wear. 
 
( 155 ) 
 
 Upon the margin of the lake, 
 Whose pellucid waters make 
 A mirror for the bending sky, 
 Herons and storks watch patiently ; 
 Young swans sail down all silver-white 
 Their feathers glancing in the light. 
 The round horizon's mingling blue 
 Is bluest now and charms the view ; 
 And rill and cloudlets, lake and sky, 
 Have each attractions for the eye. 
 
 Mark in the cool sequestered shade 
 Of yon wild and arched glade 
 The damsel band ! fair they seem 
 Like bright spirits of a dream, 
 To deck their raven tresses, see 
 They pluck the full-blown mdlatu 
 Their looking-glass the lake serene, 
 Their couch the flower-enamelled green. 
 
 When all around seem bright and glad, 
 Why is the way-worn pilgrim sad ? 
 The wanton breeze, the flowering grove, 
 Remind him of his absent love ; 
 The mellowed moonshine for a while 
 Brought back her own bewitching smile ; 
 And now as shines the Autumn sun 
 On crimson flowers, the lips that won 
 His heart, when life a round of joys did seem 
 Appear as in a transient dream ; 
 And the dark eyes he loves so well 
 Cast o'er hi^ soul a magic spell ! 
 
(From the Sanscrit.) 
 
 It was a spot which Natnre deigned to bless 
 With the cerulean hues of her own loveliness, 
 Sunfleckered vistas opening into glades 
 That gently lost themselves in denser shades, . 
 Wild and luxuriant in their summer prime, 
 Laden with the rich treasures of the time. 
 Eocks tinted blue upreared their summits high 
 Afar, commingling with the bluer sky, 
 And bursting from its source upon those hills 
 Flowed broad and clear, Malini, queen of rills, 
 On its sloped bank was seen at dusk or dawn 
 The " bird of hundred dyes,^ the timid fawn. 
 Here opening flowers in colors bright arrayed 
 With cusa grass a varied carpet made. 
 And there the tendrils of the Madhavi 
 Half hid the old stem of a banian-tree. 
 Forming a fairy bower I At the rain-falls 
 Safe housed therein the chacravaca calls. 
 
 On the east side the lowly hermitage 
 Of Canva stood, the venerable sage. 
 Constant in worship as well rites austere, 
 In all his speech and all his acts sincere, 
 He sought from fleshly bondage full release, 
 Dwelling apart, yet with the world at peace ; 
 Well versed in spells, his power the wood-nymphs 
 owned, 
 
( 157 ) 
 
 Obeyed his mandates as of king enthroned. 
 Curling the smoke from sacred fires oft flew 
 While on the lawn the sun its hot rays threw, 
 And oft at morn or eve the groves among 
 The holy chant rose with the wild-bird's song, 
 Oft on the waters of the Malini 
 Were garlands gay and bilwa-leaves flung free 
 By pupils of the sage as offering, 
 As humble tribute to creation's King. 
 
 A single star is shining in the sky, 
 Its beams sport with the waves most lovingly, 
 And in that tender hour, that light serene, 
 Watering the plants three female forms are seen— 
 What are they ? And is such rare beauty given — 
 Children of earth or apsaris of heaven ? 
 Nymph-like they move and tend — the flowerets new 
 Receive the liquid life and weep adieu. 
 Peeping at those fair damsels as they go 
 Their raven tresses and their breasts of snow. 
 
 Now wakes to life the gentle southern breeze 
 
 Wafting rich odours from the sandal-trees. 
 
 And the nagacessar's fragrant dust is strewn 
 
 Upon each maiden's maiden-veil and zone. 
 
 And the round moon upon the water glows, 
 
 And lotus-chalices begin to close, 
 
 Each with due care plucks from the adjoining bower 
 
 For ornament a sweet sirisha flower, 
 
 And in loved converse all their thoughts engage 
 
 Slowly returning to the hermitage. 
 
®|c €m\ of S«Itaii Safer. 
 
 (From Indian History,) 
 
 Not with a dirgelike moan 
 
 But with clear-ringing tone 
 Near Baber's tomb the sparkling river flows, 
 
 Nor weeping willows wave 
 
 Over the hero's grave, 
 But in a row the flushed pomegranate glows. 
 
 Gaily at morning's prime 
 
 Or close of bright day-time 
 On the gold fruits the golden sunshine falls, 
 
 And in ' full-throated ease/ 
 
 Now chiding, now to please, 
 To his loved mate the cooing cushat calls. 
 
 There youths and damsels gay 
 
 Keep blythesome holiday, 
 A trysting place for lovers and their vows, 
 
 There tender words are breathed 
 
 And wild-flower chaplets wreathed 
 To deck with their white shine fair maiden brows. 
 
 His name inspires not fears 
 
 As when with glittering spears 
 Ten thousand horsemen over India swept, 
 
 Like whirlwind from the North, 
 
 Eiding in fury forth 
 And blood flowed free, and maids and matrons wept. 
 
 But as in happier hour 
 When lute and lay had power 
 
( 159 ) 
 
 And red wine flowed from goblets gem-enchased, 
 
 And dancers all around 
 
 Moved to the timbrel's sound 
 And jocund companies his rich tents graced, 
 
 So under the blue sky, 
 
 That glorious canopy, 
 Around his tomb his people love to sing, 
 
 What time on earth and air. 
 
 In rain-bow colors fair 
 Bursts the rich radiance of departing Spring. 
 
 Flow, regal river, flow, 
 
 And let no sound of woe 
 Disturb the spot where lies the conqueror proud, 
 
 But let the wind and wave 
 
 Sing love-songs to the brave 
 And from the groves a full choir chant aloud. 
 
 Immortal love and joy ! 
 
 None may your power destroy 
 Though mortal bodies mingle with the dust. 
 
 Though Time's Lethean stream 
 
 Bedim the lance's gleam 
 And on the wall the warrior's sword is rust. 
 
 And shower balm-dews ye stars ! 
 
 The trumpet-call of wars 
 Breaks not great Baber's trance serene and sweet, 
 
 Let peace from the pure skies 
 
 And heavenly harmonies 
 And earth's rejoicings gtill his spirit greet. 
 
^t Jjli^y of Jumaoon. 
 
 (From Indian History,) 
 
 At midniglit'o'er the desert sands 
 
 The monarch fled alone, 
 And in the light of paly stars 
 
 His blood-stained armour shone. 
 Disbanded were his glorious ranks, 
 
 His bravest chieftains slain, 
 Yet o'er his wide ancestral realm 
 
 Once more he hoped to reign. 
 
