The mighty Three the ranks broke through
Of armed foes, and water drew
For David, their beloved king,
At his own sweet native spring.
Back through their armed foes they haste,
With the hard-earn'd treasure graced.
But when the good king David found
What they had done, he on the ground
The water pour’d. “Because," said he,
“ That it was at the jeopardy
“ Of your three lives this thing ye did,
“ That I should drink it, God forbid."

SALOME.

Once on a charger there was laid,
And brought before a royal maid,
As price of attitude and grace,

guiltless head, a holy face.

It was on Herod's natal day,
Who o'er Judea's land held sway.
He married his own brother's wife,
Wicked Herodias. She the life
Of John the Baptist long had sought,
Because he openly had taught
That she a life unlawful led,
Having her husband's brother wed.

This was he, that saintly John,
Who in the wilderness alone
Abiding, did for clothing wear
A garment made of camel's hair ;
Honey and locusts were his food,
And he was most severely good.

He preached penitence and tears,
And waking first the sinner's fears,
Prepared a path, made smooth a way,
For his diviner master's day.

Herod kept in princely state His birth-day. On his throne he sate, After the feast, beholding her Who danced with grace peculiar; Fair Salome, who did excel All in that land for dancing well. The feastful monarch's heart was fired, And whatsoe'er thing she desired, Though half his kingdom it should be, He in his pleasure swore that he Would give the graceful Salome. The damsel was Herodias' daughter : She to the queen hastes, and besought her To teach her what great gift to name. Instructed by Herodias, came The damsel back; to Herod said, “ Give me John the Baptist's head; “ And in a charger let it be “ Hither straitway brought to me." Herod her suit would fain deny, But for his oath's sake must comply.

When painters would by art express Beauty in unloveliness, Thee, Herodias' daughter, thee, They fittest subject take to be. They give thy form and features grace ; But ever in thy beauteous face They shew a steadfast cruel gaze, An eye unpitying; and amaze In all beholders deep they mark, That thou betrayest not one spark Of feeling for the ruthless deed, That did thy praiseful dance succeed. For on the head they make you look, As if a sullen joy you took, A cruel triumph, wicked pride, That for your sport a saint had died.

LINES

SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE OF TWO FEMALES

BY LIONARDO DA VINCI.

The lady Blanch, regardless of all ber lovers'

fears, To the Urs’line convent hastens, and long the

Abbess hears. “ O Blanch, my child, repent ye of the courtly