Death's protocol with every stroke: And now . . . the drop there scarcely can Impair the keenness of the steel. "So man and sword may have their use; And if the soil beneath my foot In valour's act is forfeited, I'll strike the harder, take my dues "My King, King Victor, I am thine! (To make our Italy) must cleave. Forgive that." Forward with a sign He went. You've seen the telegram? Palermo's taken, we believe. CHRISTMAS GIFTS. ὡς βασιλει, ὡς θεῷ, ὡς νεκρῳ. GREGORY NAZIANZEN. THE Pope on Christmas Day And who will show us where Is the stable where Christ was born?” The star is lost in the dark; The manger is lost in the straw, The Christ cries faintly . . . hark! Through bands that swaddle and strangle— But the Pope in the chair of awe Looks down the great quadrangle. The magi kneel at his foot, Kings of the east and west, But, instead of the angels, (mute Is the "Peace on earth" of their song), The peoples, perplexed and opprest, Are sighing, "How long, how long?" And, instead of the kine, bewilder in The bear who tore up the children, Cardinals left and right of him, He sits in the place of the Lord, And asks for the gifts of the time; Gold, for the haft of a sword, To win back Romagna averse, Incense, to sweeten a crime, And myrrh, to embitter a curse. Then a king of the west said, "Good !— Green, for the martyr's crown, White, for the dew and the rime, When the morning of God comes down." -O mystic tricolor bright! The Pope's heart quailed like a man's: The cardinals froze at the sight, Bowing their tonsures hoary: But the peoples exclaimed in hope, To show us where Christ was born! ITALY AND THE WORLD. FLORENCE, Bologna, Parma, Modena- Το And meantime, (you made your reflection If you were English), was nought to be done But sorting sables, in predilection For all those martyrs dead and gone, And if your politics were not heady, Violent,-"Good," you added, "good 'The date of the resurrection passes "Cocks crow at midnight, seldom knowing Starlight from dawn-light! 't is a mad Poor creature." Here you paused, and growing Scornful,—suddenly, let us add, The trumpet sounded, the graves were open. Life and life and life! agrope in The dusk of death, warm hands, stretched out For swords, proved more life still to hope in, Beyond and behind. Arise with a shout, Nation of Italy, slain and buried ! Hill to hill and turret to turret Flashing the tricolor,--newly created Beautiful Italy, calm, unhurried, Rise heroic and renovated, Rise to the final restitution. Rise; prefigure the grand solution Of earth's municipal, insular schisms,— Statesmen draping self-love's conclusion In cheap, vernacular patriotisms, Unable to give up Judæa for Jesus. Bring us the higher example; release us Into the larger coming time: And into Christ's broad garment piece us No more Jew nor Greek then,—taunting Nor taunted;-no more England nor France ! But one confederate brotherhood planting One flag only, to mark the advance, For fully developed Christianity "Count the ships," in national vanity, "Measure the frontier," shall it be said? -Count the nation's heart-beats sooner. For, though behind by a cannon or schooner, Whose pulse beats quickest in zeal to oppugn or Modena, Parma, Bologna, Florence, Open us out the wider way! Dwarf, in that chapel of old St. Laurence, With the grandeur of this Day breaking o'er us! Ye who, restrained as an ancient chorus, Mute while the choryphæus spake, Hush your separate voices before us, Givers of coat and cloak too,-never Grudging that purple of yours at the best,- That all may inherit what each surrenders! Earth shall bless you, O noble emenders The plough of the world, and sow new splendours Ever the richer for what ye have given. Lead us and teach us, till earth and heaven |