 The gallant barb which he bestrode 
 
 Had travelled far from home, 
 And his dun hide on either side 
 
 Was wet with snow-white foam ; 
 But minding not his toil, he sped 
 
 As swiftly as the wind. 
 To save from foes his regal lord, 
 
 The kindest of the kind. 
 
 As horse and horseman onward passed 
 
 Still feebler waxed the din, 
 The echoing tramp and deafening shout, 
 
 And roar of culverin. 
 * Thou bear'st me well, my barb,' he said, 
 
 ^ Thou bear'st me well this night, 
 And I with jewelled bit and band 
 
 Thy labours will requite.' 
 
 But ere another hour had passed, 
 Down fallg the noble steed ; 
 
( IGl ) 
 
 The king dismounts in fear and haste 
 And looks at him with heed, — 
 
 Distended nostrils, starting eyes, 
 And stiffening limbs display 
 
 That life with him is ebbing fast, 
 And soon shall pass away. 
 
 Beyond the hills, by cloudlets ribbed, 
 
 The broad-disked moon appears, 
 And o'er the vasty sea of sand 
 
 Its crest of fire uprears ; 
 And far a-down the glimmering gleu 
 
 Advance with headlong haste 
 A hundred fugitives to seek 
 
 The refuge of the waste. 
 
 And Tirdi Beg, the veteran chief. 
 
 Among the troop was found, 
 The king accosted him by name, 
 
 But looked he not around ; 
 He plied a-main his blood-stained spurs 
 
 And passed his lord with speed, — 
 Thus e'er the cringing race behave 
 
 When most their aid we need. 
 
 ' Is it for this that from thy youth 
 
 I reared thee in my hall, 
 And favours heaped on thee and thine 
 
 From which ye feared no fall ? 
 Is this the guerdon of my love 
 
 So ecjuable and true ? 
 
( 162 ) 
 
 This night, ungrateful Tirdi Beg, 
 This night thou'lt dearly rue.' 
 
 * Ho ! Tirdi Beg,' brave Koka cried, 
 
 ' Death light upon thy head, 
 Dost thou desert at utmost need 
 
 Him at whose board thou'st fed ? 
 The flashing brand that's in my hand 
 
 Shall cleaye thy skull in twain, 
 If e'er upon the tented field 
 
 I meet thee once again. 
 
 ^ My lord, my king, accept I pray 
 
 A subject's proffered love, 
 Who, though despised at camp and court. 
 
 Disloyal ne'er shall prove ; 
 The steed that bore my mother safe 
 
 Is at my king's command, 
 And she upon a camel fleet 
 
 Shall cross the sea of sand. 
 
 * The foe, the foe, I hear the drum. 
 
 The trumpet's echoing peal, 
 I see the waving of their flags. 
 
 The flashing of their steel. 
 A thousand dark plumes cloud the air, 
 
 A thousand flambeaux burn ; 
 They speed, like eagles from their home. 
 
 Among the mountain fern. 
 
 ' The earth shakes 'neath their charger's tramp, 
 Mount, mount my liege in haste, 
 
( 163 ) 
 
 Ere like the wild and fierce Simoom 
 
 They sweep across the waste, 
 Where Tatta's mountain lift to heaven 
 
 Their diadems of snow, 
 Once more to rear thy banner high, 
 
 Great king ! we now must go.' 
 
 The borrowed steed, with lightning speed, 
 
 Forth darts into the wind, 
 The camel fleet brave Koka leads, 
 
 And follows close behind ; 
 And many a hairbreadth 'scape they made. 
 
 And trying toil o'ercame. 
 Till Tatta's lordly mountain peaks 
 
 Burst forth in garbs of flame. 
 
 And when again, by heaven's decree. 
 
 He won his father's throne, 
 He bade the heralds to proclaim 
 
 The deeds by Koka done ; 
 Jewels and gold — his royal robe, 
 
 And lordly 'states he gave 
 To him who perilled his own life 
 
 His monarch'^ life to save. 
 
{From Indian History.) 
 
 Not as he fled 
 
 Across the desert-sands, a fugitive, 
 
 The silent stars gleaming on bloody vest 
 
 And tiar, and beckoning horse and man 
 
 To mountain fastnesses and solitudes, 
 
 But once more ' the king ' in right royal style 
 
 He came, the city-gates stood decked with flowers 
 
 And open, welcoming the gay cortege ; 
 
 The streets were crowded with a motley throng, 
 
 Who soon made way to honor him again ; 
 
 Merrily the trumpets sounded, the house-tops 
 
 Crowded with lovely women, and children 
 
 In holiday attire, loud echoed back 
 
 The wild fanfare. Many a gilded barge 
 
 Floating in sunset glories on the stream, 
 
 With rowers clad in purple chanting songs. 
 
 Dipped low salutes as the long oars were plied. 
 
 With flower-enwoven mane a milk-white steed 
 
 Bore the loved monarch, while his mounted guard, 
 
 Gallant and gay, whose swords were sheathed 
 
 No more to see the light, behind him came. 
 
 Huge elephants with towers upon their backs, 
 
 Camels with odorous loads^ and rattling cars. 
 
 And cloth of gold, and pennons fluttering. 
 
 Made up the complement of that bright scene. 
 
 As he alighted one long shout arose, 
 
 * So the good triumph and the wicked fall/ 
 
( 165 ) 
 
 Then in the palace hall the feast was spread, 
 And plates of gold shone like so many suna- 
 With blushing fruits and choicest viands crowned, 
 And goblets gleamed with daintiest Shiraz-wine. 
 Before the guests partook the monarch spoke, 
 It was a simple and unstudied speech, 
 ^ The stars that rule a being's destiny 
 May set to rise again, fifteen long years 
 Of exile past I come, you love me friends, 
 Nothing strange, because I feel I love you /' 
 
€\t §tui\ of Jimtt. 
 
 (From Indian History,) 
 
 In war array the elephants and mettled coursers stand, 
 
 The red sun gilds their trappings rare and lights the waste 
 
 of sand. 
 A thousand pennons laced with gold, like meteors wildly 
 
 play, 
 And evermore the trumpet-peal proclaims the coming fray. 
 
 The mounted soldiers in the van, the foot-guards in the rear, 
 
 On either flank the archers and many bristling spear, 
 
 And girt by twice two hundred blades is seen the blazing 
 
 car 
 Of him the leader of the host, amid the ranks afar. 
 
