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All Antioch's faireft daughters 
 Are fain to own her queen, 
 
 With her dark eyes flaming luftre, 
 And her free and princely mien. 
 
A 
 
 SPRINGTIDE. 
 
 Not from the pearl-like daify, 
 By the Gauls called Marguerite, 
 
 Which feems on Earth's green bofom, 
 Like the print of angels' feet ; 
 
 Not thence her name was given, 
 But from Ocean's lovelieft gem, 
 
 That lends its luftrous beauty 
 To the Afiarch's diadem ; 
 
 For fondly faid Evodius, 
 
 His little babe mould be 
 A coftlier pearl than ever 
 
 Was cloifter'd in the fea, 
 
 With all the chifelled beauty 
 Of her mother's Grecian race, 
 
 And the deeper light of Syrian eyes, 
 And the queenly Allan grace. 
 4 
 
SPRINGTIDE. 
 
 r 
 
 She is his only daughter, 
 And he is rich and great, 
 
 So many a Have he giveth 
 On Margaret to wait. 
 
 No marvel if fhe bear her 
 With high imperious fway, 
 
 And frowneth if they hafle not 
 Her bidding to obey ; 
 
 And yet, for fhe is gentle, 
 And her's is beauty's fpell, 
 
 The youthful lady's handmaids 
 Have learn'd to love her well. 
 
 Full quickly from her chiding 
 To bounties doth lhe pafs, 
 
 Like an April cloud, whofe relics 
 Are the ftar-flowers in the grafs. 
 
 5 
 
SPRINGTIDE. 
 
 Yet oft, 'mid all the fplendour 
 That riches can command, 
 
 A mournful mood comes o'er her 
 That few can underftand. 
 
 " Hath an evil eye looked on her ?" 
 
 The maidens afk apart, 
 And what hath chilPd the bounding 
 
 Of that young and joyous heart ? 
 
 " Nay, but if we were like her, 
 
 Right merrily we'd live ! 
 We would not lack a pleafure 
 
 This funny world can give !" 
 
 For they know not that their miftrefs, 
 With all that gold can buy, 
 
 Hath a yearning void within her, 
 Earth ne'er might fatisfy. 
 6 
 
SPRINGTIDE. 
 
 Anon fhe wanders lonely 
 In Daphne's myrtle grove, 
 
 And the flow'rets fmile a welcome 
 Where'er her footfteps rove. 
 
 The birds are tinging blithely, 
 
 The waters laugh in light, 
 And all around her feemeth 
 
 To gladnefs to invite. 
 
 Yet as though lhe thought to revel 
 
 In wantonnefs of grief, 
 'Mid Earth's wealth of flowers lhe 
 fad dens 
 
 O'er a rofe's faded leaf. 
 
 She twines a votive garland, 
 
 And when the work is wrought, 
 
 " Why pluck the flowers to wither ?" 
 She anfwers to her thought. 
 
 7 
 
 C« 
 
D^Bssi 
 
 SPRINGTIDE. 
 
 u Already falls the fhadow 
 
 O'er their brightnefs and their bloom, 
 And a faintnefs ftealeth o'er me 
 
 From the gathered flowers' perfume !" 
 
 In Daphne's ftately temple, 
 
 Before Apollo's fhrine, 
 The Prieft's fair daughter bends her 
 
 As to fomewhat of Divine. 
 
 w 
 
 ST 
 
 But the chifell'd form is breathlefs, 
 
 And no refponfe is given 
 To the thoughts that feek an anfwer 
 
 From the far-off height of heaven. 
 
 She looketh from her lattice 
 In the marvel of the night, 
 
 And me afketh if there be not 
 Some world of joy and light. 
 8 
 
"A world where flowers are fadelefs, 
 And where lov'd ones never die ! 
 
 And art thou there, my mother ?" 
 She afketh with a figh. 
 
 For fhe thinketh of Ianthe 
 In her beauty fnatched away, 
 
 When her little one unconfcious, 
 On another's bofom lay ; 
 
 And a fad and fhrouded phantom 
 From the mother's marble tomb, 
 
 Haunts her daughter's thoughtful 
 fpringtide 
 With its myftery of gloom. 
 
 jfflgi 
 
* 
 
 i 
 
A DREAM OF EARTH. 
 
 But footh to fay, Torquatus 
 Is the nobleft of them all, 
 
 And the purple-bordered toga 
 Doth bravely round him fall. 
 
