Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/55



amid the desert. Not of him Who, in rough garments clad, and locust-fed, Cried to the sinful multitude, and claim'd Fruits of repentance, with the lifted scourge Of terror and reproof. A milder guide, With gentler tones, doth teach the listening throng. Benignant pity moved him as he saw The shepherdless and poor. He knew to touch The springs of every nature. The high lore Of Heaven he humbled to the simplest child, And in the guise of parable allured The sluggish mind to follow truth and live.

They whom the thunders of the law had stunn'd Woke to the Gospel's melody with tears; And the glad Jewish mother held her babe High in her arms, that its young eye might greet Jesus of Nazareth. It was so still, Though thousands cluster'd there, that not a sound Brake the strong spell of eloquence which held The wilderness in chains, save now and then, As the gale freshen'd, came the murmur'd speech Of distant billows, chafing with the shores Of the Tiberian Sea.