 His form is lithe, his stature tall, his bearing proud and 
 
 bold, 
 His turban is of twisted 3teel, his arms inwrought with 
 
 gold, 
 A girdle round his slender waist, a jewelled dirk he wears. 
 And in his hand, with grasp of power, a naked sword he 
 
 bears. 
 
 ^* Now sound the drums — they come — they come, — I hear a 
 
 mingled roar 
 As when the storm-fiend heaves the sea and waves dash on 
 
 the shore. 
 Unsheathe your sabres all at once, then rush into the fray, 
 And let the vaunting cowards rue the dawning of thi^ day. 
 
( 167 ) 
 
 The dust-cloud screens the bannered files, I see their 
 
 crescents gleam, 
 A long array of burnished shields flash back the morning's 
 
 beam ; 
 Form columns, form ! in torrents pour upon the thirsty sod 
 The dread libation to appease your God, your father's God/' 
 
 A hundred drums at once beat high, at once their swords 
 
 they drew. 
 But wildly from the Moslems rose the well-known " Alla-hu," 
 And cannons dealt destruction round, as with a loud acclaim 
 The hostile ranks in conflict met, mid smoke and din and 
 
 flame. 
 
 The mounted troops of brave Himu in wildering terror fly, 
 For lo ! a hurtling shaft had pierced the gallant chieftain's 
 
 eye. 
 Senseless and bleeding for a space he lies upon the ground. 
 Then mounts in haste a noble barb, and bids his trumpets 
 
 sound. 
 
 He bids his trumpets sound once more, his standards shine 
 
 on high. 
 Once more with voice of thunder shouts for death or victory, 
 Draws out the bloody dart and eye and hies with lightning 
 
 speed 
 From rank to rank, his white plume shines where'er his 
 
 troops recede. 
 
 The charging lines before the foe retreat in wild dismay. 
 And now they burst upon his flanks, hig bravest bands give 
 way, 
 
( 168 ) 
 
 And Kulli with three thousand horse has hemmed him m 
 
 a ring, 
 ^^ Chains for the traitor, ho" ! he cries, " who dares insult the 
 
 kino^." 
 
 Bound hand and foot with chains of steel they led him from 
 
 the field, 
 Gloom loured upon his manly brow, his grief no tear revealed ; 
 Bereft of dagger and of sword, his long locks stiff with gore, 
 Proudly he stood before the king with his red wounds all 
 
 before. 
 
 Fierce Kulli, captain of the guards, spake out in accents loud, 
 '^ Now monarch, slay with thine own hand Himu, the bold 
 
 and proud ;" 
 The king unsheathed his jewelled blade, and to the throng's 
 
 surprise 
 He gently touched the captive's head, and tears burst from 
 
 his eyes. 
 
 <* Shame on thy ill-timed clemency," the captain-general said, 
 " Shame on the heart that shrinks to strike the false, false 
 
 traitor dead," 
 And e'er the king could stay his arm, or speak a single word. 
 He from the royal hand had wrenched that keen and flashing 
 
 sword. 
 
 Right soon he dealt the deathful blow, the head was sundered 
 
 sheer. 
 Then smiled a ghastly smile of joy and fixed it on his spear ; 
 And shouts for this most bloody deed resounded to the sky, 
 And many a piercing fife proclaimed the glorious victory. 
 
{From Indian History.) 
 
 This is no time to weep, my son, 
 By weeping you do wrong, 
 
 But bear thee up right manfully, 
 And in God's love be strong. 
 
 Lovely and large thy heritage, 
 
 As lovely as a bride, 
 To keep her still thine own gird on 
 
 That bright sword by thy side. 
 
 See now it hangs on yonder wall 
 (For powerless is the hand 
 
 That wielded it in hunt or fray) 
 My own, my noble brand. 
 
 Read what is writ on either side 
 And write it in your breast, 
 
 Those characters of gold shine clear 
 * The merciful are blest.' 
 
 Upon the jewelled hilt or haft 
 The diamond-sparks bespeak 
 
 The grasp around it must be pure 
 Though not infirm or weak. 
 
 w 
 
( 170 ) 
 
 At honor's beck, in kingdom's cause, 
 
 Like lightning let it fall ; 
 With power arenge the oppressed and wronged. 
 
 And justly rule o'er all. 
 
 The blood-stains on the polished steel 
 
 At mercy's fount make clean, 
 And may thy battle-fields right soon 
 
 With waving crops be green. 
 
 In all the triumphs, all the joys 
 
 Which thy good angel brings, 
 Forget not to give glory, son, 
 
 To God the King of kings. 
 
 His blessing crave, his grace implore, 
 
 Alike in weal and woe. 
 Long be thy reign in this fair land,— 
 
 I go where all things go. 
 
Iter it^il. 
 
 {From Indian History,) 
 
 ^^ let me see my noble lord, and let me clasp once more 
 The hand that set this seal of death and kiss it o'er and o'er, 
 No fickle love is his, I know, that changeth with the day, 
 A love as strong as rooted rock that steadfast is alway ; 
 It cannot be that noble he should thus demand the life 
 Of one he wooed to be his own while yet another's wife, 
 'Tis false Mohabet with his wiles has forged the Emperor's 
 
 name, 
 Is burning in his thirst for blood to do a deed of shame." 
 
 Thus spake she to the messenger as shone the morning sun 
 On the white canvas of the tents, her toilet-work was done, 
 Her charms a livelier flush had gained for tear-drop and for 
 
 frown, 
 And over her dark tresses gleamed the topaz-circled crown. 
 A consciousness of being loved gives mastery over fears, 
 And she in this proud consciousness before her lord appears, 
 A flash of light, a radiant dream, he sees in wonderment 
 The peerless form of Noor Mahil in his imprisonment. 
 
 There sat Mohabet, valiant chief, whose own good sword had 
 
 won 
 The fights which quelled the hosts of the Emperor's rebel 
 
 son, 
 Too soon Jehangire's ire against his trusty servant rose, 
 For many slandered his fair name and many were his foes, 
 
( 172 ) 
 
 But he who threatened gyves and wrack himself a prisoner 
 
 made 
 Was kept in noble luxury, was honored and obeyed, 
 Rich viands, music, jets and flowers within a palace grand, 
 The Rajput guards were all around, none braver in the land. 
 
 " Is it a crime my lord, my king, to love alas ! too well. 
 