 "Long live the brave Torquatus !" 
 The people ihout around : 
 
 The very air is- vocal 
 
 With the oft-repeated found. 
 
 The faireft maids of Antioch 
 Their Daphne's treafures bring, 
 
 And many a laurel garland 
 
 O'er the youthful Prefect fling ; 
 
 But the daughter of Evodius 
 Is the lovelieft flow'ret there, 
 
 With the bloflbm'd myrtle wreathing 
 Her darkly gleaming hair. 
 
A DREAM OF EARTH 
 
 To her cheek the warm blood nifties, 
 The Prefect's glance to meet, 
 
 But his high arched brow is fluftiing 
 At the fight of Marguerite. 
 
 f< Now by the gods," he crieth, 
 ' ' Your Antioch boafts a pearl 
 
 Beyond the wealth of empires, 
 In yonder dark-hair'd girl !" 
 
 Torquatus is a warrior 
 To whom the battle-field, 
 
 With its perilous excitement, 
 Doth the joy of heroes yield : 
 
 But the prancing of the war-horfe, 
 The flafhing of the fword, 
 
 On the bold adventurer never 
 Such a joyous impulfe pour'd. 
 
 *3 
 
^M, 
 
 So from that day he feeketh 
 
 To win her for his bride, fj\?\ 
 
 The dazzling of whofe brightnefs 
 
 Hath curtain'd all betide. 
 
 And a blufliing girl hath queen'd it 
 O'er the haughty Roman's heart ; 
 
 A dove hath cowed the eagle, 
 Her foft eyes mot the dart. 
 
 The long dark lames veiPd them 
 From the felt but fhrouded gaze, 
 
 In new-born reverence ihrinking 
 From fuch beauty in amaze. 
 
 % 
 
 In love's enchanted midnight, 
 Torquatus fees his liar, 
 
 Like a glory far above him, 
 And a myftery afar. 
 

 DREAM OF EARTH. 
 
 M 
 
 At 
 
 She pafleth, but her vilion 
 With the Prefect lingers flill, 
 
 And her fairy footftep's founding 
 His inmoft heart can thrill. 
 
 He loves, and is beloved — 
 To Margaret he feems 
 
 Apollo's breathing likenefs, 
 The ideal of her dreams. 
 
 Evodius marks with gladnefs 
 The progrefs of their love ; 
 
 Invoking oft to blefs them 
 The powers that rule above. 
 
 \ J He dreams how Alia's circlet 
 
 Will befeem the queenly brow 
 Of his young and beauteous daughter, 
 So like Ianthe now ! 
 
 '5 
 
< 
 
 A DREAM OF EARTH. 
 
 t 
 
 It is the olden ftory — 
 A figh for faded flowers ! 
 
 But fummer's glory falleth 
 On frefhly blooming bowers ; 
 
 And the memory of Ianthe, 
 
 In death's filence fhrouded long, 
 
 Is a tale that erft could charm him, 
 And an old remember'd fong. 
 
 But Evodius for the living 
 His prieflly worlhip pays, 
 
 And on Apollo's altar 
 His votive oiFering lays ; 
 
 What time in Daphne wandering, 
 The youth and maiden find 
 
 Love's fweet enchanted fables 
 With all they fee entwined. 
 16 
 
A DREAM OF EARTH. 
 
 Love prompts to noble daring ; 
 
 Love rears the laurel tree, 
 And the victor finds a chaplet, 
 
 Though his Daphne feem to flee, 
 
 " Thou wilt not flee, my Margaret ;' 
 Torquatus whifpers now, 
 
 " But wilt thou bind the garland 
 To grace thy lover's brow ?" 
 
 And the maiden's only anfwer 
 
 Is a joy-illumin'd fmile, 
 Nor dreams fhe of the fhadow, 
 
 That haunted her erewhile ; 
 
 Oh, call her not forgetful ! 
 
 In thofe foftly gleaming eyes 
 The truthful truft that linketh 
 
 The paft and future, lies ; 
 
 17 
 
 ^^^^^^^@#^=c^ 
 
For the change hath pafs'd upon her 
 Of a maiden's firft fond love, 
 
 When it feems as though the graces 
 A veil for beauty wove. 
 
 By the fringed eyelids drooping, 
 By the foft cheeks' pearly blufh, 
 
 By the voice whofe liquid fweetnefs 
 Seems but deepening in its hufh. 
 
