Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/200



, take thy mingled cup. The treacherous world Hath dregg'd it for thee, though her smile was bright; Yea, when her lip with promised joy was curl'd,   She falsely mingled myrrh and aconite;

And mid thy revels in thy lofty halls, A sever'd hand, with fingers pale and still, Wrote "Mene—Mene—Tekel" on thy walls, But yet repine not, thou hast had thy will;

The sparkling foam, from earth's enchantments born, Didst thou not choose it for thy daily draught? And didst thou not the poor in spirit scorn, Who with unswerving step and chasten'd thought Held on the "narrow way," mid rock and thorn, And duly bow'd the knee unto the manger-born?