 To wield the golden rod with power when from thy hand it 
 
 fell, 
 Is it a crime my lord, my king, for thee to God to moan, 
 To wish to see thee once again upon thy father's throne. 
 Is it a crime my lord, my king, for woman's soul to rise 
 With the arrow deep infixt like an eagle to the skies ? 
 If these be crimes then nevermore thy love again I claim. 
 Then mine be all the punishment, for mine is all the blame. 
 
 But ah ! if duty urged me on, and nerved this feeble hand 
 To guide the war-horse in the fray or wield the flashing 
 
 brand. 
 Then all I've thought and all I've done my lord will sure 
 
 approve. 
 The headsman's stroke must need revoke and love with 
 
 greater love. 
 The guards are peering all around as here I weeping stand, 
 A queen and yet a culprit for whate'er thou mayst command, 
 Speak but the word and fearless to the prison-cell I go. 
 What cares this wretched miscreant for me or for my woe ?" 
 
 Mohabet smiled, he knew her crimes, but yet he saw it plain 
 That he that signed the writ to slay, himself in truth was 
 glain, 
 
( 173 ) 
 
 He waved his hand, the guards dispersed, and then he left the 
 
 scene, 
 So beauty and valor triumphed, for she of both was queen : — 
 A lovelier form than Noor MahiFs ne'er sat on India's throne, 
 A prouder heart than Noor Mahil's in woman ne'er was 
 
 known, 
 In palace-hall a shining light, in camp a flaming star. 
 All eyes were turned to Noor Mahil alike in peace and war. 
 
{From Indian History.) 
 
 They galloped, mad-gallop, o'er field, through wood, 
 
 Their garments besmeared with their loved ones' blood, 
 
 It was night and the stars above were few, 
 
 Cloud-flakes hung dark while the moon struggled through, 
 
 The wind it sounded a sad requiem-swell, 
 
 To the loved and lost a mournful farewell, 
 
 The striped hyena in wonderment stood. 
 
 They galloped, mad-gallop, o'er field, through wood. 
 
 Behind them was heard the pursuers' cry, 
 The Chumbul before flung foam-froths on high, 
 The broad stream had swollen by months of rain, 
 It tossed, it groaned, like a Triton in pain, 
 On either side of the turreted bank 
 Like tresses dishevelled hung osiers dank, 
 And far in front, forms looming and strange, 
 Eose the mountain-heights of the Vindya range. 
 
 Near a rocky gorge over-grown with reeds 
 
 They halted and turned their swift-flying steeds, 
 
 They halted and turned, the gallant mea three, 
 
 Lodi the brave and the sons of Lodi, 
 
 Their brows were most sad, their followers were few, 
 
 But faithful and tried and of mettle true, 
 
 All silently by that stern, silent rock, 
 
 They stood for the approaching army's ^hock. 
 
( 175 ) 
 
 Now in the east there are glimmerings of light, 
 The foe rushes on with their sabres bright, 
 They charge, but fall back, for the desp'rate men 
 Are hacking a hundred while they hack ten, 
 "Fly father," says Azmut, " 'mid the wild jar 
 What boots it to fight this unequal war ? 
 Fly thou, save thy life, plunge into yon stream, 
 Leave us to die here as soldiers beseem." 
 
 With a tear in his eye, whirling his brand 
 Lodi clears at a bound the strip of land, 
 The stream bears up deftly rider and horse 
 (Though writhing and tossing in all its force). 
 Who with his ears pricked out and startling neigh. 
 His neck, crop, and mane, all white with the spray, 
 The opposite bank of the Chumbul gains. 
 And his master once more gives loose to the reins* 
 
 He quits his own Malwa's eastern confines 
 And is galloping o'er the diamond mines 
 Of Bundela far-famed, where temples fair 
 Lift golden cupolas into the air, 
 Stops there a while but soon leaves them behind 
 And gallops as gallops the moaning wind, 
 The good steed unflagging his master brings 
 To the tombs of Golconda'^ line of kings. 
 
 He was noble and brave, as hero should be. 
 
 Nor fawned on the great, true-hearted Lodi ; 
 
 Sternly defying the Emperor's wrath. 
 
 He brake his high plans and crossed hig proud path, 
 
( 17G ) 
 
 Sorrows he conquered, great perils he past ; 
 And fell on the field of battle at last. 
 The whizzing hot ball through his target ran, 
 He fell and his guard was cut down to a man. 
 
 So ended the days of those sons of the free, 
 Lodi the brave and the men of Lodi. 
 
(From Indian History.) 
 
 Where should beauty sleep but in a palace 
 
 Gem-enchased and vast ! Bring the wealth of Ind 
 
 And build me such an one and on its walls 
 
 Inscribe, in golden characters, the faith ; 
 
 Raise a white dome and lofty minarets 
 
 And steadfast let the crescent-pointed spire 
 
 Point up to heaven. Form a large rotunda 
 
 Of marble, and enclose the central spot 
 
 With screen of trelliswork in marble whereon 
 
 May flowers of every hue perennial bloom, 
 
 Not those which bud, expand, and fade away, 
 
 But worked mosaic with gems and precious stones, 
 
 Cornelian, agate, lapis-lazuli, 
 
 And others that lie hid in mine or sea. 
 
 So construct the dome that voice of anger 
 
 Or unhallowed merriment shall call up 
 
 Loud chiding echoes from its sounding depths, 
 
 But whispered words of love shall be prolonged 
 
 Like far-heard anthems sung by angel-choirs. 
 
 All around, a garden in which cypresses 
 
 Should shade the walks and yet the ground be starred 
 
 With blossoms, and from blossom-spangled glades 
 
 The bulbul chant love-ditties to the rose. 
 
 And in that spacious garden, here and there, 
 
 Set crystal vases gleaming white and fed 
 
 By fountain jetg, grove and bending sky 
 
( 178 ) 
 
 Glassing themselves in a pellucid tank. 
 
 Nor should be wanting other trees which yield 
 
 Eefreshment to the weary traveller, — 
 
 The mango, citron, orange, plum, and peach, 
 
 Whose juices nectarine serve to allay 
 
 E'en fever-thirst and life and joy impart. 
 
 From age to age the palace and the grounds 
 
 Will form mementos of enduring love. 
 
 Such love as has been mine and now I feel, 
 
 Such love as Mejnoun to his Leili bore, 
 
 Or Khusroo to the beautiful Sheri, 
 
 Such love alone is registered in heaven. 
 
 Stranger ! whoe'er thou art whose footsteps roam 
 
 Within the precincts of this monument 
 
 Be mindful of its sombre sanctity. 
 