 Such change hath come upon her, 
 
 As o'er Ianthe came, 
 When Evodius learn'd to call her 
 
 By his own betroth'd one's name. 
 
 f 
 
 The workday world around her 
 A rofeate glow hath caught, 
 
 And all fweet founds are vocal 
 To her own unutter'd thought. 
 18 
 
 £*^S*^^s&' 
 
SS^BHSSS*©**^-* 
 
THE PEARL OF PRICE. 
 
 And fhe fpeaks not when they urge her 
 The lady's charms to own, 
 
 For fhe ftriveth with a forrow 
 That feareth to be known. 
 
 She is Margaret's fofter-mother, 
 And Margaret loves her well, 
 
 Though a myftery is around her 
 That baffles all to fpell. 
 
 'Tis whifper'd that Salome 
 
 In fecret bends her knee, 
 The Chriftians' God to worfhip, 
 
 Who died upon the tree. 
 
 But now the maidens fpare not 
 Her thoughtful mood to chide, 
 
 As ominous of evil, 
 
 Their miftrefs to betide. 
 
THE PEARL OF PRICE. 
 
 " Peace, ilaves !" faith Lady Margaret, 
 " Refrain your fro ward tongue, 
 
 Nor think ye in my hearing 
 My faithful nurfe to wrong ! 
 
 u But tell me now, Salome, 
 For I know thy love fincere, 
 
 What augury of fadnefs 
 Was mother to thy tear ? 
 
 " For I felt it fall upon me, 
 In the filence of thy thought, 
 
 And I marvell'd at the token, 
 And the meflage that it brought. 
 
 '* Why art thou flow to anfwer ? 
 
 Surely thou thinkeft not 
 Thy right to warn and counfel 
 
 Is by thy child forgot ! 
 
 *3 
 
"1 afk thee not for flattery ; 
 
 Thou know'ft I hold it cheap ; 
 But tell me, now, Salome, 
 
 What moveth thee to weep ?" 
 
 No anfwer from Salome 
 
 Save the burfting fob is heard, 
 As though a thought within her, 
 
 Too deep for utterance, ftirr'd. 
 
 The flaves look on in marvel, 
 Till by a fign difmifs'd, 
 
 And fondly Lady Margaret 
 Salome's brow hath kifs'd. 
 
 £*l 
 
 " Now fpeak to me, my mother, 
 For fee, we are alone" — 
 
 And in fond embrace fhe mingles 
 With her nurfe's tears her own. 
 24 
 

 THE PEARL OF PRICE. 
 
 " O pardon me, fweet Lady, 
 The thoughts that o'er me rum, 
 
 From the depth of love awaking 
 A fountain's heavenward gum ! 
 
 ' ( I need not fay with others 
 That thou art pafTmg fair ; 
 
 Thy lover's eyes have told thee — 
 Thou haft thine anfwer there. 
 
 " But even now, my lov'd one, 
 While gazing on thy face, 
 
 Ianthe feemed before me, 
 In all her youthful grace. 
 
 " A Pearl of brighter luftre 
 Than I can fkill to tell, 
 
 Was gliftening on her forehead, 
 And a glory round her fell. 
 
 *5 
 
 &*>oms& 
 
THE PEARL OF PRICE. 
 
 ** And methought fhe bade me tell thee 
 To win like glorious dower, 
 
 To feal thy radiant beauty 
 For an amaranthine flower." 
 
 " What meanefl thou, Salome ? 
 
 Lies not my mother low, 
 Where the waters of Orontes 
 
 Through the vale of Daphne flow ?" 
 
 " There like a broken lily, 
 
 Her mortal form was laid, 
 To flumber for a feafon 
 
 In filence and in fhade. 
 
 '% 
 
 " But the buried root upfendeth 
 Another flower, my child, 
 
 And a blefled fpringtide waketh 
 The fair one undenTd ! 
 26 
 
W**£g$r **"""" "iff 
 
 THE PEARL OF PRICE. 
 
 " For a Sign was figned upon her, 
 
 Whofe virtue cannot fail, 
 And that Sign upon thy forehead 
 
 Ian the yearns to hail." 
 
 The fofter-mother paufes, 
 
 For Margaret's pale bright cheek 
 And her eyes' inquiring luftre 
 
 Of the fpirit's fervour fpeak — 
 
 " But Ianthe ! But my mother ! 
 
 O tell me, nurfe, of her, 
 For a ftrange new hope within me, 
 
 Doth at thy tidings flir ! 
 
 " By the Sign of which thou fpeakeft, 
 
 Salome, doft thou mean 
 The fad and fhameful token 
 
 That marks the Nazarene ?" 
 
