To Bethlehem-Judah, where my fathers sleep;
And with me Mary my espoused wife,

Being great with child. And so it came to pass

That as we drew anigh to Bethlehem

She said, “I am troubled: therefore haste and fetch Some woman ;" and I took her from the ass

And laid her in a cave beside the way,

And hastened me.

And suddenly I, Joseph,

Was walking and not walking, and I looked
Upon the heavens and saw the heavens amazed;
The setting sun set not, the rising moon

Rose not, and all the flying things of air

Flew not, but rested hovering. Then I looked
Upon the earth and saw a company

Of labourers sitting round their evening meal,
And lo, they eating ate not, and the hands
That gathered from the dish were stayed therein,
But all their eyes gazed upward. And thereby
A shepherd drove his sheep into the pen,

And the sheep moved not, and the shepherd's staff
Was raised to smite them, and the staff remained.
And hard beside me was a little brook,

And the brook ran not; and a flock of kids

Were come to drink, and drank not, but their mouths

Were resting on the stream. And all the face

Of all the world was still.

But at the last

The world moved on, and straightway I beheld
A woman coming from the hill-country
Wearing a midwife's badge, and spake with her,
And brought her back with me.
Behold we found this Jesus born.

But when we came

The rest

I write not, Mary knows it, and can tell

When this child Jesus stands revealed a prophet
As one of Israel's prophets,* yea, maybe
Elijah's self, or even-but my brain

Grows dull with many years, I dare not trust

The thing I think. Only I clearly know

That I have seen and herein testified,

I, Joseph, son of Heli, of the tribe
Of Judah, carpenter, of Nazareth
In Galilee, as my seal witnesseth.

1870-7.

a prophet as one of the prophets" is

* In Mark vi. 15 66 recognized to be the true reading.

FLORES GETHSEMANE.

(ON THE SUPPOSED

*

BLOOD-STAINS IN THE ROMAN CATACOMBS.)

I THOUGHT to find no bud of humblest bloom
Here in the barren places of the tomb;

Not even earth's lowliest weed I looked to see
Here where the world is dark continually;
And lo, mid fadeless flowers no sun's warm ray
Nor soft fresh shower hath drawn to life, I stray,
And wander marveling amid blossoms bright,
That lie all open through the long, long night.

Each little purple drop of martyred blood,
I hold it fairer than the new rose-bud;

* It is, however, now satisfactorily established that they are merely the stains of Eucharistic wine. See the article "Catacombs" in Smith and Cheetham's Dictionary of Christian Antiquities.

For these are blossoms sprung of Christ's own root, And these are blooms that have in heaven their fruit ; These are the flowers most sweet for God to see,

Sweeter than any earthly flowers that be;

These are the flowers most sweet for God to see,
Flowers of the Garden of Gethsemane.

1868.

MORITURA.

I.

Moritura. O WIND on whom the gracious South Hath shed the fragrance of her mouth,

Notus.

What pleasure dost thou bear for me?

To-night my fever-burdened heat

Shall stop for aye thy pulses' beat:

Such pleasure do I bear for thee.

Moritura. South wind, thy sorrow were more glad Whose pleasure is so passing sad.

II.

Moritura. O sturdy wind that sweepest forth
From icy portals of the North,

What succour wilt thou give to me?