C horo sancto nunciatus, H omo, Deus Increatus, R egum, Rex, Puellâ natus, I n ignaris habitat; S umit vilem carnis vestem, T radens Gloriam Cœlestem U t dispellat culpæ pestem, S atanamque subigat. II. S urgit Stella prophetarum, A dest Victor tenebrarum, L umen omnium terrarum, V ia, Vita, Veritas. A nimas illuminavit, T enebrarum vim fugavit, O ras Cœlicas monstravit R edemptoris Claritas. CHRISTMAS, 1864. DEW. “Who hath begotten the drops of dew?”--JOB xxxviii, 28. I. Who hath begotten the drops of dew? Tell, if you can, the tale of their birth; Have the stars from Heaven come down to woo The flowers, the beautiful daughters of earth? II. Who hath begotten the drops of dew? Have angels open’d the pearly doors, And, leaving their streets of golden hue, Blest with their footsteps our grassy floors? III. Who hath begotten the drops of dew? Doth not each orb in its bosom bear Ruby and topaz and sapphire blue, And all the colours that angels wear? IV. Who hath begotten the drops of dew? Are they the tears of the saints above, Returned to visit the scenes they knew, And to weep and pray for some earthly love? V. Who hath begotten the drops of dew? Who, the good that in all things lies? Who, the primal beauty that grew Into myriad forms in Paradise? VI. Who hath begotten the drops of dew? Tell, if you can, the tale of their birth; Are they not, children of men, with you, Sons of the Lord of _Heaven_ and _Earth_? THALATTA! THALATTA! I. In my ear is the moan of the pines--in my heart is the song of the sea, And I feel his salt breath on my face as he showers his kisses on me, And I hear the wild scream of the gulls, as they answer the call of the tide, And I watch the fair sails as they glisten like gems on the breast of a bride. II. From the rock where I stand to the sun is a pathway of sapphire and gold, Like a waif of those Patmian visions that wrapt the lone seer of old, And it seems to my soul like an omen that calls me far over the sea-- But I think of a little white cottage and one that is dearest to me. III. Westward ho! Far away to the East is a cottage that looks to the shore-- Though each drop in the sea were a tear, as it was, I can see it no more; For the heart of its pride with the flowers of the “Vale of the Shadow” reclines, And--hushed is the song of the sea and hoarse is the moan of the pines. RIZPAH. (2 SAMUEL xxi. 10.)