 27 
 
 IF 
 
THE PEARL OF PRICE. 
 
 " Yea ! 'Twas His Crofs that fign'd her, 
 
 That token of His love, 
 Who ftoop'd, His glory veiling, 
 
 Our low eflate to prove. 
 
 " In manhood's might He came not — 
 No earthly fplendour crown'd, 
 
 But lowly in a manger, 
 
 A wondrous Babe was found. 
 
 " A Virgin-Mother bare Him, 
 
 As holy feers foretold, 
 And angels bade the fhepherds 
 
 In Him their Lord behold. 
 
 " In poverty abiding, 
 
 To man's eflate He grew, 
 
 And deeds of bleffing mark'd Him 
 The Holy and the True ! 
 a8 
 
THE PEARL OF PRICE. 
 
 " In fhame for our falvation 
 He bow'd His head to die, 
 
 Ere He rofe again to teach us 
 A glorious path on high. 
 
 " He comes again, my daughter, 
 To judge th' aiTembled world, 
 
 The banner'd Crofs His enfign, 
 In light of all unfurFd. 
 
 " Such was the faith Ianthe 
 Learned from the lowly Have, 
 
 Whom to his wife, Evodius 
 A wedding prefent gave. 
 
 u I Hood befide thy mother, 
 
 When on her bright young head, 
 
 By the moonlit ftream in Daphne, 
 The cleanfing drops were fhed. 
 
 29 
 
 n 
 
% 
 
 THE PEARL OF PRICE. 
 
 " Fair as the queenly lily, 
 She wore the robe of white, 
 
 And I tell thee on her forehead 
 Shone a gem of living light. 
 
 " No worldly wealth might buy it, 
 
 Albeit it gliftens now 
 On many a lowborn matron's, 
 
 On many a flave girl's brow ! 
 
 " Ianthe made me promife, 
 Or e'er on fleep fhe fell, 
 
 To teach her child to feek her 
 By the Chriflian's myftic well. 
 
 m 
 
M He bade thy nurfe remember 
 That no Prieft of hated name 
 
 Should ever crofs his threfhold 
 To wed his child to fhame ; 
 
 * ' But few perchance the moments 
 I yet may fpend with thee, 
 
 And thy mother's charge hath relied 
 With a folemn weight on me." 
 
 « What fayeft thou, Salome ?" 
 And pale with namelefs fears, 
 
 The maiden gazeth on her 
 
 Through the thickly gathering tears. 
 
 " Sweet Lady, fore it pains me, 
 
 At fuch an hour as this, 
 To dam away untafted 
 
 Thy cup of earthly blifs. 
 
 3' 
 
 ^^0**^^ 
 
THE PEARL OF PRICE. 
 
 " I know Torquatus loves thee, 
 
 I know his lenient mood, 
 But another brings the edict 
 
 Which may not be withftood. 
 
 " To worfe than fhame, my daughter, 
 
 To agony and death, 
 The Emperor dooms the Chriftians 
 
 If rightly rumour faith. 
 
 " Yet by Ianthe's meffage, 
 
 By a mother's pureft love, 
 By the foftly brooding fhadow 
 
 Of the Chriftian's Holy Dove, 
 
 " By Him, Who to redeem us 
 Endured fuch bitter woe, 
 
 For the Pearl of which I tell thee, 
 I bid thee all forego ! 
 
<~ 
 
 THE BAPTISM. 
 
 The aged Prieft is ready — 
 
 The water gufheth nigh, 
 And Margaret is baptized 
 
 'Neath the moonlit eaftern fky. 
 
 As once he blefs'd Ianthe, 
 He blefleth now her child, 
 
 And bids her keep her garments 
 For the Bridal undehTd. 
 
 " Peace be with thee, my daughter ; 
 
 Be ftrong, and fear thou not, 
 Although thy Lord mould call thee 
 
 To Ihare His martyrs' lot." 
 
 The holy rite is ended — 
 
 The gifts me fought are won ; 
 
 The wondrous life eternal 
 Within her is' begun ; 
 36 
 
THE BAPTISM. 
 
 And ftill the maiden kneeleth 
 
 Her mother's tomb belide, 
 In the marvel of the gladnefs 
 
 Of a heaven-accepted Bride. 
 
 Rapt in Divine communion, 
 With Christ and Saints at reft, 
 
 She gazeth heavenward, folding 
 Her palms upon her breaft. 
 
