To swell thy greatness, till our brazen chain

From farthest Ararat to ocean's stream Hath bound the nations? And when all

my vows

At length are crowned, and heav'n with earth conspires

To yield thee worship, dost thou then rebel,

And hate thy happiness? Bethink thee, maid,

Ere yet thine answer, not to be recalled,

Hath passed those ivory gates—bethink thee well.

Who shall recount the blessings which our gods

Have richly lavished on the seed of Cain?

And who, if stung by thine ingratitude, Can meet their vengeance?" Then the maiden rose,

And folding on her breast her ivory arms,

"Father," she said, "thou deem'st thy warrior gods

Are mighty,-One above is mightier: Name Him, they tremble. Kind thou

call'st them;

Lavish of blessings. Is that blessedness To sin with them? To hold a hideous rule,

Watered with widows' tears and blood of men,

O'er those who curse our name? Thy bands went forth,

And brought back captives from the palmy side

Of far Euphrates. One thou gavest me, A woman, for mine handmaid; I have heard

Her mournful songs as in the strangers' land

She wept and plied the loom. I questioned her:

Oh, what a tale she told! And are they good,

The gods whose work these are? They are not good,

And, if not good, not gods. But there

is One,

Here Ada ceased, for from her father's eye

The fire flashed fast, and on his curling lip

The white foam trembled. "Gone," he cried, "all gone!

My heart's desire, the labour of my youth,

Mine age's solace, gone! Degenerate child,

Enemy of our gods, chief enemy

To thine own glory? What forbids my foot

To spurn thy life out, or this dreadful hand

To cast thee from the tower of sacrifice

To those whom thou hast scorned? Accursed be thou

Of Him thou seekest in vain! Accursèd He

Whose hated worship hath enticed thy feet

From the bright altars of the host of heaven!

I curse Him-mark me well-I curse Him, Ada!

And, lo! He smiteth not!" But Ada bowed

Her head to earth, and hid her face,

Whose fleshly fancy doats on mortal clay,

Whose love 1 ruin! Thinkest thou this night

I have first withstood their tempting?— first have proved

Their utter weakness?" "Have the angels, then,

Visited thee of old?" the nurse inquired, "Or hath thy father told thee of their love,

And thou hast kept it from me?" As she spake,

A bright and bitter glance of lofty scorn Shot from the virgin's eyes. A mantling blush

Of hallowed courage darkened on her cheek;

She waved her arm as one whose kingly state

Repels intrusion from his privacy, And answered, with a calm but painful smile:

"They are beside us now! Nay, quake not thus,

I fear them not; yet they are terrible; But they are past-resist them and they flee,

And all is peace again; yet have I groaned

Beneath such visitation, till my faith In Him I serve hath almost passed away."

With that she rose, and wrapt in silent thought,

Gazed through the portal long, then paced awhile

The marble pavement, now from side to side

Tossing her restless arms, now clasping close

Her hands in supplication, lifting now Her eloquent eyes to heaven, -- then

sought again

Her lowly couch, and, by the nurse's side,

Resumed the wondrous tale. "O friend,"

Of one to loose ere long that golden clasp,

A royal bridegroom? Strange to me, thy words

Sunk in my soul, and busy fancy strove To picture forth that unknown visitant, His form and bearing. Musing thus, and lost

In troubled contemplation, o'er my soul A heavy slumber fell; I sank not down: I saw, I heard, I moved; the spell was laid

Within me, and from forth my secret heart

A stranger's accents came: 'O blessed maid!

Most beautiful, most honoured! Not for thee

Be mortal marriage, nor the feeble love Of those whose beauty is a morning dream,

Whose age a shadow.

whose day,

What is man,

In the poor circuit of a thousand years, Reverts again to dust? Thee, maiden!

thee

Who hate thy mother's memory; fear not them

Who fear thy mother's God; for this she gave,

Prophetic of this hour, that graven gold, Which bears the title of the Eternal One,

And binds thee to His service: guard it well,

And guard the faith it teaches-safer So,

Than girt around by brazen walls and gates

Of sevenfold cedar.' Since that hour, my heart

Hath kept its covenant, nor shrunk beneath

The spirits of evil; yet, not so repelled, They watch me in my walks, spy out

my ways,

And still with nightly whispers vex my soul,

To seek the myrtle thicket. Bolder now They speak of duty-of a father's will, Now first unkind-a father's kingly power,

Tremendous when opposed. My God, they say, Bids me guard

revere my parent; will He

A rebel daughter? Wiser to comply Ere force compels me to my happiness, And to my lover yield that sacrifice Which else my foe may seize. O God! great God!

Of whom I am, and whom I serve alone,

Be Thou my strength in weaknessThou my guide,

And save me from this hour!" Thus, as she spake,

With naked feet and silent, in the cloud Of a long mantle wrapt, as one who shuns

The busy eyes and babbling tongues of

men,

A warrior entered;-o'er his helm The casque was drawn

REGINALD HEBER (1783-1826).

THE ENTRANCE INTO THE ARK.

AND Noah went up into the ship, and

sat

The other crying, 'Let alone, O Prince; Hinder her not to live and bear much seed,

Because I hate her.'"

But he said, "Rise up, Daughter of Noah, for I have learned no words

To comfort you." Then spake her lord to her,

"Peace! or I swear that for thy dream myself

Will hate thee also."

And Niloiya said, "My sons, if one of you will hear my words,

Go now, look out, and tell me of the day,

How fares it?"

And the fateful darkness grew. But Shem went up to do his mother's will;

And all was one as though the frighted earth

Quivered and fell a-trembling; then they

hid

Their faces every one, till he returned, And spake not. "Nay," they cried, "what hast thou seen?

O is it come to this?" He answered them,

"The door is shut."

JEAN INGELOW (1820-1897).