In The Yule-Log Glow--Book 3 | Page 6

the son crouched
all a-tremble like any lamb new-yeaned.
When he went to the burial, some one's staff he borrowed,--tottered
and leaned.
But his lips were loose, not locked,--kept muttering,
mumbling. "There! At his cursing and swearing!" the youngsters cried;
but the elders
thought, "In prayer."
A boy threw stones; he picked them up and stored them in his vest; So
tottered, muttered, mumbled he, till he died, perhaps found rest. "Is
there a reason in nature for these hard hearts?" O Lear, That a reason
out of nature must turn them soft, seems clear!
_Robert Browning._
GOOD KING WENCESLAS.
Good King Wenceslas looked out,
On the feast of Stephen,
When
the snow lay round about,
Deep, and crisp, and even;
Brightly
shone the moon that night,
Tho' the frost was cruel,
When a poor
man came in sight,
Gathering winter fuel.
"Hither, page, and stand by me,
If thou know'st it, telling,
Yonder
peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?"
"Sire, he lives a
good league hence,
Underneath the mountain;
Right against the

forest fence,
By Saint Agnes' fountain."
"Bring me flesh, and bring me wine,
Bring me pine-logs hither:

Thou and I will see him dine,
When we bear them thither."
Page
and monarch forth they went,
Forth they went together
Thro' the
rude wind's wild lament
And the bitter weather.
"Sire, the night is darker now,
And the wind blows stronger;
Fails
my heart, I know not how,
I can go no longer."
"Mark my footsteps,
good my page;
Tread thou in them boldly:
Thou shalt find the
winter's rage
Freeze thy blood less coldly."
In his master's steps he trod,
Where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was
in the very sod
Which the saint had printed.
Therefore, Christian
men, be sure,
Wealth or rank possessing,
Ye who now will bless the
poor,
Shall yourselves find blessing.
_Translated from the Latin, by J. M. Neale._
THE WISE MEN OF THE EAST.
Three kings went riding from the East
Through fine weather and wet;

"And whither shall we ride," they said,
"Where we ha' not ridden
yet?"
"And whither shall we ride," they said,
"To find the hidden thing

That times the course of all our stars
And all our auguring?"
They were the Wise Men of the East,
And none so wise as they;

"Alas!" the King of Persia cried,
"And must ye ride away?
"Yet since ye go a-riding, sirs,
I pray ye, ride for me,
And carry me
my golden gifts
To the King o' Galilee.
"Go riding into Palestine,
A long ride and a fair!"
"'Tis well!" the

Mages answered him,
"As well as anywhere!"
They rode by day, they rode by night,
The stars came out on high,--

"And, oh!" said King Balthazar,
As he gazed into the sky,
"We ride by day, we ride by night,
To a King in Galilee;
We leave a
king in Persia,
And kings no less are we.
"Yet often in the deep blue night,
When stars burn far and dim,
I
wish I knew a greater King,
To fall and worship him.
"A king who should not care to reign,
But wonderful and fair;
A
king--a king that were a star
Aloft in miles of air!"
"A star is good," said Melchior,
"A high, unworldly thing;
But I
would choose a soul alive
To be my Lord and King.
"Not Herod, nay, nor Cyrus, nay,
Not any king at all;
For I would
choose a new-born child
Laid in a manger-stall."
"'Tis well," the black King Casper cried,
"For mighty men are ye;

But no such humble king were meet
For my simplicity.
"A star is small and very far,
A babe's a simple thing;
The very Son
of God himself
Shall be my Lord and King!"
Then smiled the King Balthazar;
"A good youth!" Melchior cried;

And young and old, without a word,
Along the hills they ride,
Till, lo! among the western skies
There grows a shining thing--

"The star! Behold the star," they shout;
"Behold Balthazar's King!"
And, lo! within the western skies
The star begins to flit;
The three
kings spur their horses on,
And follow after it.
And when they reach the king's palace,
They cry, "Behold the place!"


But, like a shining bird, the star
Flits on in heaven apace.
Oh they rode on, and on they rode,
Till they reached a lonely wold,

Where shepherds keep their flocks by night,
And the night was chill
and cold.
Oh they rode on, and on they rode,
Till they reach a little town,
And
there the star in heaven stands still
Above a stable brown.
The town is hardly a village,
The stable's old and poor,
But there
the star in heaven stands still
Above the stable door.
And through the open door, the straw
And the tired beasts they see;

And the Babe, laid in a manger,
That sleepeth peacefully.
"All hail, the King of Melchior!"
The three Wise Men begin;
King
Melchior swings from off his horse,
And he would have entered in.
But why do the horses whinny and neigh?
And what thing fills the
night
With wheeling spires of angels,
And streams of heavenly
light?
Above the stable roof they turn
And hover in a ring,
And "Glory be
to God on high
And peace on earth," they sing.
King Melchior kneels upon the grass
And falls a-praying there;

Balthazar lets the bridle drop,
And gazes in the