Save that within her arms is laid An infant, like his mother fair; Though never earth-born babe displayed Such beauties as are blended there. No tints of healthful crimson glow The joy of heart to childhood given; But vain, O vain, it were to seek For charms of earth in Child of Heaven! For this is He, the mystic Child! Yea, this the virgin's promised Son! Behold the mother undefiled! Behold her babe,—the Holy One! And do they wander forth alone, By Israel slighted or forgot? And when the Highest seeks "His own," Do e'en "His own" receive Him not? Thomas Dale. UNDER a palm-tree, by the green old Nile, Lulled on His mother's breast, the fair child lics, With dove-like breathings, and a tender smile Brooding above the slumber of His eyes; M While, through the stillness of the burning skies, Regal and still as everlasting things. Vain pomps! from Him, with that pure, flowery cheek, Soft shadowed by His mother's drooping head, A new-born spirit, mighty, and yet meek, O'er the whole world like vernal air shall spread, Felicia Hemans. |