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From the confessionals I hear arise

Rehearsals of forgotten tragedies,

And lamentations from the crypts below;
And then a voice celestial, that begins

With the pathetic words, Although your sins
As scarlet be,” and ends with “ as the snow.”


LIFT mine eyes, and all the windows blaze
With forms of saints and holy men who died,
Here martyred and hereafter glorified ;
And the great Rose upon its leaves displays
Christ's Triumph, and the angelic roundelays

With splendour upon splendour multiplied ;
And Beatrice again at Dante's side

No more rebukes, but smiles her words of praise. And then the organ sounds, and unseen choirs

Sing the old Latin hymns of peace and love,

And benedictions of the Holy Ghost ; And the melodious bells


the spires O’er all the house-tops and through heaven above Proclaim the elevation of the Host !

O STAR of morning and of liberty !

O bringer of the light whose splendour shines
Above the darkness of the Apennines,

Forerunner of the day that is to be !
The voices of the city and the sea,

The voices of the mountains and the pines,
Repeat thy song, till the familiar lines

Are footpaths for the thought of Italy !
Thy fame is blown abroad from all the heights,

Through all the nations, and a sound is heard,

As of a mighty wind, and men devout, Strangers of Rome, and the new proselytes,

In their own language hear thy wondrous word, And many are amazed and many doubt.




L'Académie en respect,
Nonobstant l'incorrection,
À la faveur du sujet,

N'y fera point de rature;
Noël ! ture-lure-lure.


QUAND les astres de Noël
Brillaient, palpitaient au ciel,
Six gaillards, et chacun ivre,
Chantaient gaîment dans le givre,

* Bons amis
Allons donc chez Agassiz !"
Ces illustres Pèlerins
D’Outre-Mer adroits et fins,
Se donnant des airs de prêtre,
À l'envi se vantaient d'être

• Bons amis
De Jean Rudolphe Agassiz !"
(Eil-de-Perdrix, grand farceur,
Sans reproche et sans pudeur,
Dans son patois de Bourgogne,
Bredouillait comme un ivrogne,

“ Bons amis,
J'ai dansé chez Agassiz !"
Verzenay le Champenois,
Bon Français, point New-Yorquois,
Mais des environs d'Avize,
Fredonne à mainte reprise,
J'ai chanté chez Agassiz !"
À côté marchait un vieux
Hidalgo, mais non mousse!!x ;

ns le temps de Charlemagne
Tut son père Grand d'Espagne !

" Bons amis J'ai diné chez Agacsic!"

- Bons amis,


Derrière eux un Bordelais,
Gascon, s'il en fut jamais,
Parfumé de poésie
Riait, chantait, plein de vie,

“ Bons amis,
J'ai soupé chez Agassiz !"
Avec ce beau cadet roux,
Bras dessus et bras dessous,
Mine altière et couleur terne,
Vint le Sire de Sauterne ;

“ Bons amis,
J'ai couché chez Agassiz !"
Mais le dernier de ces preux,
Était un pauvre Chartreux,
Qui disait, d'un ton robuste,
“ Bénédictions sur le Juste !

Bons amis,
Bénissons Père Agassiz !"
Ils arrivent trois à trois,
Montent l'escalier de bois
Clopin-clopant ! quel gendarme
Peut permettre ce vacarme,

Bons amis,
À la porte d'Agassiz !
“Ouvrez donc, mon bon Seigneur,
Ouvrez vite et n'ayez peur;
Ouvrez, ouvrez, car nous sommes
Gens de bien et gentilshommes,

Bons amis
De la famille Agassiz!".
Chut, ganaches ! taisez-vous !
C'en est trop de vos glouglous ;
Épargnez aux Philosophes
Vos abominables strophes !

Bons amis,
Respectez mon Agassiz !

New England Tragedies.


TO-NIGHT We strive to read, as we may best,
This city, like an ancient palimpsest;
And bring to light, upon the blotted page,
The mournful record of an earlier age,
That pale, and half-effaced, lies hidden away
Beneath the fresher writing of to-day.

Rise, then, O buried city that has been;
Rise up, rebuilded in the painted scene,
And let our curious eyes behold once more
The pointed gable and the pent-house door,
The Meeting-house with leaden-latticed panes,
The narrow thoroughfares, the crooked lanes

Rise, too, ye shapes and shadows of the Past,
Rise from your long-forgotten graves at last;
Let us behold your faces, let us hear
The words ye uttered in those days of fear!
Revisit your familiar haunts again,-
The scenes of triumph, and the scenes of pain,
And leave the footprints of your bleeding feet
Once more upon the pavement of the street !

Nor let the Historian blame the Poet here,
If he perchance misdate the day or year,
And group events together, by his art,
That in the Chronicles lie far apart;
For as the double-stars, though sundered far,
Seem to the naked eye a single star,
So facts of history, at a distance seen,
Into one common point of light convene.
"Why touch upon such themes ? " perhaps some friend
May ask, incredulous; "and to what good end ?
Why drag again into the light of day
The errors of an age long passed away?"
I answer: “For the lesson that they teach;
The tolerance of opinion and of speech.
Hope, Faith, and Charity remain,-these three ;
And greatest of them all is Charity."

Let us remember, if these words be true,
That unto all men Charity is due;
Give what we ask; and pity, while we blame,
Lest we become copartners in the shame,
Lest we condemn, and yet ourselves partake,
And persecute the dead for conscience' sake.

Therefore it is the author seeks and strives
To represent the dead as in their lives,
And lets at times his characters unfold
Their thoughts in their own language, strong and bold;
He only asks of you to do the like;
To hear him first, and, if you will, then strike.




Deputy Governor. JOHN NORTON

Minister of the Gospel, IDWARD BUTTER



An old man. SAMUEL COLE

Landlord of The Three Mariners. SIMON KEMPTHORN

EDITI, his daughter


Assistants, Halderdiers, Marshal, &c.
The Scene is in Boston in the year 1665.

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ACT I. SCENE I. Sunday afternoon. The interior of the Meeting-house.

On the pulpit, an hour-glass ; below, a box for contributions. John NORTON in the pulpit. GOVERNOR ENDICOTT in a canopied seat, attended by four halberdiers. The congregation singing.

The Lord descended from above,

And bowed the heavens high;
And underneath his feet he cast

The darkness of the sky.
On Cherubim and Seraphim

Right royally he rode,
And on the wings of mighty winds

Came flying all abroad.
Norton (rising and turning the hour-glass on thc pulpit).
I heard a great voice from the temple saying
Unto the Seven Angels, Go your ways;
Pour out the vials of the wrath of God
Upon the earth. And the First Angel went
And poured his vial on the earth; and straight

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