Guide Thou aright his questing zeal, Teach him in Thy bright word Content Thy perfect love to feel, O Spirit of the Lord! INNOCENCE. We children shuddered when we heard Of many a pretty painted bird Held by the glittering eye Of cruel serpent, fold on fold, Close gliding, till with blood run cold The victim dropt to die. But we revived when friends would say How rustling leaf, or broken spray Might foil the poisonous snare, And how the bird, untranced and free, Shoots like a meteor from the tree Into the azure air. So innocence may be beguiled By sensual spirits masked and mild, And feigning pure delight; But dropt the mask,--on wings of prayer, O'er mists of earth and clouds of air She gains her holy height. HILARION. See at Hilarion's saintly sign The serpent mount the pyre, And all its scaly strength resign To the consuming fire. Such is the miracle of Grace Which on the pilgrim's way, Ordains that hell's malignant race Should work its own decay. Let but the faithful suppliant urge, God will His fire impart, The serpent coils of sin to purge From every willing heart. [Illustration] THE FOOLISH COLT. This discontented colt, full fed, Aweary of its pasture rich, Half dislocates its brainless head For nettles in the dusty ditch. Skills not the amplest range of joys, What we have not is our desire; This proved amid his golden toys The little prince who screamed for mire. TROUTS. With poising fins against the stream, Their heads the shadowy troutlings set, Though vain their patient instincts seem, For chilly April's mirrored gleam No fly disturbs as yet. And so against ill-fashion's tide, With faithful wills untaught to swerve, Though cold philosophy deride, The saints hold on and calmly bide His season whom they serve. THE PLATYPUS. A triple monster here is shown Which old Chimera mocks, Bird, fish, and quadruped in one, The duck-billed Paradox. Emblem of him whose every wish Concentres in a feast; Like duck he gobbles, drinks like fish, And proves himself a beast. [Illustration] THE RAPE OF PROSERPINE. Sweet Proserpine you here behold Far from her corn-crowned mother's care, Dragged down by Pluto, swart and old, His dismal throne to share. She figures many a one the prey Of passion's ill-resisted powers, Who, spurning all that love can say, Seeks but for earthly flowers. Ere these you gather, maiden mine, With faith's pure lilies wreathe your soul, Then fear not any art malign Shall work thee mortal dole. GIRLS RUNNING.