All sorrow, labour, suffering, I, tallying it, absorb in myself;

Many times have I been rejected, taunted, put in prison, and crucified—and many times shall be again;

All the world have I given up for my dear brothers' and sisters' sake-for the soul's sake; Wending my way through the homes of men,

rich or poor, with the kiss of affection; For I am affection-I am the cheer-bringing God, with hope, and all-enclosing Charity; (Conqueror yet-for before me all the armies

and soldiers of the earth shall yet bow-and all the weapons of war become impotent :) With indulgent words, as to children—with fresh and sane words, mine only;

Young and strong I pass, knowing well I am destin'd myself to an early death:

But my Charity has no death-my Wisdom dies not, neither early nor late,

And my sweet Love, bequeath'd here and elsewhere, never dies.

Aloof, dissatisfied, plotting revolt,

Comrade of criminals, brother of slaves,

Crafty, despised, a drudge, ignorant,

With sudra face and worn brow, black, but in the depths of my heart, proud as any;

Lifted, now and always, against whoever, scorning, assumes to rule me;

Morose, full of guile, full of reminiscences, brooding, with many wiles,

(Though it was thought I was baffled and dispell'd,

and my wiles done—but that will never be;) Defiant, I, SATAN, still live-still utter words-in

new lands duly appearing, (and old ones also;) Permanent here, from my side, warlike, equal with any, real as any,

Nor time, nor change, shall ever change me or my words.

Santa SPIRITA, breather, life,

Beyond the light, lighter than light,

Beyond the flames of hell-joyous, leaping easily above hell;

Beyond Paradise-perfumed solely with mine own perfume;

Including all life on earth-touching, including God-including Saviour and Satan;

Ethereal, pervading all, (for without me, what were all? what were God?)

Essence of forms-life of the real identities, permanent, positive, (namely the unseen,)

Life of the great round world, the sun and stars, and of man-I, the general Soul,

Here the square finishing, the solid, I the most solid, Breathe my breath also through these songs.

ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH

HELP

When the enemy is near thee,
Call on us!

In our hands we will upbear thee,
He shall neither scathe nor scare thee,
He shall fly thee and shall fear thee.
Call on us!

Call when all good friends have left thee,
Of all good sights and sounds bereft thee,
Call when hope and heart are sinking,
When the brain is sick with thinking,
Help, O help!

When the panic comes upon thee,
When necessity seems on thee,

Hope and choice have all foregone thee,
Fate and force are closing o'er thee,
And but one way stands before thee,
Call on us!

O, and if thou dost not call,

Be but faithful, that is all!

Go right on, and close behind thee
There shall follow still, and find thee,
Help, sure help!

SURETY

Though to the vilest things beneath the moon
For poor Ease' sake I give away my heart,
And for the moment's sympathy let part

My sight and sense of truth, Thy precious boon,
My painful earnings, lost, all lost, as soon,
Almost, as gained; and though aside I start,
Belie Thee daily, hourly,—still Thou art,
Art surely as in heaven the sun at noon;
How much so e'er I sin, whate'er I do
Of evil, still the sky above is blue,
The stars look down in beauty as before:
It is enough to walk as best we may,

To walk, and, sighing, dream of that blest day
When ill we cannot quell shall be no more.

GEORGE ELIOT

"O MAY I JOIN THE CHOIR INVISIBLE"

Longum illud tempus, quum non ero, magis me movet, quam hoc exiguum.-Cicero, Ad Att., xii: 18.

O may I join the choir invisible

Of those immortal dead who live again

In minds made better by their presence: live In pulses stirred to generosity,

In deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn

For miserable aims that end with self,

In thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars,

And with their mild persistence urge man's search To vaster issues.

So to live is heaven:

To make undying music in the world,
Breathing as beauteous order that controls
With growing sway the growing life of man.
So we inherit that sweet purity

For which we struggled, failed, and agonized
With widening retrospect that bred despair.
Rebellious flesh that would not be subdued,
A vicious parent shaming still its child
Poor anxious penitence, is quick dissolved;
Its discords, quenched by meeting harmonies,
Die in the large and charitable air.
And all our rarer, better, truer self,

That sobbed religiously in yearning song,

That watched to ease the burthen of the world,
Laboriously tracing what must be,

And what may yet be better—saw within
A worthier image for the sanctuary,
And shaped it forth before the multitude
Divinely human, raising worship so

To higher reverence more mixed with love-
That better self shall live till human Time
Shall fold its eyelids, and the human sky