Oh, strange indifference! low and high Drowsed over common joys and cares; The earth was still--but knew not why; The world was listening, unawares. How calm a moment may precede One that shall thrill the world forever! To that still moment none would heed, Man's doom was linked no more to sever-- In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago! It is the calm and solemn night! A thousand bells ring out, and throw Their joyous peals abroad, and smite The darkness--charmed and holy now! The night that erst no name had worn, To it a happy name is given; For in that stable lay new-born, The peaceful Prince of Earth and Heaven, In the solemn midnight, Centuries ago! ALFRED DOMETT. * * * * * TRYSTE NOËL. The Ox he openeth wide the Doore And from the Snowe he calls her inne, And he hath seen her smile therefore, Our Ladye without Sinne. Now soone from Sleepe A Starre shall leap, And soone arrive both King and Hinde; _Amen, Amen_: But oh, the place co'd I but finde! The Ox hath husht his voyce and bent Trewe eyes of Pitty ore the Mow, And on his lovelie Neck, forspent, The Blessed lays her Browe. Around her feet Full Warme and Sweete His bowerie Breath doth meeklie dwell; _Amen, Amen_: But sore am I with Vaine Travèl! The Ox is host in Juda's stall, And Host of more than onelie one. For close she gathereth withal Our Lorde her littel Sonne. Glad Hinde and King Their Gyfte may bring, But wo'd to-night my Teares were there, _Amen, Amen_: Between her Bosom and His hayre! LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY. * * * * * THE FLIGHT INTO EGYPT. A BALLAD. There's a legend that's told of a gypsy who dwelt In the lands where the pyramids be; And her robe was embroidered with stars, and her belt With devices right wondrous to see; And she lived in the days when our Lord was a child On his mother's immaculate breast; When he fled from his foes,--when to Egypt exiled, He went down with Saint Joseph the blest. This Egyptian held converse with magic, methinks, And the future was given to her gaze; For an obelisk marked her abode, and a sphinx On her threshold kept vigil always. She was pensive and ever alone, nor was seen In the haunts of the dissolute crowd; But communed with the ghosts of the Pharaohs, I ween, Or with visitors wrapped in a shroud. And there came an old man from the desert one day, With a maid on a mule by that road; And a child on her bosom reclined, and the way Let them straight to the gypsy's abode; And they seemed to have travelled a wearisome path, From thence many, many a league,-- From a tyrant's pursuit, from an enemy's wrath, Spent with toil and o'ercome with fatigue.