 Nor with rude jest nor with unthinking laugh 
 
 Its silence break, nor with the spoiler's hand 
 
 Displace the gems, but pause and meditate 
 
 On heavenly love, and her who is in lieaven. 
 
^uruuti^eb at \p Jfal^er's kicr. 
 
 {From Indian History.) 
 
 The monarch lay upon his bier, 
 
 Censers were burning low, 
 As through the loft arches streamed* 
 
 The setting sun's red glow. 
 Still grasped he in his hand the blade 
 
 Which well-fought fields had won, 
 And Aurungzebe beside him knelt, 
 
 Usurper proud and son ! 
 
 Kemorse had stricken his false heart 
 
 And quenched his wonted fire, 
 With gloomy brow and look intent 
 
 He gazed upon his sire : 
 Can tyrant death make him afraid ? 
 
 Hot tears burst from his eyes 
 As thus his grief found vent in words 
 
 To the warrior-train's surprise. 
 
 '* Father, thou wert the goodliest king 
 
 That e'er the sceptre swayed. 
 How could I then lift up my arm 
 
 Against thee undismayed. 
 How could I send thee here to pine 
 
 Usurp the peacock-throne,* 
 
 * Constructed by Shah Jehan. It took its name from its resemblance; 
 to a peacock with his tail spread, 
 
( 180 ) 
 
 had I perished in the womb 
 That deed were left undone. 
 
 See, all is changed that was estranged, 
 
 Awake my sire, my king, 
 See, soldiers in their war array 
 
 Thy son in fetters bring ! 
 Thy rebel son who will abide 
 
 Thy word what e'er it be, 
 And fearless meet the wrack or steel, 
 
 Rise up once more and see ! 
 
 Thou wilt not hear — thou wilt not speak^ 
 
 It is the last long sleep. — 
 And am I not a king myself ? 
 
 What means these stirrings deep ? 
 O foolish eyes, what means this rheum ? 
 
 I will not call them tears ; 
 My heart that nothing e'er could daunt 
 
 Is faint with boding fears. 
 
 The past appears ! a checkered field 
 
 Of guilt and shame and war, 
 What evil influence ruled my birth^ 
 
 What swart malignant star 1 
 Why did I barter peace of mind 
 
 For royal pomp and state ? 
 Mad for the baleful meteor's gleam, 
 
 With worldly joys elate. 
 
( 181 ) 
 
 Eemembered voices speak my name 
 
 And call me parricide, 
 The murdered Dara beckons me — 
 
 He was thy joy and pride : 
 And thus I fling the dear-bought crown, 
 
 But whither can I fly ? 
 The awful thought still follows me 
 
 That even kings will die*' ! 
 
®ljc lakli; 
 
 Wear, wear this fillet round thy arm, 
 
 Thou brave and noble knight, 
 Thy gallant war-horse paws the ground, 
 
 Impatient for the fight. 
 
 A sister's love for thee hath wrought 
 
 This silken tie so fair, 
 That thou protected by the gods 
 
 The deadly fray may'st share. 
 
 Thy flashing eyes full plainly tell 
 
 Thou'lt not disgrace the band, 
 If e'er the impetuous tide of war 
 
 Roll where thy loved ones stand. 
 
 And sheath not, knight, thy gleaming blade, 
 
 Till routed is the foe ; 
 And as the chaff before the wind. 
 
 Before thy ranks they go. 
 
 And when by glorious Victory crowned 
 
 Thou tread'st the bloody field, 
 Spare, by my tears, the wounded foe ; 
 
 Be thou their help and shield. 
 
 But hark ! the tocsin's quivering peal 
 
 Bursts on my ear from far — 
 Mount, mount thy steed that proudly neighs 
 
 To join the ranks of war. 
 
 * Is a cincture of red silk or thi'ead expressive of the closest ties of 
 fraternal relationship. 
 
(From Indian History J 
 
 She sat upon her palfry white, 
 
 That damsel fair and young, 
 And from the jewelled belt she wore, 
 
 Her trusty rapier hung ; 
 And chieftains bold, and warriors proud, 
 Around her formed a gallant crowd. 
 
 A helmet clasped her forehead fair, 
 
 A shield was by her side — 
 The helmet was of polished steel — 
 
 The shield of bison's hide ; 
 And as she spake, the evening air 
 Disported with her raven hair. 
 
 * From girlhood, I have shunned the sports 
 
 In which our sex delight, 
 And learnt instead to use the sword, 
 
 And wield the falchion bright; 
 To meet the tigress turned to bay, 
 And guide the war-horse in the fray. 
 
 ^ From girlhood, I have vowed a vow 
 
 Our honour to redeem, 
 And make my noble father's name 
 
 Of every song the theme ; 
 
 *The Star of Bednore, the heroic wife of Prithi Raj, the Troubadour of 
 Mewar. A monumental altar, erected to their memory, is to be seen near 
 the fortress of Komulmair, a fortress, I am told, singularly picturesque 
 in appearance rising tier above tier mid chaotic masses of mountains co- 
 vered with the cactm which luxuriate amid the rocks of the Aravulli, 
 
( 184 ) 
 
 To rescue Thoda from the slave 
 Who lives to fill a coward's grave. 
 
 ^ And till my life-blood's purple flow 
 Stands stagnant in my veins, 
 
 That early vow to see fulfilled 
 
 I'll spare nor strength, nor pains — 
 
 To those who join me in the war 
 
 I'll be a radiant beacon star ! 
 
 * My hand — 'tis his who foremost scales 
 
 The ramparts of the foe, 
 And to the wicked Lilla deals 
 
 The dread avenging blow ; 
 Go, warriors — these alone decide 
 The man who wins me as big bride.' 
 
(From Indian History.) 
 
 Through the keen March air its sounding way 
 
 The blast of a horn is winging, 
 While there and here gleam shield and spear 
 
 And bridle-bits are ringing. 
 
 In that mountain glen live gallant men 
 
 Who own nor king nor law, 
 At their chieftain's nod they bend their bows 
 
 And eke their swords they draw. 
 
 This morn in Torna's wooded vales 
 
 The gathering-call sounds long, 
 And Torna beetles on the crag 
 
 With towers and turrets strong. 
 
 The jocund sunbeams sportively 
 
 Advancing, leaping fast. 
 Kindles on them light which seemeth 
 
 A conflagration vast. 
 
