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BLIND BARTIMEUS.

Ye that have eyes, yet can not see,
In darkness and in misery,

Recall those mighty Voices Three,

̓Ιησοῦ, ἐλέησόν με

Θάρσει, ἔγειραι, ύπαγε!

«Η πίστις σου σέσωκέ σε !

H. W. Longfellow.

The Daughter of Herodias.

But when Herod's birth-day was kept, the daughter of Herodias danced before them, and pleased Herod. Whereupon he promised, with an oath, to give her whatsoever she would ask. And she, being before instructed of her mother, said, Give me here John Baptist's head in a charger. And the king was sorry: nevertheless, for the oath's sake, and them that sat with him at meat, he commanded it to be given her.-ST. MATTHEW xiv. 6-9

SERENE in the moonlight the pure flowers lay;

All was still save the plash of the fountain's soft play;
And white as its foam gleamed the walls of the palace;
But within were hot lips quaffing fire from the chalice;
For Herod, the Tetrarch, was feasting that night
The lords of Machærus, and brave was the sight!
Yet mournful the contrast, without and within,
Here were purity, peace-there were riot and sin!
The vast and magnificent banqueting-room
Was of marble Egyptian, in form and in gloom;

And around, wild and dark as a demon's dread thought,
Strange shapes, full of terror, yet beauty, were wrought.
Th' ineffable sorrow, that dwells in the face

Of the Sphynx, wore a soft and mysterious grace,
Dim, even amid the full flood of light poured
From a thousand high clustering lamps on the board;
Those lamps,—each a serpent of jewels and gold,—-
That seemed to hiss forth the fierce flame as it rolled.

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THE DAUGHTER OF HERODIAS.

Back flashed to that ray the rich vessels that lay

Profuse on the tables in brilliant array;

And clear through the crystal the glowing wine gleamed, And dazzling the robes of the revelers seemed,

While Herod, the eagle-eyed, ruled o'er the scene,

A lion in spirit, a monarch in mien.

The goblet was foaming, the revel rose high, There were pride and fierce joy in the haughty king's eye, For his chiefs and his captains bowed low at his word, And the feast was right royal that burden'd the board. Lo! light as a star through a gathered cloud stealing, What spirit glanced in 'mid the guard at the door? Their stern bands divide, a fair figure revealing; She bounds, in her beauty, the dim threshold o'er. Her dark eyes are lovely with tenderest truth; The bloom on her cheek is the blossom of youth; And a smile that steals thro' it, is rich with the ray Of a heart full of love and of innocent play. Soft fall her fair tresses her light form around;

Soft fall her fair tresses, nor braided nor bound;

And her white robe is loose, and her dimpled arms bare:

For she is but a child, without trouble or care;

Now round the glad vision wild music is heard,

Is she gifted with winglets of fairy or bird?

For, lo! as if borne on the waves of that sound,

With white arms upwreathing, she floats from the ground.
Still glistens the goblet,-'tis heeded no more!
And the jest and the song of the banquet are o'er ;
For the revelers, spell-bound by beauty and grace,
Have forgotten all earth, save that form and that face.
It is done!-for one moment, mute, motionless, fair,

THE DAUGHTER OF HERODIAS.

The phantom of light pauses playfully there;
The next, blushing richly, once more it takes wing,
And she kneels at the footstool of Herod the King.
Her young head is drooping, her eyes are bent low,
Her hands meekly crossed on her bosom of snow,
And, veiling her figure, her shining hair flows,
While Herod, flushed high with the revel, arose.
Outspake the rash monarch,-"Now, maiden, impart,
Ere thou leave us, the loftiest hope of thy heart!
By the God of my fathers! whate'er it may be,-
To the half of my kingdom,-'tis granted to thee!"
The girl, half-bewildered, uplifted her eyes,
Dilated with timid delight and surprise,

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And a swift, glowing smile o'er her happy face stole,
As if some sunny wish had just woke in her soul.
Will she tell it? Ah, no! She has caught the wild gleam
Of a soldier's dark eye, and she starts from her dream;
Falters forth her sweet gratitude,-veils her fair frame,—
And glides from the presence, all glowing with shame.

Of costly cedar, rarely carved,

The royal chambers ceiling,

The columned walls, of marble rich,
Its brightest hues revealing;

Around the room a starry smile

The lamp of crystal shed;

But warmest lay its lustre on

A noble lady's head;

Her dark hair bound with burning gems

Whose fitful lightning-glow,

THE DAUGHTER OF HERODIAS.

Is tame beside the wild, black eyes
That proudly flash below:

The Jewish rose and olive blend

Their beauty in her face;

She bears her in her high estate,
With an imperial grace;

All gorgeous glows with orient gold
The broidery of her vest;
With precious stones its purple fold
Is clasped upon her breast;
She gazes from her lattice forth:

What sees the lady there?

A strange, wild beauty crowns the scene,

But she has other care!

Far off fair Moab's emerald slopes,

And Jordan's lovely vale;

And nearer,-heights where fleetest foot

Of wild gazelle would fail;

While crowning every verdant ridge,

Like drifts of moonlit snow,

Rich palaces and temples rise

Around, above, below,

Gleaming through groves of terebinth,

Of palm, and sycamore,

Where the swift torrents dashing free,
Their mountain music pour;

And arched o'er all, the eastern heaven
Lights up with glory rare

The landscape's wild magnificence ;—
But she has other care!