 The adoring joy within her, 
 Hath taught her lips a fong, 
 
 And ihe feemeth one already 
 
 Of the white-rob'd heavenly throng. 
 
 The dreams of earth have vanifh'd, 
 The coft is counted now, 
 
 And the Sign of our falvation 
 Gleams on the uprais'd brow. 
 
 37 
 
THE BAPTISM. 
 
 A change hath pafs'd upon her, 
 
 But not as heretofore ; 
 An unfeen world around her, 
 
 Its glory feems to pour. 
 
 The peace that pafleth knowledge, 
 Is mantling with calm might ; 
 
 She hath pafled out of darknefs 
 Into everlafting light. 
 
 Salome bendeth o'er her 
 
 With a more than mother's blifs, 
 When firft the boon is granted 
 
 Her babe's foft lips to kifs. 
 
 By a Chriftian fponfor's travail 
 
 In failing and in prayer, 
 For ever fhall Salome 
 
 In Ianthe's gladnefs fhare. 
 38 
 
THE BAPTISM. 
 
 She hath led her cherifh'd nurfling 
 To the fount of fecond birth, 
 
 And a life Divine is granted 
 
 To the Chriften'd child of earth. 
 
 But Salome ftarts, for footfteps 
 Are founding in the glade, 
 
 " Flee, flee, my child !" fhe whifpers, 
 " For our meeting is betray'd." 
 
 It is too late — the moonlight 
 Reveals an armed band ; — 
 
 On the kneeling maiden refteth 
 A mailed foldier's hand. 
 
 " Whom have we here ?" he crieth, 
 " By Jove, a queenly fair !" 
 
 " Tia the daughter of Evodius," 
 Saith his comrade, u fo beware ! 
 
 39 
 
THE BAPTISM. 
 
 " Methinks our noble Prefect 
 Will not thank us for our deed, 
 
 And the capture of his chofen 
 May win a forry meed." 
 
 "Ha, there ! what is *t ye talk of? 
 
 Let not the women go !" 
 Exclaims their captain, Aper, 
 
 The Prefect's wily foe : 
 
 For ruthlefs is his nature, 
 
 And covetous of pelf, 
 And fecretly he feeketh 
 
 The prefecture himfelf. 
 
 His own advancement fhaping, 
 He blames the gentler mood 
 
 Which makes Torquatus tardy 
 To fhed the Chriftians , blood ; 
 40 
 
" But late he brought from Caefar 
 
 A notice to proceed, 
 Left his Prefect ieem a favourer 
 
 Of the new and impious creed. 1 
 
 So inly he exulteth, 
 
 That Torquatus mull decide 
 'Twixt the favour of the Emperor, 
 
 And his own betrothed bride. 
 
 He bids them bind the Chriftians, 
 
 And to the prifon bear, 
 Nor heeds for Lady Margaret, 
 
 Her fofter-mother's prayer. 
 
 Upon the morrow fummon'd, 
 At the Prefect's bar to Hand, 
 
 They lead them forth in fetters, 
 A fmall, devoted band. 
 

 THE BAPTISM. 
 
 " And who is yonder captive," 
 
 Aiks Torquatus, (( rob'd in white ?" 
 
 Struck with the queenly bearing 
 Of the lovely neophyte. 
 
 Strange change for timid maiden ! 
 
 No dim mifgiving lies 
 In the calm repofing brightnefs 
 
 Of thofe cloudlefs heaven-lit eyes. 
 
 Her Hep is firm and itately, 
 No crimfon dies her cheek, 
 
 Though me wears the virgin beauty 
 Of a maiden pure and meek. 
 
 She Hands before Torquatus — 
 He flarteth from his throne — 
 
 " Thou, Margaret ! Thou a captive, 
 My beautiful ! mine own ! 
 42 
 
 * 
 
THE BAPTISM. 
 
 " Thou knew'ft not of the meeting 
 
 In Daphne yeflernight ! 
 Thou couldft not mean to join them 
 
 In their dark accurfed rite ! , 
 
 CI 
 
 i 
 
 " Nay, tell me 'twas an error, 
 And in the myrtle made, 
 
 Thou didft but think to wander 
 By moonlight with thy maid ! 
 
 
 " What mean ye, guards, to charge her 
 With a Chriftian's hated name ? 
 
 Loofe ye the chains from off her, 
 Ye mall abye the blame !" 
 
 u Forbear ! Forbear, O Prefecl, 
 And hear mine anfwer firft, 
 
 Then let thy foldiers loofe me, 
 Or let them do their worft ! 
 