 Those gallant men, but ten times ten, 
 
 Kesolved to do or die, 
 Have pledged to take ere close of day 
 
 That fortress strong and high. 
 
 (Nor lacked they due encouragement, 
 
 Their heaven-sent leader gave 
 To each a talisman of power. 
 
 Thus braver waxed the brave.) 
 
 ^ Marked ye, ' said he, ' the fiery glow 
 Around its white ^tone-towers 
 
 T 
 
( 186 ) 
 
 The gods are ready to help us 
 To-day the place is ours. 
 
 The gods are good, no human blood 
 
 In this our raid shall flow, 
 One dash and cheer — all shall be clear, 
 
 We soon shall find it so'. 
 
 In light and shade the band arrayed 
 Thrice draw the tough bow-strings, 
 
 Three hundred arrows cloud the air 
 And Torna's brass gate rings. 
 
 Then galloping with bristling spears 
 They rush to gain the height, 
 
 A shout from the stern leader bursts 
 * See, see, again that light' ! 
 
 And though on Torna's highest tower 
 
 His purple flag is flying, 
 No blood its court with marble laid, 
 
 Or outward slopes is dyeing. 
 
 The kilidar for his life now sued 
 
 And owned the forest-lord 
 As victor, and at once laid down 
 
 His turban and his sword. 
 
 Within the fortress' vaults were found 
 Bright gold, and many a gem 
 
 Which served in coming time to grace 
 Sivajee's diadem. 
 
 And Neera's flood that through the wood 
 
 Kan singing, and each tree 
 Moved by the breeze, did celebrate 
 
 This bloodless victory. 
 
POEMS-MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
§lmpts. 
 
 When musing sadly on the days gone by 
 I sit all lonely at the hush of even, 
 To greet me then with every tearful sigh 
 Come unseen visitants from God's own heaven. 
 
 In sober silence doth my spirit hold 
 Converse with those impalpable to sight, 
 The true nobility, the tried, the bold, 
 The loved and loving, children of the light. 
 
 It is not fancy — for can fancy give 
 The holy calm that settles on my breast ? 
 The world of turmoil in which here we live 
 Is not far distant from the world of rest. 
 
 The soul encased in this gross body's prison 
 Hath sympathies that largely will expand 
 Yes, all through the beamings of that Sun arisen ; 
 These are but glimpses of the heavenly land. 
 
 Nor are the lessons which those angels bring 
 Useless in balancing Hfe's wild career, 
 Strong in each duty — meek in suffering, 
 To be what they have been — are whispered clear. 
 
 But there is one in that blest company 
 Whose silent language thrown a deeper charm 
 
( 190 ) 
 
 O'er all my senses, and who seems to be 
 My special guardian set to save from harm. 
 
 '^ Say — radiant spirit — where is thy bright home ? 
 And what in heayen thou lovest now to do ? 
 That flowing robe whiter than white sea-foam, 
 That crown with gems like sun- tipped drops of dew, 
 
 Whence are they thine ? for while thou wast here 
 The partner of my griefs, in humbleness 
 Thou spent'st thy days" — I heard that voice so dear 
 ^^ Do thou the same and God will surely bles§." 
 
Eoses ! Roses ! Roses ! 
 Falling as I stand 
 From the bowers of Eden, 
 From higeian land ! 
 
 Roses in my garden 
 Shedding soft perfume, 
 Roses in my vases 
 In the blush of bloom. 
 
 Roses on thy dark locks 
 And thy garment's hem, 
 On thy breast a rose-bud 
 Just pluckt from its stem. 
 
 All around me roses, 
 Roses large and small, 
 Roses upon canvas 
 Hanging on the wall. 
 
 Roses on the carpet, 
 Roses on the screen, 
 Those are glowing proudly. 
 These 'mid leaves of green. 
 
 Prattling human roses 
 With their dew-lit eyes 
 Smiling, playing, hiding 
 For some gay surprise. 
 
 Ever thus may roses 
 Lighten my life's gloom. 
 And in radiant colors 
 Burst upon my tomb. 
 
fines. 
 
 Fair stream ! upon whose flower-enamelled side 
 Listless at eve I love alone to lie, 
 Whose placid bosom mirrors tree and sky, 
 
 I'll sing of thee — thou art the landscape's pride ! 
 
 Now 'neath o'er-arching boughs thy waters glide, 
 Now brightly laughing 'neath Apollo's eye, 
 Wild and impatient as the winds blow high. 
 
 And more than calm when softly they subside. 
 
 Well hath the poet said sparkling river, 
 
 ^ A thing of beauty is a joy for ever' ! 
 
Siljose Cinnmon mts. 
 
 Those Cinnamon trees ! those Cinnamon trees, 
 Fondly I love those Cinnamon trees, 
 With their ovate leaves and silky flowers 
 Turning to fragrance the dripping showers 
 From every slender and bark-bound stem, 
 
 how I love to muse under them ! 
 
 Cassia or Balm of Gilead Fir 
 
 Can never my soul with such feelings stir 
 
 As when, while sinks the sun's broad zone, 
 
 1 walk in the Cinnamon-grove alone ; 
 Thoughts lovely come with the rising breeze, 
 And I love the more those Cinnamon trees. 
 
 Once they belonged to that forest of gold 
 In which Sita, the peerless, sorrowed of old, 
 Transplanted with care o'er inland and sea 
 They graced the borders of famed Araby ; 
 In Yemen the happy, they sturdily grew, 
 Feet washed by sea-waves and tops by dew. 
 
 But ah ! I confess it is not for these 
 That I so love those Cinnamon trees 
 That at morning and noon and close of day 
 With them so often I speak and play. 
 Now guess, dear friend, what may it be, 
 That hath go endeared the trees to me. 
 
 ^ 
 
( 194 ) 
 
 One sultry noon with mind tempest- tost, 
 Thinking that all I had won was lost, 
 For solace, Trees ! I came to you 
 Listened, and heard the ring-dove's coo. 
 Then all my doubts were put to shame 
 On the odorous bark I saw my name. 
 
 Those Cinnamon trees ! those Cinnamon trees ! 
 Fondly I love those Cinnamon trees 
 With their ovate leaves and silky flowers 
 Turning to fragrance the dripping showers 
 From every slender and bark-bound stem, 
 how I love to muse under them I 
 
{A mental picture,) 
 
 O'er the brown and parched land 
 Night stretches forth her ebon wand, 
 Countless orbs their beams have lent 
 To light the azure firmament, 
 While with a steady ray from far 
 Brightly burns the polar star. 
 
