When the great Judge, supreme and just,
Shall once inquire for blood,
The humble souls, who mourn in dust,
Shall find a faithful God.

He, from the dreadful gates of death,
Doth his own children raise;
In Zion's gates with cheerful breath,
They sing their Father's praise.

His foes shall fall with heedless feet
Into the pit they made;
And sinners perish in the net,
That their own hands have spread.

Thus by thy judgments, mighty God!
Are thy deep counsels known;
When men of mischief are destroy'd,

In the hour of twilight shadows
The Pilgrim sire looked out;
He thought of the " bloudy Salvages "
That lurked all round about,
Of Wituwamet's pictured knife
And Pecksuot's whooping shout;
For the baby's limbs were feeble,
Though his father's arms were stout.

His home was a freezing cabin,
Too bare for the hungry rat;
Its roof was thatched with ragged grass,
And bald enough of that;
The hole that served for casement
Was glazed with an ancient hat,
And the ice was gently thawing
From the log whereon he sat.

Where art thou hidden, only one of mine,
And my desire abiding?
Come, shew thyself and haste to come away
Into my place of hiding.

While yet I may be freed, come thou, redeem me,
Over my fate be queen;
Give back one day of youth which has been stolen
And slay whilst my spring is green.

Thy lips may quench my flame, between thy breasts
I shall usher out my day,
As birds of vineyards, in the evening, pass
Mid flowers of spice away.

Thy name is trembling on my lips, and still
I know not who thou art;

At night I watched beneath thy room,
I saw thee, desolate and still,
With eyes confused gaze through the casement,
Seeking thy soul, thine errant will.

Seeking thy love to come again
As in youth, thou didst not see my love,
My soul that strayed in through the casement,
That fluttered like a trembling dove.

Would you know how Love first came
And through an apple shot its aim?
For 'tis agreed one never knows
Where and where the spirit blows;
Now I'll answer to my name
And tell you how my love first came,
The fault of an old apple tree.

My uncle had a garden fair
A daughter too of beauty rare;
And in the garden was a spring.
Flowing softly, slow and clear
As stolen waters, hidden wines
In this paradise which shines, —
A daughter too of beauty rare.

There hidden nooks for quiet ease
Bowered with fruit and stately trees

MARTIAL .

O Fortune! if my prayer of old
Was ne'er solicitous for gold,
With better grace thou may'st allow
My suppliant wish, that asks it now:
Yet think not, Goddess! I require it
For the same end your clowns desire it.
In a well made effectual string
Fain would I see Lovidio swing;
Hear him, from Tyburn's height haranguing;
But such a cur's not worth one's hanging.
Give me, O Goddess! store of pelf,
And he will tie the knot himself.

Silent and alone she came
In the gloaming and the shade,
As the day shed forth its last
Gold talents, of the sunset made.

Her arms were folded on her breast,
Bright beams of light played on her face,
Fell to her feet; two glorious shafts
Illumined then her eyes with grace.

And as she stood all motionless
Two glowing embers dipped in flame
Were struck as lightning from the forge.
What have these eyes from me to claim?


Two basilisks, black as the night,
Have cleft through air their venomed way,

A golden arrow shot to earth
 With tidings from the sky;
Clear flashed the import of its gleam
 “Behold, Spring draweth nigh.”
A new light fills the universe,
 A swift wind rushes by,
Bearing this message far and wide
 “New life is drawing nigh.”
The pools have heard and leap for joy
 And dance with silver glee,
“Awake, awake to greet new life”
 They cry exultantly.
God opens a window in the sky:
 “My little cherubs, go,
Spread through the world and from your wings
 Let life and fragrance flow.”

I.

Love with all thy strength of being, while the summer days are long,
While thy heart can mix its music with the lark's and thrush's song;
While the heart of woman seeks thee for the sake of love alone,
While thine ardour wins her sweetness, lures her from her starry throne.

II.

Love with all thy might of manhood, while the summer nights are sweet,
While the honeysuckle listens for the sound of lovers' feet;
While thy voice can ring with passion, while keen rapture can be won,

Through sleet and snow
The wild wheels go:
Across waste wolds with purple heather bright,
O'er many a bridge,
Through tunnelled ridge,
Flinging weird fires along the startled night,
The engine flies,—
And one man's steady eyes
And hands must guide the thundering force aright.

What trust we place
In that one face.
In those stern lips and dauntless hands that steer:
Bridegroom and bride
Sit side by side,
And trust their lives to him without a fear,