III. 31 Against myself your part I take: “I was of those whose spring is fair; Whom men but love in hope, and wake To find (youth flown) the worse for wear: ’Gainst the defaulter judgment goes: I lived on trust, and they foreclose.” IV. And many times I say: “They feel In me the faults they spare to name; Nor flies unjust the barbèd steel, Though loosened with a random aim.” Officious zeal! for them I plead Who neither seek such aid, nor need. V. Give up thy summer wealth at last, Sad tree; and praise the frost that bares Thy boughs, ere comes that wintry blast Which fells the grove that autumn spares. There where thou lov’st thou liv’st! Bequeath, Except thy bones, no spoils to death! VI. To others sovereign Faith exalts Her voice from temple and from shrine: For me she rears from funeral vaults A cross that bleeds with drops divine; And Hope--above a tombstone--lifts Her latest, yet her best of gifts. AUBREY DE VERE. ---------- THE LIQUEFACTION OF THE BLOOD OF ST. JANUARIUS. 32 NO. II.