 The crescent of Diana shines 
 Faintly through the hoary pines, 
 While the long shadows which they make, 
 Gleam dark athwart the placid lake. 
 Startling the elves that shun the day, 
 But nightly o'er the waters play. 
 
 And all is hushed — no other sound 
 Disturbs the stillness so profound. 
 Save what the green sea-billows make, 
 While bursting winds are all awake, 
 Sleep silent earth ! while thus to thee 
 Old ocean sings her lullaby. 
 
^ums. 
 
 Is this the spot where monarehs proud 
 
 Erst held their regal sway, 
 And suppliant courtiers thronged around 
 
 Their biddings to obey ? 
 Are these the relics of the hall 
 
 Where beauteous damsels sung, 
 Whose fretted roof and tapestried wall 
 
 With peals of music rung ? 
 
 The portals from which issued once 
 
 A hundred men abreast, 
 (With glittering spear and bended bow, 
 
 And shield and waving crest) 
 AVith trees and wild shrubs over-grown 
 
 In smoky ruins lie, 
 And view their image in the stream 
 
 That murmurs plaintively. 
 
 The owlet from the rifted tower 
 
 Sends forth a boding scream, 
 The bat now wings his heavy flight 
 
 Beneath the moon's pale beam. 
 The raven rocks her callow young 
 
 Upon her downy breast, 
 The spider in the dreary nook 
 
 Weaves out her filmy nest. 
 
( 197 ) 
 
 Tlio' years roll on, yet in their strength 
 
 The rock-ribbed mountains stay, 
 And as it rolled at dawn of time 
 
 So rolls the sea to-day. 
 But man and all his mighty works 
 
 Are doomed to death alone. 
 Then wherefore lose the precious hours 
 
 We yet may call our own ? 
 
India. 
 
 yes ! I love thee with a boundless love 
 Land of my birth ! and while I lisp thy name, 
 Burns in my soul ' an ^tna of pure flame' 
 
 Which none can quench — nor aught on earth remove. 
 
 Back from the shrouded past, as with a spell, 
 
 Thy days of glory memory recalls, 
 
 And castles rise, and towers, and flanking walls, 
 
 And soldiers live — for thee dear land who fell. 
 
 But as from dreams of bliss men wake to mourn 
 
 So mourn I when that vision is no more, 
 
 And in poor lays thy widowed fate deplore, 
 
 Thy trophies gone — thy beauteous laurels torn, 
 
 But Time shall yet be mocked ; — though these decay 
 
 1 see broad streaks of a ^till brighter day. 
 
Sonnet. 
 
 An Indian Morning. 
 
 The clouds at night their darksome ranks advanced, 
 
 And rains descended in continuous floods 
 
 O'er my lone bower and o'er the encircling woods, 
 
 As through the air the fitful lightning glanced, 
 
 But genial sunshine gilds anew the sky, 
 
 The stately trees are bathed in golden light, 
 
 All nature laughs with transports of delight, 
 
 All nature joins in one glad symphony ; 
 
 At such an hour 'tis ecstacy to stand 
 
 On some green upland, and from thence to view 
 
 The far-ofi* mountains mingling with the blue, 
 
 And all that God has lavished on the land, 
 
 To kneel upon the flower-besprinkled sod, 
 
 To kneel and lift our suppliant soub to God, 
 
Sfinnd. 
 
 Gangoutri. 
 
 'Mid frowning rocks with wild- shrubs overgrown 
 The river hath its passage found ; lo ! now 
 It comes, fierce foaming, as 'twould drown 
 At once all substances in its track. Below 
 A bristly front the shattered crags present, 
 A bristly front the stunted trees display, 
 That meet with pride supreme the sheer descent 
 Of foaming waters ! The resplendent ray 
 Of morning gilds the sky, and as the breeze 
 Scatters in diamond-showers the living spray 
 Around the ruined stones and leafless trees, 
 A rainbow crowns the air ! A moment stay, 
 My friend, and mark, the torrent chafes along 
 Fretting and whitening as it sings itg song. 
 
% Sislj for llinf^r. 
 
 Oh, wlicn will winter come again 
 
 To bless my hearth and home, 
 That I once more on dew-decked lawns 
 
 With buoyant steps may roam, 
 And drink the cool fresh morning air, 
 And bask beneath the sunlight fair ? 
 
 In northern climes the songs are few 
 That sound hoar winter's praise, 
 
 Yet there for aye he loves to dwell, 
 Mantled in silver haze ; 
 
 To us his passing visits seem 
 
 As fleeting as a pleasant dream. 
 
 The day-god from his throne on high 
 
 Darts down his fiery beams, 
 And like a sheet of molten gold 
 
 The lake's still water gleams ; 
 The foliage of the trees no more 
 Ketain the glossy green they wore. 
 
 'Tis silence all, save when in gusts 
 
 The burning blast sweeps by. 
 And like a voice denouncing woe, 
 
 It sounds along the sky ; 
 Oh, when will Winter in his train 
 Bring back health-giving winds again? 
 
 2 a 
 
( 202 ) 
 
 No clouds defile the azure arch 
 That spans the spacious earth, 
 
 The creatures of the fields no more 
 Run races in their mirth. 
 
 All — all retire ; — the very snakes 
 
 Seek the cool shelter of the brakes. 
 
 Oh, when will winter come again 
 To bless my hearth and home, 
 
 That I once more on dew-decked lawns 
 With buoyant steps may roam, 
 
 And drink the cool fresh morning air, 
 
 And bask beneath the sunlight fair ? 
 
Soil. 
 
 A LYRIC FOR THE AGE. 
 
 No nobler brotherhood can bind 
 Man to man or mmd to mind 
 Than the brotherhood of toil, 
 None can ever 
 That link sever — 
 Up and work, sons of the soil ! 
 
 Toil, the strong cement that ties 
 Zealous souls, comes from the skies, 
 Ever conquering, ever sure. 
 On sea and land 
 Its trophies stand, 
 And from age to age endure. 
 
 Poets, statesmen, heroes, sages 
 In all countries, of all ages, 
 
 Lived anxious lives of toil and care : 
 What generous fire 
 Their names inspire, 
 Their noble works are everywhere ! 
 
 Stately ships at anchor ride 
 On the river's swelling tide, 
 
 Like strong fortresses they stand : 
 O'er seas they go. 
 Though rough winds blow. 
 And bring rich goods from every land. 
 
