In The Yule-Log Glow--Book 3 | Page 4

might,
And now was queen of land
and sea.
No sound was heard of clashing wars,
Peace brooded o'er
the hushed domain;
Apollo, Pallas, Jove, and Mars
Held
undisturbed their ancient reign,
In the solemn midnight
Centuries
ago.
'Twas in the calm and silent night!
The senator of haughty Rome

Impatient urged his chariot's flight,
From lonely revel rolling home.

Triumphal arches, gleaming, swell
His breast with thoughts of
boundless sway;
What recked the Roman what befell
A paltry
province far away
In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago?
Within that province far away
Went plodding home a weary boor;

A streak of light before him lay,
Fallen through a half-shut
stable-door,
Across his path. He passed; for naught
Told what was
going on within.
How keen the stars! his only thought;
The air how
calm, and cold, and thin!
In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago.
O strange indifference! Low and high
Drowsed over common joys

and cares;
The earth was still, but knew not why;
The world was
listening unawares.
How calm a moment may precede
One that
shall thrill the world forever!
To that still moment none would heed,

Man's doom was linked, no more to sever,
In the solemn midnight

Centuries ago.
It is the calm and solemn night!
A thousand bells ring out and throw

Their joyous peals abroad, and smite
The darkness, charmed, and
holy now!
The night that erst no name had worn,
To it a happy
name is given;
For in that stable lay, new-born,
The peaceful Prince
of earth and heaven,
In the solemn midnight
Centuries ago.
_Alfred H. Domett._
THE THREE DAMSELS.
(SUGGESTED BY A DRAWING OF DANTE GABRIEL
ROSSETTI'S.)
Three damsels in the queen's chamber,
The queen's mouth was most
fair;
She spake a word of God's mother
As the combs went in her
hair.
Mary that is of might,
Bring us to thy Son's sight.
They held the gold combs out from her
A span's length off her head;

She sang this song of God's mother
And of her bearing-bed.
Mary most full of grace,
Bring us to thy Son's face.
When she sat at Joseph's hand,
She looked against her side;
And
either way from the short silk band
Her girdle was all wried.
Mary that all good may,
Bring us to thy Son's way.
Mary had three women for her bed,
The twain were maidens clean;


The first of them had white and red,
The third had riven green.
Mary that is so sweet,
Bring us to thy Son's feet.
She had three women for her hair,
Two were gloved soft and shod;

The third had feet and fingers bare,
She was the likest God.
Mary that wieldeth land,
Bring us to thy Son's hand.
She had three women for her ease,
The twain were good women;

The first two were the two Maries,
The third was Magdalen.
Mary that perfect is,
Bring us to thy Son's kiss.
Joseph had three workmen in his stall,
To serve him well upon;
The
first of them were Peter and Paul,
The third of them was John.
Mary, God's handmaiden,
Bring us to thy Son's ken.
"If your child be none other man's,
But if it be very mine,
The
bedstead shall be gold two spans,
The bed-foot silver fine."
Mary that made God mirth,
Bring us to thy Son's birth.
"If the child be some other man's,
And if it be none of mine,
The
manger shall be straw two spans,
Betwixen kine and kine."
Mary that made sin cease,
Bring us to thy Son's peace.
Christ was born upon this wise:
It fell on such a night,
Neither with
sounds of psalteries,
Nor with fire for light.
Mary that is God's spouse,
Bring us to thy Son's house.
The star came out upon the east
With a great sound and sweet:

Kings gave gold to make him feast
And myrrh for him to eat.

Mary of thy sweet mood,
Bring us to thy Son's good.
He had two handmaids at his head,
One handmaid at his feet;
The
twain of them were fair and red,
The third one was right sweet.
Mary that is most wise,
Bring us to thy Son's eyes.
Amen.
_Algernon Charles Swinburne._
KING OLAF'S CHRISTMAS.
At Drontheim, Olaf the King
Heard the bells of Yule-tide ring,
As
he sat in his banquet hall,
Drinking the nut-brown ale,
With his
bearded Berserks hale
And tall.
Three days his Yule-tide feasts
He held with Bishops and Priests,

And his horn filled up to the brim;
But the ale was never too strong,

Nor the Sagaman's tale too long,
For him.
O'er his drinking-horn, the sign
He made of the cross divine
As he
drank, and muttered his prayers;
But the Berserks evermore
Made
the sign of the Hammer of Thor
Over theirs.
The gleams of the fire-light dance
Upon helmet and hauberk and
lance
And laugh in the eyes of the king;
And he cries to Halfred the
Scald,
Gray-bearded, wrinkled, and bald:
"Sing!
"Sing me a song divine,
With a sword in every line,
And this shall
be thy reward;"
And he loosened the belt at his waist,
And in front
of the singer placed
His sword.
"Quern-biter of Hakon the Good,
Wherewith at a stroke he hewed

The millstone through and through,
And Foot-breadth of Thoralf the
Strong
Were neither so broad nor so long
Nor so true."

Then the Scald took his harp and sang,
And loud through the music
rang
The sound of that shining word;
And the harp-strings a