"There within, her sister Zillah Stirred no limb to shun her torture, Held her mother's hand and kissed her, Saying, 'We will go together.'

"This the outer throng could witness, As the flames enwound the dwelling, Like a glory they illumined Awfully the martyred daughter.

"Closer, fiercer, round they gathered, Not a natural cry escaped her, Helpless clung to her her mother, Hand in hand they went together.

"Since that 'Act of Faith' three winters Have rolled by, yet on the forehead Of Jehudah is imprinted Still the horror of that morning.

"Saragossa hath respected His false creed; a man of sorrows, He hath walked secure among us, And his art repays our sufferance."

Thus he spoke and ceased. The Abbot Lent him an impatient hearing, Then outbroke with angry accent, "We have borne three years, thou sayest?

"'T is enough; my vow is sacred.

These shall perish with their brethren.

Hark ye! In my veins' pure current Were a single drop found Jewish,

"I would shrink not from outpouring All my life blood, but to purge it.

Shall I gentler prove to others?

Mercy would be sacrilegious.

"Ne'er again at thy soul's peril, Speak to me of Jewish beauty, Jewish skill, or Jewish virtue.

I have said. Do thou remember."

Down behind the purple hillside Dropped the sun; above the garden Rang the Angelus' clear cadence Summoning the monks to vespers.

TRANSLATIONS FROM PETRARCH.

IN VITA. LXVII.

Since thou and I have proven many a time That all our hope betrays us and deceives, To that consummate good which never grieves Uplift thy heart, towards a happier clime.

This life is like a field of flowering thyme, Amidst the herbs and gra.s.s the serpent lives; If aught unto the sight brief pleasure gives, 'T is but to snare the soul with treacherous lime.

So, wouldst thou keep thy spirit free from cloud, A tranquil habit to thy latest day, Follow the few, and not the vulgar crowd.

Yet mayest thou urge, "Brother, the very way Thou showest us, wherefrom thy footsteps proud (And never more than now) so oft did stray."

IN VITA. LXXVI.

Sennuccio, I would have thee know the shame That's dealt to me, and what a life is mine.

Even as of yore, I struggle, burn and pine.

Laura transports me, I am still the same.

All meekness here, all pride she there became, Now harsh, now kind, now cruel, now benign; Here honor clothed her, there a grace divine; Now gentle, now disdainful of my flame.

Here sweetly did she sing; there sat awhile; There she turned back, she lingered in this spot.

Here with her splendid eyes my heart she clove.

She uttered there a word, and here did smile.

Here she changed color. Ah, in such fond thought, Holds me by day and night, our master Love.

IN VITA. CV.

I saw on earth angelic graces beam, Celestial beauty in our world below, Whose mere remembrance thrills with grief and woe; All I see now seems shadow, smoke and dream.

I saw in those twin-lights the tear-drops gleam, Those lights that made the sun with envy glow, And from those lips such sighs and words did flow, As made revolve the hills, stand still the stream.

Love, courage, wit, pity and pain in one, Wept in more dulcet and harmonious strain, Than any other that the world has known.

So rapt was heaven in the dear refrain, That not a leaf upon the branch was blown, Such utter sweetness filled the aerial plain.

IN VITA. CIX.

The G.o.d of Love and I in wonder stared, (Ne'er having gazed on miracles ere now,) Upon my lady's smiling lips and brow, Who only with herself may be compared.

Neath the calm beauty of her forehead bared, Those twin stars of my love did burn and flow, No lesser lamps again the path might show To the proud lover who by these had fared.

Oh miracle, when on the gra.s.s at rest, Herself a flower, she would clasp and hold A leafy branch against her snow-white breast.

What joy to see her, in the autumn cold, Wander alone, with maiden thoughts possess'd, Weaving a garland of dry, crispy gold!

IN MORTE. II. ON THE DEATH OF CARDINAL

COLONNA AND LAURA.

The n.o.ble Column, the green Laurel-tree Are fall'n, that shaded once my weary mind.

Now I have lost what I shall never find, From North to South, from Red to Indian Sea.