I charge you by great St. Martino
And prodigies quickened by wrong,
Remember your Dead on Ticino;

Be worthy, be constant, be strong.
-Bah!-call back the Grand Duke!!

CHRISTMAS GIFTS.

ὡς βασιλεί, ὡς θεῷ, ὡς νεκρῳ.

I.

GREGORY NAZIANZEN.

THE Pope on Christmas Day
Sits in St. Peter's Chair;
But the peoples murmur and say,
'Our souls are sick and forlorn,

And who will show us where

Is the stable where Christ was born?"

II.

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.

III.

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?'

IV.

And, instead of the kine, bewilder in
Shadow of aisle and dome,

The bear who tore up the children,
The fox who burnt up the corn,
And the wolf who suckled at Rome
Brothers to slay and to scorn.

V.

Cardinals left and right of him,

Worshippers round and beneath,
The silver trumpets at sight of him
Thrill with a musical blast:
But the people say through their teeth,
'Trumpets? we wait for the Last!'

VI.

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.

VII.

Then a king of the west said, 'Good!—
I bring thee the gifts of the time;
Red, for the patriot's blood,

Green, for the martyr's crown,

White, for the dew and the rime,

When the morning of God comes down.'

VIII.

-O mystic tricolour bright!

The Pope's heart quailed like a man's. The cardinals froze at the sight,

Bowing their tonsures hoary: And the eyes in the peacock-fans Winked at the alien glory.

IX.

But the peoples exclaimed in hope,
'Now blessed be he who has brought
These gifts of the time to the Pope,

When our souls were sick and forlorn.
-And here is the star we sought,

To show us where Christ was born!'

ITALY AND THE WORLD.

I.

FLORENCE, Bologna, Parma, Modena.
When you named them a year ago,
So many graves reserved by God, in a
Day of judgment, you seemed to know,
To open and let out the resurrection.

II.

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,

fill the new earth and heaven made ready.

'III.

And if your politics were not heady,
Violent, . . 'Good,' you added, 'good
In all things! mourn on sure and steady.
Churchyard thistles are wholesome food
For our European wandering asses.

IV.

'The date of the resurrection passes
Human fore-knowledge: men unborn
Will gain by it (even in the lower classes),
But none of these. It is not the morn
Because the cock of France is crowing.

V.

'Cocks crow at midnight, seldom knowing
Starlight from dawn-light: 'tis a mad
Poor creature.' Here you paused, and growing
Scornful, . . suddenly, let us add,

The trumpet sounded, the graves were open.

VI.

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!

VII.

Hill to hill and turret to turret

Flashing the tricolour,-newly created Beautiful Italy, calm, unhurried,

Rise heroic and renovated,

Rise to the final restitution.

VIII.

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.

IX.

Bring us the higher example; release us
Into the larger coming time:

And into Christ's broad garment piece us
Rags of virtue as poor as crime,
National selfishness, civic vaunting.

X.

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,
Onward and upward, of all humanity.

XI.

For fully developed Christianity
Is civilisation perfected.

'Measure the frontier,' shall it be said,
'Count the ships,' in national vanity?
-Count the nation's heart-beats sooner.

XII.

For, though behind by a cannon or schooner, That nation still is predominant,

Whose pulse beats quickest in zeal to oppugn or Succour another, in wrong or want,

Passing the frontier in love and abhorrence.