But wisest Fate says no, This must not yet be so; The Babe yet lies in smiling infancy That on the bitter cross Must redeem our loss, So both himself and us to glorify: Yet first, to those chained in sleep, The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep. With such a horrid clang As on Mount Sinai rang, While the red fire and smouldering clouds outbrake; The aged earth, aghast With terror of that blast, Shall from the surface to the center shake, When at the world's last session, The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread his throne. And then at last our bliss Full and perfect is, But now begins; for from this happy day The old Dragon underground, In straiter limits bound, Not half so far casts his usurped sway; And wroth to see his kingdom fail, Swings the scaly horror of his folded tail. The oracles are dumb; No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance, or breathed spell, Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell. The lonely mountains o'er, And the resounding shore, A voice of weeping heard and loud lament; From haunted spring, and dale Edged with poplar pale, The parting Genius is with sighing sent; With flower-inwoven-tresses torn The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn. In consecrated earth, And on the holy hearth, The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint; In urns and altars round, Affrights the flamens at their service quaint; And the chill marble seems to sweat, While each peculiar power forgoes his wonted seat. Peor and Baälim Forsake their temples dim, With that twice-battered god of Palestine; And mooned Ashtaroth, Heaven's queen and mother both, Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine; The Libyc Hammon shrinks his horn; In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn. And sullen Moloch, fled, Hath left in shadows dread His burning idol all of blackest hue; In vain with cymbals' ring They call the grisly king, In dismal dance about the furnace blue; The brutish gods of Nile as fast, Isis and Orus and the dog Anubis, haste. Nor is Osiris seen In Memphian grove or green, Trampling the unshowered grass with lowings loud; Nor can he be at rest Within his sacred chest; Naught but profoundest Hell can be his shroud; In vain, with timbrelled anthems dark, The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipped ark. He feels from Juda's land The dreaded Infant's hand; The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn; Nor all the gods beside Longer dare abide, Nor Typhon huge ending in snaky twine: Our Babe, to show his Godhead true, Can in his swaddling bands control the damned crew. So when the sun in bed, Curtained with cloudy red, Pillows his chin upon an orient wave, The flocking shadows pale Troop to the infernal jail, Each fettered ghost slips to his several grave, And the yellow-skirted fays Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-loved maze. But see! The Virgin blest Hath laid her Babe to rest. Time is our tedious song should here have ending: Heaven's youngest-teemed star Hath fixed her polished car Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending; And all about the courtly stable Bright-harnessed angels sit in order serviceable. THE WAY, THE TRUTH, AND THE LIFE THEODORE PARKER O thou great Friend to all the sons of men, Yes, thou art still the life; thou art the way And in thy name aspiring mortals trust To uplift their bleeding brothers rescued from the dust. MARY'S GIRLHOOD GABRIEL CHARLES DANTE ROSSETTI This is that blessed Mary, pre-elect God's virgin. Gone is a great while, and she Unto God's will she brought devout respect, And supreme patience. From her mother's knee Strong in grave peace; in pity circumspect. So held she through her girlhood; as it were Grows and is quiet. Till, one dawn at home DOMINE QUO VADIS? WILLIAM WATSON Darkening the azure roof of Nero's world, "These Christian dogs, 'tis they have done this thing!" The panting, huddled flock whose crime was Christ. Now Peter lodged in Rome, and rose each morn By those blind hands that with inebriate zeal Burned the strong saints, or broke them on the wheel, Or flung them to the lions to make mirth For dames that ruled the lords that ruled the earth. And unto him their towering rocky hold, Repaired those sheep of the Good Shepherd's fold Then One stood forth, the flashing of whose soul "Or, ground as wheat of His eternal field, And Peter said: "Do lords of spear and shield |