( 204 ) 
 
 Mark the iron-horse advancing 
 (While behind the smoke goes dancing), 
 Moving with a thundering noise) 
 So bouncing, strong, 
 With train so long, 
 Keep her right and tight, brave boys ! 
 
 The message which upon its wings 
 From lands remote the lightning brings 
 The needle's quivering tongue explains : 
 The dark is clear, 
 The distant near, 
 We hear the clang on battle-plains. 
 
 Green spots of verdure meet the eye 
 Where sterile soil and brazen sky 
 
 Eepelled the sight with stubborn glare ; 
 The trowels ring. 
 On bare wastes spring 
 Schools, hospitals, and buildings fair. 
 
 Then loudly let Toil's anvil sound 
 If Toil such blessings scatter round, 
 And swiftly let his high wheels go : 
 Though none can guess 
 God's purposes. 
 In patience let each toil below. 
 
gmq |igcons. 
 
 Small wooden houses set in row, 
 
 All painted white and green, 
 For fairies or for dapper elves ? 
 
 Or some proud elfin-queen ? 
 A Lilliputian neighbourhood ! 
 
 Full of the sounds of life, 
 Of feasting, cooing, (ceaseless hum) 
 
 And of vain-glorious strife. 
 
 Who are the denizens ? — I see ; 
 
 Most fairy-like are they. 
 With mottled breasts and wings of blue, 
 
 And necks so glossy-gay, 
 There's Lady Fantail, high-born dame, 
 
 With Dragoons at the gate. 
 And Tumblers to mount up and vault 
 
 Her queenly beck await. 
 
 One Trumpeter, a swarthy Moor, 
 
 The lists is pacing proud, 
 Ean ta ra ra ran ta ro. 
 
 He sounds his trumpet loud. 
 A Horseman with his spear in rest 
 
 Darts at him in full speed, 
 Mark, how they grapple, tug, and strain, 
 
 Mark, how the warriors bleed. 
 
 Bald-pates and Beards in council sit 
 With Owls and Helmets, long, 
 
( 206 ) 
 
 To regulate the common-wealth, 
 And judge of right and wrong. 
 
 Cases of tort (as lawyers say) 
 Come up most rapidly, 
 
 Assaults, ejectments, and such-like, 
 But none for bigamy. 
 
 Miss Barb with scarlet-circled eyes 
 
 Is now so deeply in 
 With dandy Turbit and his frill, 
 
 To hold back would be sin. 
 The Carrier to invite the priest 
 
 Is flying from the bin, 
 But ah ! must all the truth be told 
 
 About this Capuchin ? 
 
 Not far from his own home there lived 
 
 A pensive pearl-eyed Nun, 
 A heart which many tried to win, 
 
 But no one yet had won. 
 Last evening about sunset time 
 
 I saw with mine own eyes 
 The old gray monk in sportive mood 
 
 Fly with her to the skies. 
 
8|e 8ba Jflflfoers. 
 
 (From the French,) 
 
 Besides a garden's winding walk, 
 (When flowering-plants all knew to talk) 
 Two plants close to each other grew, 
 Fed by the morning's pearly dew. 
 Their names I shall at once disclose, 
 The Tuhp gay and scented Eose. 
 But envy mars the happiness 
 Of those whom all men do caress. 
 ^* Are not my tints," the Tulip said, 
 ^' More bright, more various, than the staid 
 And queenly Eose's ! Why doth she share 
 More of the gard'ner's love and care ?" 
 The gardener Hodge did overhear. 
 And thus replied in accents clear, 
 " Dame Tulip, 'tis not for outward part 
 I love, but qualities of heart." 
 
 Moral. 
 External beauty charms the sense, 
 But never calls forth love intense : 
 Who in heart-qualities excel, 
 They bind ug with a magic-spell. 
 
(From the French,) 
 
 With panniers stocked and well supplied, 
 Two donkeys to the market hied ; 
 And to each other, as they went, 
 In praise of self their long ears lent, 
 Saith Master Grison to his brother, 
 *' What fools be men thus us to bother, 
 As drudges, we come of noble race : 
 They yield not us our proper place. 
 The steeds they deck with trappings rare 
 Can such with asses hold compare ? 
 In manners, courtesy, we excel, 
 In other qualities as well ; 
 And as to voice, O when we sing, 
 Do we not make the village ring ? 
 Is this not true, dear brother, say ?" 
 Aliboron did loudly bray ! 
 
 Moral. 
 Silly people fond of glory, 
 Like the asses in this story. 
 When they can find none other elves 
 To praise them, often praise themselves. 
 
(From the French,) 
 
 Two books each by the other stood 
 Upon a book-case of teak-wood, 
 One gilt and bound in green and gold, 
 The other was worm-eaten, old, 
 ** I cannot," the gay volume brags, 
 ^' Bear amity to one in rags, 
 A finished gentleman like mo 
 Should be in better company. 
 Where on this earth doth beau or belle 
 Side by side with the vulgar dwell ? 
 Away Old Book, thou'rt so unclean, 
 I like not friendship with the mean." 
 
 Next day to the bookseller's stall 
 A student came, glanced over all 
 The well-filled case, then as he pried, 
 The loving neighbours soon espied, 
 Took down the volume that was old, 
 Read, admired, and bought it with gold. 
 The other now engaged his mind 
 But nothing in it could he find 
 Worth reading, and the knowing elf 
 At once replaced it on the shelf. 
 Saying, "the binder all his pain 
 Hath spent upon this trash in vain." 
 
 Moral. 
 It is in quality of mind 
 That true nobility we find. 
 Your ^pink of fashion' oft may be 
 The very dreg of infamy. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 Sj\t Sorb our ^igfitasness. 
 
 Jer. XXIII— 6. 
 
 My God, how perfect are thy ways ! 
 
 But mine polluted are ; 
 Sin twines itself about my praise, 
 
 And slides into my prayer. 
 
 When I would speak what thou hast done 
 
 To save me from my sin, 
 I cannot make thy mercies known 
 
 But self- applause creeps in. 
 
 Divine desire, that holy flame 
 
 Thy grace creates in me ; 
 Alas ! impatience is its name, 
 
 When it returns to thee. 
 
 This heart a fountain of vile thoughts, 
 
 How does it over-flow, 
 While self upon the surface floats. 
 
 Still bubbling from below. 
 
 Let others in the gaudy dress 
 
 Of fancied merit shine ; 
 The Lord shall be my righteousness, 
 
 The Lord for ever mine. 
 
 COWPER. 
 
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