And will not, then, the immortal armies scorn The world’s poor, routed leavings? or will they Who failed under the heat of this life’s day Support the fervors of the heavenly morn? No, no! the energy of life may be Kept on after the grave, but not begun; And he who flagged not in the earthly strife, From strength to strength advancing,--only he, His soul well-knit, and all his battles won, Mounts, and that hardly, to eternal life. _THE GOOD SHEPHERD WITH THE KID._ _He saves the sheep, the goats he doth not save._ So rang Tertullian’s sentence, on the side Of that unpitying Phrygian sect which cried,[10] “Him can no fount of fresh forgiveness lave, Who sins, once washed by the baptismal wave.” So spake the fierce Tertullian. But she sighed, The infant Church! of love she felt the tide Stream on her from her Lord’s yet recent grave. And then she smiled; and in the Catacombs, With eye suffused but heart inspired true, On those walls subterranean, where she hid Her head ’mid ignominy, death, and tombs, She her Good Shepherd’s hasty image drew-- And on his shoulders, not a lamb, a kid. _MONICA’S LAST PRAYER._[11] “Ah! could thy grave at home, at Carthage, be!” _Care not for that, and lay me where I fall! Everywhere heard will be the judgment-call; But at God’s altar, oh! remember me._ Thus Monica, and died in Italy. Yet fervent had her longing been, through all Her course, for home at last, and burial With her own husband, by the Libyan sea. Had been! but at the end, to her pure soul All tie with all beside seemed vain and cheap, And union before God the only care. Creeds pass, rites change, no altar standeth whole. Yet we her memory, as she prayed, will keep, Keep by this: _Life in God, and union there!_ LYRIC AND DRAMATIC POEMS. _SWITZERLAND._ I. MEETING. Again I see my bliss at hand, The town, the lake, are here; My Marguerite smiles upon the strand,[12] Unaltered with the year. I know that graceful figure fair, That cheek of languid hue; I know that soft, enkerchiefed hair, And those sweet eyes of blue. Again I spring to make my choice; Again in tones of ire I hear a God’s tremendous voice,-- “Be counselled, and retire.” Ye guiding Powers who join and part, What would ye have with me? Ah, warn some more ambitious heart, And let the peaceful be! II. PARTING.