Pure soul, who in God's high-walled Paradise
Dost walk in all the whiteness of new birth,
And hear'st the angels' shrill antiphonies,
Which are to heaven what time is to the earth,
Give ear to one to whom in days of old
Thou gavest tears for sorrow, smiles for mirth,
And all the passion one poor heart could hold!

Behold, O Love! to-day how hushed and still
My heart is, and my lips and hands are calm;
When last I strove to win you to my will,
The angels drowned my pleading in a psalm;

The Christmas bagpipes I heard mid sleep,
I heard the sound of old lullabies.
The stars are out in the azure deep,
the lantern's glow in the cabins lies.

From the dark mountains they have come here,
the Christmas bagpipes, without a sound,
and have awaked, with their piping clear,
all the good people in slumber drowned.

Each one has risen from his poor bed;
under the rafter he makes a light;
those lamps are fragrant of low words said,
of cautious footsteps, of yawns at night.

The pious lamps are flashing bright beams,

Kate's kisses loud and long resound,
Sue's kisses bite until they wound,
I wonder if they sweeter taste
Than Lucy's kisses soft and chaste.
My lips alone can judges be,
Methinks I'll try them both and see.

But no, I'm wrong. I will not prove
Unfaithful to my faithful love.
None else may match with Lucy's lips
Wherefrom the bee his honey sips.
The prize is hers, my verdict given,
No need to seek a fairer heaven.

In my arms I held her tight,
Saw her eyes with laughter gleam,
Close together in the night:
Though 'twas but a dream.

All her body I caressed
Nor did she reluctant seem,
Each soft limb upon me pressed,
Yielded:—in my dream.

But as every art I tried
Plunging deep in passion's stream,
I by Cupid was denied,
Lost my lovely dream.

Ah, he is a jealous boy:
Lies in ambush, so I deem:
Will not give us perfect joy
Even in a dream.

Humbly before thy throne, good Lord!
While for ourselves we plead,
Let us, according to thy word,
For others intercede.

Hast thou not witness'd, from on high,
A sore afflicted race?
Hast thou not heard their piercing cry,
And wilt thou hide thy face?

And wilt thou turn thine ear away?
How long, O Lord! how long,
Shall weakness lie to pow'r a prey,
And right be rul'd by wrong?

Is there no mercy for the slave?
None, with the tyrant none!—
Then stretch thine own right hand to save;
Speak,—and it shall be done.

Liberty-imparting Spirit!
Breathe on Afric's fetter'd race;
That, through thee, they may inherit
This divinest gift of grace.

Thou canst break their bonds asunder,
Thou canst cast their yoke away;
Speak! and in a voice of thunder,
Which th' oppressor must obey.

Tell the man, who dares to barter
In his brother's flesh and blood,
He has broke the noble charter
Of our common brotherhood;

And for this will stand indicted
At the judgment-seat on high,
There to be by God requited
For usurp'd authority!

THE SCHOLAR'S RELAPSE .

By the side of a grove, at the foot of a hill,
Where whisper'd the beech, and where murmur'd the rill,
I vow'd to the Muses my time and my care,
Since neither could win me the smiles of my fair.

Free I ranged like the birds, like the birds free I sung,
And Delia's loved name scarce escaped from my tongue;
But if once a smooth accent delighted my ear,
I should wish, unawares, that my Delia might hear.

With fairest ideas my bosom I stored.
Allusive to none but the nymph I adored;

Why do I draw my trusty blade
As though its edge to prove?
'Tis not in sooth to hurt, dear maid,
Or vex the Queen of Love.

But rather that I may reveal
How Mars her power allows
And though he be of stubborn steel
A slave to Venus bows.

My confidant, in him I see
As in a glass my face,
He knows my thoughts and has for me
All a beloved's grace.

But thou, my sweet, art dearer yet,
No sword our love shall part,
And if thou dost thy troth forget
This blade shall pierce my heart.

Holy Father, God of Love!
Send thy Spirit from above;
Help us all thy name to sing,
God of mercy, Heav'nly King!

For the burden'd slave would we
Ask the gifts of liberty;
For the weary and oppress'd,
We would ask thy peace and rest.

In thy gracious love arise,
See his burdens, hear his cries;
Rend his fetters, set him free,
Slave no longer let him be.

Then his thankful voice shall raise
Songs to thee of grateful praise;
Grace, free grace, shall be his theme,
Thou shalt be his Lord Supreme.

Lord! deliver; thou canst save;
Save from evil, Mighty God!
Hear — oh! hear the kneeling slave,
Break — oh! break th' oppressor's rod.

May the captive's pleading fill
All the earth, and all the sky;
Ev'ry other voice be still,
While he pleads with God on high.

He, whose ear is ev'ry where,
Who doth silent sorrow see,
Will regard the captive's pray'r,
Will from bondage set him free.

From the tyranny within,
Save thy children, Lord! we pray;
Chains of iron, chains of sin,
Cast forever, cast away.