THE BAPTISM. 
 
 " That Holy Name, thou hateft, 
 
 To me is dearer far 
 Than life itfelf, and therefore 
 
 I ftand before thy bar. 
 
 " But yefternight was given 
 The right to call it mine, 
 
 And not for all earth offers, 
 Would I that right refign. 
 
 " I am a Chriftian ! Hear me ! 
 
 Signed with my Saviour's Crofs, 
 I count as erft I counted, 
 
 All other gain but lofs, 
 
 U Even thy love, Torquatus, 
 
 And earth had nought more dear"- 
 And the fetter'd hand is lifted 
 To dafh away a tear. 
 44 
 
THE BAPTISM. 
 
 But now Evodius cometh ; 
 
 With a father's anguifh wild, 
 He calls upon Torquatus 
 
 To give him back his child. 
 
 "Reftore, reftore my daughter, 
 My blamelefs child !" he cries, 
 
 « She is no Chriftian, Prefect, 
 But a fpell upon her lies ! 
 
 " A curfe on thee, Salome ! 
 
 A father's curfe on thee, 
 For thou haft wrought this evil 
 
 To tear my child from me !" 
 
 Hark, in his ears there ringeth 
 A daughter's bitter cry, 
 
 " My father ! O my father ! 
 Make it not hard to die !" 
 
 45 
 
" Die ? Die ? What means my darling ? 
 
 By the ftrength of this right arm 
 The mifcreant mail perifh 
 
 Who toucheth thee for harm ! 
 
 " Off, guards ! off at your peril !" 
 And through their midft he fprings, 
 
 And her fetter'd arms the maiden 1 
 
 Around Evodius flings. k 
 
 " Now by Ianthe's memory, 
 
 My father, curfe us not !" 
 She hath fainted on his bofom — 
 
 He weeps — fhe knows it not — 
 
 They bear her to the dungeon, 
 
 Salome to the rack, 
 But the ftrength to both is granted 
 
 To keep the bloodftain'd track. 
 
t 
 
 V, 
 
 THE CAPTIVE. 
 
 Befought, commanded, threatened, 
 With filial forrow wrung — 
 
 The words, "lama Chriflian," 
 Are the later! on her tongue. 
 
 One while her father waters 
 With tears his daughter's feet, 
 
 Befeeching her to fpare him 
 His child, his Marguerite ! 
 
 Anon he flings her from him 
 
 In the frenzy of defpair, 
 And the doom that me hath courted, 
 
 He fternly bids her bear. 
 
 He hath left her, and me murmurs, 
 " Death's bitternefs is pail !" 
 
 While in the dungeon's darknefs 
 Her tears are raining fall. 
 48 
 
THE CAPTIVE. 
 
 But a ray of lamp-light gleameth 
 Through the opening of the door, 
 
 And another comes — Torquatus ! 
 To tempt her yet once more : 
 
 He fets before the maiden 
 
 The infamy and fcorn, 
 The death of lingering torture, 
 
 Unpitied to be borne ; 
 
 Then fondly he contrafteth 
 The blifs of earthly love, 
 
 And all his fancy painteth, 
 Her gentle heart to move ; 
 
 And lhe who erft undaunted 
 Of fhame and torture heard, 
 
 In the truth of woman's nature, 
 Thrills to a kindly word. 
 e 49 
 
 *&%zmM^ 
 
THE CAPTIVE. 
 
 " Torquatus, I have lov'd thee 
 With a maiden's truftful heart, 
 
 And fuch alone can meafure 
 The agony to part. 
 
 " Yea, e'en the martyr's triumph 
 Were dearer fhared with thee ; 
 
 And, one, if prayer may win it, 
 Our portion yet may be ! 
 
 IX) 
 
 " But now I may not trufl thee 
 My heavenward fteps to guide, 
 
 Or mine inmoft heart were bounding 
 To be thy Chriflian bride."— 
 
 " Then be my bride," he anfwers, 
 
 " And lightly I refign 
 The prefecture, my Margaret, 
 
 To link my fate with thine ! 
 50 
 
" I afk thee but to-morrow, 
 
 For fome grains of incenfe flung 
 
 On the altar of Apollo, 
 
 To ftill the flanderous tongue ; 
 
 " And with thee and thy father, 
 I feek fome far-off land, 
 
 Where henceforth as fhe lifteth, 
 My Margaret fhall command. 
 
