"It was a calm and silent night!-- Seven hundred years and fifty-three Had Rome been growing up to might, And now was queen of land and sea! No sound was heard of clashing wars,-- Peace brooded o'er the hushed domain; Apollo, Pallas, Jove, and Mars Held undisturbed their ancient reign In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago!" What an eternity it seemed since I started with those children singing carols. Bethlehem, Nazareth, Calvary, Rome, Roman senators, Tiberius, Paul, Nero, Clement, Ephrem, Ambrose, and all the singers,--Vincent de Paul, and all the loving wonder-workers, Milton and Herbert and all the carol-writers, Luther and Knox and all the prophets,--what a world of people had been keeping Christmas with Sam Perry and Lycidas and Harry and me; and here were Yokohama and the Japanese, the Daily Argus and its ten million tokens and their readers,--poor Fanny Woodhull and her sick mother there, keeping Christmas too! For a finite world, these are a good many "waits" to be singing in one poor fellow's ears on one Christmas tide. "'Twas in the calm and silent night!-- The senator of haughty Rome, Impatient urged his chariot's flight, From lordly revel, rolling home. Triumphal arches gleaming swell His breast, with thoughts of boundless sway. What recked the _Roman_ what befell A paltry province far away, In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago! "Within that province far away Went plodding home a weary boor; A streak of light before him lay, Fallen through a half-shut stable door Across his path. He passed,--for naught Told _what was going on within_; How keen the stars, his only thought, The air how calm and cold and thin, In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago!"