THE QUAKER ALUMNI. 257 We need not pray over the Pharisee's | The new song they sing hath a threefold accord, prayer, Nor claim that our wisdom is Benjamin's And they own one baptism, one faith, share. So the man be a man, let him worship, at will, In Jerusalem's courts, or on Gerizim's hill. When she makes up her jewels, what cares yon good town and one Lord! For the Baptist of WAYLAND, the Quaker I, who never sat down with the boys and of BROWN? the girls At the feet of your Slocums, and Cart- On your festival's altar my poor gift, to- I would joy in your joy: let me have a In the warmth of your welcome of hand and of heart, On your play-ground of boyhood unbend the brow's care, And shift the old burdens our shoulders must bear. Long live the good School! giving out year by year Recruits to true manhood and womanhood dear: Brave boys, modest maidens, in beauty sent forth, The living epistles and proof of its worth! "The thing which has the most dissevered the people from the Pope, - the unforgivable thing, the breaking point between him and them, has been the encouragement and promotion he gave to the officer under whom were executed the slaughters of Perugia. That made the breaking point in many honest hearts that had clung to him before." - Harriet Beecher Stowe's "Letters from Italy." THE tall, sallow guardsmen their horsetails have spread, Flaming out in their violet, yellow, and red; And behind go the lackeys in crimson and buff, And the chamberlains gorgeous in velvet and ruff; Next, in red-legged pomp, come the Each a lord of the church and a prince cardinals forth, of the earth. The good Father's missives, and "Thus | (A blessing for him surely can't go saith the Lord!" amiss) Would kneel down the sanctified slipper to kiss. Hist! here's the arch-knave in a cardinal's hat, With the heart of a wolf, and the stealth of a cat (As if Judas and Herod together were rolled), Who keeps, all as one, the Pope's conscience and gold, Mounts guard on the altar, and pilfers from thence, And flatters St. Peter while stealing his pence! Who doubts Antonelli? Have miracles ceased When robbers say mass, and Barabbas is priest? When the Church eats and drinks, at its mystical board, The true flesh and blood carved and shed by its sword, When its martyr, unsinged, claps the crown on his head, And roasts, as his proxy, his neighbor instead! There the bells jow and jangle the same blessed way That they did when they rang for Bartholomew's day. Hark! the tallow-faced monsters, nor women nor boys, Stand aside, men of Rome! Here's a Vex the air with a shrill, sexless horror hangman-faced Swiss of noise. Te Deum laudamus! - All round with- To see our Father's hand once more Reverse for us the plenteous horn out stint The incense-pot swings with a taint of Of autumn, filled and running o'er With fruit, and flower, and golden corn! Once more the liberal year laughs out O'er richer stores than gems or gold; Once more with harvest-song and shout Is Nature's bloodless triumph told. Our common mother rests and sings, Like Ruth, among her garnered sheaves; Her lap is full of goodly things, Her brow is bright with autumn leaves. O favors every year made new! The bounty overruns our due, The fulness shames our discontent. We shut our eyes, the flowers bloom on ; God gives us with our rugged soil The power to make it Eden-fair, And richer fruits to crown our toil Than summer-wedded islands bear. Who murmurs at his lot to-day? Beside the bounteous board of home? Thank Heaven, instead, that Freedom's arm Can change a rocky soil to gold, That brave and generous lives can warm A clime with northern ices cold. And let these altars, wreathed with flowers And piled with fruits, awake again Thanksgivings for the golden hours, The early and the latter rain! |