The years went on apace.

Manassah his son, his youngest born,
Trading the isleted sea for corn,

Was wrecked and picked up by the smuggler boat

Of a certain prowling Candiote;
And, being young and hale, was sold
By the Greek a bondsman to the Turk.
Zillah his wife, waxed white and old.
Rachel, his daughter, loved not work,
But walked by the light of her own
dark eyes

In wicked ways for the sake of gain.
Meanwhile Israel's destinies
Survived the scorching stake, and Spain
At length grew weary of burning men;
When hungered, and haggard,

gaunt, these two

and

The little candle feebly gave,

As it winked and winced from grave

to grave,

Went fast to furious waste; the same As a fever-famisht human hope

That is doomed, from grief to grief, to grope

On darkness blind to a doubtful goal,
And, swayed by passion here and there
In conflict with some vast despair,
Consumes the substance of the soul
In wavering ways about the world.
The deep enormous night unfurled
Her bannered blackness left and right,
Fold heaped on fold, to mock such
light

With wild defiance; no star pearled
The heavy pall, but horror hurled
Shadow on shadow; while for spite
The very graves kept out of sight,
And heaven's sworn hatred, winning
might

From earth's ill-will, with darkness
curled
Darkness, all space confounding quite,
So to engender night on night.

who-knows-whence

knows-whither;

to who

The unquiet Spirit abroad on the air Moved with a moan that way, and spent A moment or more in the effort to vent On the tortured tree which he came to scare

The sullen fit of discontent;

But, laughing low as he grew aware
Of the long-already-imposed despair
Of the terrified thing he had paused
to torment,

He passed, pursuing his purpose elsewhere,

And followed the whim of his wicked bent:

A rheumy glow-worm, come to peer Into the hollow trunk, crawled near, And glimmered awhile, but intense fear, Or tame connivance with something

For all its gestures void and vain, Which still at their utmost fail to ex

plain

Any natural cause for the terror that strains

Each desperate limb to be freed and

away,

In sheer paralysis of dismay

Whom the Greek man sold to be slave

to a slave,

(May the Lord requite the lying knave!)

I will go down alone to the pit.
Thou, therefore, mother, watch, and sit
In prayer for me, by the mouth of the

grave.

The light will hardly last me, I fear. And what is to do must be quickly done.

Mercy on us, mother! .... Look here; Three inches more, and the light will be gone!

Quick, mother, the candle-quick! I fear.

To be left in the darkness alone."

XVIII.

The mother sat by the grave, and listened.

She waited: she heard the footsteps go
Under the earth, wandering, slow.
She looked: deep down the taper glist-
ened.

Then, the voice of Rachel from below:

"Mother, mother, stoop and hold!"

And she flung up four ouches of gold. The old woman counted them, ouches four,

Beaten out of the massy ore.

"Child of my blossom, blessed art thou!
The hand of the Lord be yet with thee!
As thou art strong in thy spirit now,
Many and pleasant thy days shall be.
As a vine in a garden, fair to behold,
Green in her branches, shalt thou grow,
And so have gladness when thou art
old.

Rachel, Rachel, be thou bold!
More gold yet, and still more gold!"

"Mother, mother, the light burns low. The candle is one inch shorter now, And I dare not be left in the darkness alone."

"Rachel, Rachel, go on! go on!

Of thee have I said, She shall not shrink!

Thy brother is yet a bondsman,-think! Yet once more, and he is free.

And whom shall he praise for this but thee?

Rachel, Rachel, be thou bold!
Manassah is groaning over the sea.
More gold yet, and still more gold!"

"Mother, mother, stoop and hold!”

And she flung up from below again
Cups of the carven silver twain.
Solid silver was each great cup.
The old woman caught them as they

came up.

"Rachel, Rachel, well hast thou done! Manassah is free. Go on! go on! Royal dainties forever be thine! Rachel's eyes shall be red with wine, Rachel's mouth shall with milk be filled, And her bread be fat. I praise thee, my child,

For surely thou hast freed thy brother. The deed was good, but there resteth another,

And art thou not the child of thy mother?

Once more, Rachel, yet once more!
Thy mother is very poor and old.
Must she close her eyes before
They see the thing she would behold?
More gold yet, and still more gold!"

"Mother, the light is very low.
The candle is wellnigh wasted now,
And I dare not be left in the darkness
alone."

"Rachel, Rachel, go on! go on! Much is done, but there resteth more. Ye are young, Rachel, shall it be told That my bones were laid at my children's door?

More gold yet. and still more gold!"

"Mother. mother, stoop and hold!"

The voice came fainter from beneath;
And she flung up a bejeweled sheath.
The sheath was thick with many a gem;
The old woman carefully counted them.
"Rachel, Rachel, thee must I praise,
Who makest pleasant thy mother's days.
Blesséd be thou in all thy ways!
Surely for this must I praise thee, my
daughter,

And therefore in fulness shalt thou dwell

The mother sits by the grave, and listens.

She waits she hears the footsteps go Far under the earth-bewildered-slow. She looks the light no longer glistens. Still the voice of Rachel from below,

"Mother, mother, they have me, and hold!

Mother, there is a curse on thy gold! Mercy! mercy! The light is gone,Leave me not here in the darkness alone,

Mother, mother, help me and save!" Still Rachel's voice from the grave doth

moan.

Still Rachel's mother sits by the grave. OWEN MEREDITH (1831-1891). (ROBERT, EARL OF LYTTON.)

HOLY-CROSS DAY.

ON WHICH THE JEWS WERE FORCED TO ATTEND AN ANNUAL CHRISTIAN

SERMON IN ROME.

["Now was come about Holy-Cross Day, and now must my lord preach his first sermon to the Jews: as it was of old cared for in the merciful bowels of the Church, that, so to speak, a crumb at least from her conspicuous table here in Rome should be, though but once yearly, cast to the famishing dogs, under-trampled and bespittenupon beneath the feet of the guests. And a moving sight in truth, this, of so many of the besotted blind restif and ready-to-perish Hebrews! now maternally brought-nay, (for He saith, 'Compel them to come in') haled, as it were, by the head and hair, and against their obstinate hearts, to partake of the heavenly grace. What awakening, what striving with tears, what working of a yeasty conscience! Nor was my lord wanting to himself on so apt an occasion; witness the abundance of conversions which did incontinently reward him: though not to my lord be altogether the glory."Diary by the Bishop's Secretary, 1600.]

What the Jews really said, on thus being driven to church, was rather to this effect:

I.

FEE, faw, fum! bubble and squeak! Blessedest Thursday's the fat of the week.

Rumble and tumble, sleek and rough, Stinking and savory, smug and gruff, Take the church-road, for the bell's due chime

Gives us the summons-'t is sermontime!

II.

Bob, here's Barnabas! Job, that's you? Up stumps Solomon-bustling too? Shame, man! greedy beyond your years To handsel the bishop's shaving-shears? Fair play 's a jewel! Leave friends in the lurch?

Stand on a line ere you start for the church!