30.

Look not thou down, but up!

To uses of a cup,

The festal board, lamp's flash, and trumpet's peal,

The new wine's foaming flow,

The Master's lips aglow!

Thou, heaven's consummate cup, what needst thou with

Thee, God, who mouldest men ;

And since, not even while the whirl was worst,

Did I, to the wheel of life

With shapes and colors rife,

Bound dizzily, - mistake my end, to slake Thy thirst:

32.

So, take and use Thy work!

Amend what flaws may lurk,

What strain o' the stuff, what warpings past the aim!

My times be in Thy hand!

Perfect the cup as planned!

Let age approve of youth, and death complete the same!

Ꭺ Ꭰ Ꭼ Ꭺ Ꭲ Ꮋ IN THE Ꭰ Ꭼ Ꮪ Ꭼ Ꭱ Ꭲ .

A DEATH IN THE DESERT.

[SUPPOSED of Pamphylax the Antiochene :
It is a parchment, of my rolls the fifth,
Hath three skins glued together, is all Greek,
And goeth from Epsilon down to Mu:

Lies second in the surnamed Chosen Chest,
Stained and conserved with juice of terebinth,
Covered with cloth of hair, and lettered Xi,
From Xanthus, my wife's uncle, now at peace:
Mu and Epsilon stand for my own name,

I may not write it, but I make a cross
To show I wait His coming, with the rest,
And leave off here: beginneth Pamphylax.]

I said, "If one should wet his lips with wine,
And slip the broadest plantain-leaf we find,
Or else the lappet of a linen robe,
Into the water-vessel, lay it right,