 " I will not chide thee, darling, 
 For thy Chriflian fancies there : 
 
 To a dead man, if it pleafe thee, 
 Thou fhalt make thy harmlefs 
 prayer. " 
 
 " Not to the dead, Torquatus ! 
 
 To One Who died, but lives, 
 And in long fufFering mercy 
 
 Thine ignorance forgives ! 
 
^-JW? 
 
 THE CAPTIVE. 
 
 " To One Whofe love is dearer 
 Than aught of earth can be, 
 
 I cleave through ihame and fuffering, 
 And bow the willing knee ! 
 
 " Nay, tempt me not, nor flay me, 
 With a blood-ftain'd hand abhorred, 
 
 A flain whence nought can cleanfe thee, 
 Save the mercy of my Lord ! 
 
 " Nor dream that on the morrow, 
 
 A traitor to the faith ! 
 Thine idol gods I wbrfhip !" 
 
 With kindling eye me faith. 
 
 " Ha ! thou art daring, maiden, 
 
 Mine anger thus to brave ; 
 Nor boots it further parley 
 A frantic fool to fave. — 
 5* 
 
" And yet bethink thee, Margaret ! 
 
 To worfe than death my will 
 May doom a maiden fpurning 
 
 Counfel and threatening ftill." — 
 
 " I fear thee not, Torquatus, 
 Nor aught that flefh can do ! 
 
 Ye cannot harm Christ's virgin, 
 Let but her heart be true ! 
 
 " Leave me ! — thou haft mine anfwer, 
 
 And when again we meet, 
 Thy captive will not tremble 
 
 Before thy judgment- feat. — 
 
 "Yet when thy word hath doom'd her 
 
 To agony and fhame, 
 In prayer to One thou know'ft not, 
 
 Her lips mall breathe thy name !" 
 
THE CAPTIVE. 
 
 In darknefs and in filence 
 
 The captive feems alone, 
 Yet a fpeechlefs joy fuftains her, 
 
 In earth's brighteft hour unknown. 
 
 Upon the floor fhe flumbers, 
 With heavenly vifions bleft, 
 
 But vainly ftrives Torquatus 
 To calm himfelf for reft. 
 
 Helplefs in frenzy tolling 
 
 At morn upon his bed, 
 He calls aloud for water 
 
 To lave his burning head. 
 
 Salome's death, he crieth, 
 Lies heavy at his heart, — 
 
 Anon he raves of Margaret, 
 With fudden fhivering ftart. 
 
 54 
 
I FLOOD of funlight ftreameth 
 In Daphne on a tomb, 
 And in Antioch on a Bridal — 
 'Tis the Chriftians' day of doom ! 
 
 Yet ne'er for eaftern nuptials,] 
 In the faffron tunic dreft, 
 
 Was a fpoufe to match the fair one 
 In her white, baptifmal veft ! 
 
 57 
 
r 
 
 MARTYRDOM. 
 
 The iron fetters on her, 
 
 Might a bride's adorning feem, 
 While the funlight robes her beauty, 
 
 Like the glory of a dream. 
 
 " Thanks unto God," fhe murmurs, 
 
 " Torquatus is not here, 
 And it fpares a pang, my fentence 
 
 From other lips to hear." 
 
 Sternly hath Aper queftioned, 
 
 And iteadfaft her reply, 
 " In the Name of Christ I glory, 
 
 Nor will my Lord deny !" 
 
 She hath brav'd the torture, fmiling 
 When a warm and crimfon flood 
 
 Dyes the fnowy limbs, fo lately 
 Warned in the atoning Blood ! 
 58 
 
MARTYRDOM. 
 
 Yet a pang her bofom rendeth 
 When her chidden lire is beat, 
 
 To ftill his frantic wailing, 
 As he clafps her judge's feet. 
 
 To the wild beafts in the circus 
 
 With the aged prieft anon, 
 Relentlefs Aper dooms her, 
 
 Or e'er her crown be won. 
 
 They have loos'd a lion on her 
 
 As with outftretch'd arms in prayer, 
 
 She lifteth up to heaven 
 A face unearthly fair ; 
 
 I! 
 
 3 
 
 And the monfter croucheth by her, 
 At that angel brow difmayed, 
 
 And her flruggling fire exclaimeth, 
 t€ Now Christ hath been thine aid !" 
 
 59 
 
 m 
 

 m 
 
 MARTYRDOM. 
 
 He hath burfl from thofe who held him — 
 He hath leap'd the wall below — 
 
 He flrains her to his bofom, 
 Nor fears the briflling foe ! 
 
