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Thine too is the cause! and not more thine
Than ours, is the work of these dogs and swine,
Whose life laughs through and spits at their creed,
Who maintain thee in word, and defy thee in deed!

XVIII.

"We withstood Christ then?

Be mindful how

At least we withstand Barabbas now!

Was our outrage sore? But the worst we spared,
To have called these-Christians, had we dared!
Let defiance to them pay mistrust of thee,
And Rome make amends for Calvary!

XIX.

"By the torture, prolonged from age to age,
By the infamy, Israel's heritage,

By the Ghetto's plague, by the garb's disgrace,
By the badge of shame, by the felon's place,
By the branding tool, the bloody whip,
And the summons to Christian fellowship,―

XX. "

"We boast our proof that at least the Jew
Would wrest Christ's name from the Devil's crew.
Thy face took never so deep a shade

But we fought them in it, God our aid!

A trophy to bear, as we march, thy band

South, East, and on to the Pleasant Land!"

[The late Pope abolished this bad business of the
sermon.-R. B.]

AMPHIBIAN.

I.

THE fancy I had to-day,

Fancy which turned a fear!

I swam far out in the bay,

Since waves laughed warm and clear.

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Such a strange butterfly!
Creature as dear as new:

IV.

Because the membraned wings
So wonderful, so wide,
So sun-suffused, were things
Like soul and naught beside.

V.

A handbreadth over head!
All of the sea my own,
It owned the sky instead ;
Both of us were alone.
VI.

I never shall join its flight,

For naught buoys flesh in air.
If it touch the sea-good-night!
Death sure and swift waits there.

VII.

Can the insect feel the better

For watching the uncouth play Of limbs that slip the fetter, Pretend as they were not clay ?

VIII.

Undoubtedly I rejoice

That the air comports so well

With a creature which had the choice

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Thus watch one who, in the world,
Both lives and likes life's way,

Nor wishes the wings unfurled

That sleep in the worm, they say?

XI.

But sometimes when the weather

Is blue, and warm waves tempt

To free one's self of tether,

And try a life exempt

XII.

From worldly noise and dust,
In the sphere which overbrims
With passion and thought,—why, just
Unable to fly, one swims!

XIII.

By passion and thought upborne,
One smiles to one's self-" They fare
Scarce better, they need not scorn
Our sea, who live in the air!"

XIV.

Emancipate through passion
And thought, with sea for sky
We substitute, in a fashion,
For heaven-poetry :

XV.

Which sea, to all intent,
Gives flesh such noon-disport
As a finer element

Affords the spirit-sort.

XVI.

Whatever they are, we seem :
Imagine the thing they know;
All deeds they do, we dream;
Can heaven be else but so?

XVII.

And meantime, yonder streak
Meets the horizon's verge;
That is the land, to seek

If we tire or dread the surge;

XVIII.

Land the solid and safe

To welcome again (confess!) When, high and dry, we chafe The body, and don the dress.

XIX.

Does she look, pity, wonder
At one who mimics flight,
Swims-heaven above, sea under,
Yet always earth in sight?

ST. MARTIN'S SUMMER.

I.

No protesting, dearest!

Hardly kisses even!

Don't we both know how it ends? How the greenest leaf turns searest? Bluest outbreak-blankest heaven?

Lovers-friends?

II.

You would build a mansion,

I would weave a bower

-Want the heart for enterprise.

Walls admit of no expansion :
Trellis-work may haply flower
Twice the size.

III.

What makes glad Life's Winter?
New buds, old blooms after.

Sad the sighing "How suspect
Beams would ere mid-autumn splinter,
Rooftree scarce support a rafter,
Walls lie wrecked?

IV.

You are young, my princess!
I am hardly older:

Yet I steal a glance behind!
Dare I tell you what convinces
Timid me that you, if bolder,
Bold-are blind?

V.

Where we plan our dwelling

Glooms a graveyard surely!

Headstone, footstone moss may drape,—

Name, date, violets hide from spelling,-
But, though corpses rot obscurely,

Ghosts escape.

VI.

Ghosts! O breathing Beauty,

Give my frank word pardon!

What if I somehow, somewhere

Pledged my soul to endless duty

Many a time and oft? Be hard on

Love-laid there?

VII.

Nay, blame grief that's fickle,

Time that proves a traitor,

Chance, change, all that purpose warps,— Death who spares to thrust the sickle,

Which laid Love low, through flowers which later Shroud the corpse!

VIII.

And you, my winsome lady,
Whisper me with like frankness!

Lies nothing buried long ago?

Are yon-which shimmer mid what's shady
Where moss and violet run to rankness-
Tombs, or no?

IX.

Who taxes you with murder?

My hands are clean-or nearly!

Love being mortal needs must pass. Repentance? Nothing were absurder. Enough we felt Love's loss severely; Though now-alas !

X.

Love's corpse lies quiet therefore,
Only Love's ghost plays truant,

And warns us have in wholesome awe
Durable mansionry; that's wherefore
I weave but trellis-work, pursuant
-Life, to law.

XI.

The solid, not the fragile,

Tempts rain and hail and thunder,

If bower stand firm at autumn's close, Beyond my hope,-why, boughs were agile; If bower fall flat, we scarce need wonder Wreathing-rose!

XII.

So, truce to the protesting,

So, muffled be the kisses!

For, would we but avow the truth,

Sober is genuine joy.

No jesting!

Ask else Penelope, Ulysses-
Old in youth!

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