 " Thy God be mine, my daughter ! 
 
 Thy Saviour I adore, 
 And may His mercy link me 
 
 With thee for evermore !" 
 
 She hath wreath'd her arms around him, 
 And her thick and fhadowy hair 
 
 Veils her brightnefs, as fhe breatheth 
 A heaven-accepted prayer : — 
 
 " Now letter! Thou Thy fervants 
 Depart in peace, O Lord, 
 
 For our eyes have feen falvation, 
 According to Thy word." 
 60 
 
MARTYRDOM. 
 
 The lion's paw hath fell'd them 
 
 Together to the ground, 
 And the mortal coil is fever'd, 
 
 That to earth their fpirits bound. 
 
 For the cries of fcorn and hatred, 
 For the darkly fcowling throng, 
 
 There are glorious forms around them, 
 And the Hallelujah fong. 
 
 But the deed affign'd, accomplilh'd, 
 
 The lion watcheth now 
 O'er the twain fo calmly fleeping, 
 
 Heaven's lignet on their brow : 
 
 And woe to thofe who venture 
 With a rude and heathen hand, 
 
 To touch them, or to fever 
 The death-cemented band ! 
 
 61 
 
Yet the aged Prieft bends fcathelefs, 
 With reverent touch to clofe 
 
 Eyes that have wept their lateft, 
 For a ftill and fweet repofe. 
 
 " Enough of blood, O Aper," 
 The people cry, " to-day ! 
 
 Thou would ft not rage more fiercely 
 Than yonder beaft of prey !" 
 
 
 On the funeral bier together, 
 The lire and child are laid, 
 
 And in Daphne, nigh Ian the, 
 Their lowly couch is made. 
 
 A heavy laden finner 
 
 Steals in the moonlight there, 
 And a voice of bitter weeping 
 
 Is founding in the air. 
 62 
 
MARTYRDOM. 
 
 But the chaflened heart is training 
 
 To own the Crucified, 
 And the aged Prieft is ready 
 
 To the Crofs of hope to guide. 
 
 Once more in Daphne's valley, 
 
 Orontes' moonlit wave 
 Supplies the myftic fountain 
 
 A Chriftian's brow to lave. 
 
 And Torquatus kneels in calmnefs 
 
 Upon the grafTy fod, 
 And afks for ftrength to follow 
 
 His lov'd one unto God ! 
 
 It will eafily be perceived that I have by no 
 means followed very clofely the fcanty legend 
 of S. Margaret, who is faid to have ended her 
 martyrdom by the fword. Such a tale, however, as 
 I have fought to verfify, is to be found in the annals 
 of many a virgin martyr, whofe bright example 
 may well reprove the flownefs of our faith, the 
 
 6 3 
 
 lk^^^ s ^bf^S>»a^»^&^^= S! ^ f ^ 
 
dreaminefs of our hope, and thccoldnefs of our love. 
 And yet the Martyrs wait for their reward, and 
 yet the word unto them is " that they mould reft 
 yet for a little feafon, until their fellow fervants alfo 
 and their brethren, that mould be killed as they 
 were, mould be fulfilled. " And is there not a 
 ftartling fignificance in the newly awakened and 
 increafing intereft in all that relates to Apoftles, 
 Saints, and Martyrs, to which the many publica- 
 tions on the fubjecl: bear abundant teftimony ? 
 
 Does it not remind one of a time at the clofe of 
 the Jewifh difpenfation, when men betook them- 
 felves to build and beautify the fepulchres of the 
 Prophets, honouring as dead thofe whom as living, 
 they could not abide ? And does not that word of 
 warning unto them, concern us alfo, " Therefore 
 alfo faid the Wifdom of God, I will fend them Pro- 
 phets and Apoftles, and fome of them they mall 
 flay and perfecute." (S. Luke xi. 47 — 51.) 
 
 Let us not forget that it is one thing to cherifh the 
 legends of the paft, and to dwell upon "an olden 
 tale," and it is another to welcome the ftern reality 
 when it comes home to us, not as pourtrayed by the 
 painter's or the poet's fancy, but as the voice of 
 the Crofs Bearer faying unto each, "Follow Me." 
 
 Greenwich) 
 
 The Feaft of the Circumcifion, 1850. 
 
 JOSJSPH MASTERS, PEINTEE, ALDKRSU ATK STREET, LONDON. 
 
1 I -* • y ' J 
 
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