Shame-shame to man

That he should trust so easily the tongue

That stabs another's fame! the ill report

Was heard, repeated, and believed, and soon,
For Hamuel by most damned artifice

Produced such semblances of guilt, the Maid

Was judged to shameful death.

Without the walls

There was a barren field; a place abhorr'd,

For it was there where wretched criminals

Were done to die; and there they built the stake,
And piled the fuel round, that should consume
The accused Maid, abandon'd, as it seem'd,
By God and man. The assembled Bethlemites
Beheld the scene, and when they saw the Maid
Bound to the stake, with what calm holiness
She lifted up her patient looks to Heaven,

They doubted of her guilt. With other thoughts
Stood Hamuel near the pile, him savage joy

Led thitherward, but now within his heart

Unwonted feelings stirr'd, and the first pangs
Of wakening guilt, anticipating Hell.

The eye of Zillah as it glanced around

Fell on the murderer once, but not in wrath;
And therefore like a dagger it had fallen,

Had struck into his soul a cureless wound.

Conscience! thou God within us! not in the hour
Of triumph, dost thou spare the guilty wretch,
Not in the hour of infamy and death

Forsake the virtuous! they draw near the stake-
And lo! the torch! hold hold your erring hands!

Yet quench the rising flames !-they rise! they spread!
They reach the suffering Maid! oh God protect

The innocent one!

They rose, they spread, they raged→

The breath of God went forth; the ascending fire
Beneath its influence bent, and all its flames

In one long lightning flash collecting fierce,
Darted and blasted Hamuel-him alone.

Hark-what a fearful scream the multitude

Pour forth!-and yet more miracles! the stake

Buds out, and spreads its light green leaves and bowers

The innocent Maid, and roses bloom around,

Now first beheld since Paradise was lost,

And fill with Eden odours all the air.

The COMPLAINTS of the POOR.

And wherefore do the Poor complain?

The rich man asked of me,

Come walk abroad with me, I said

And I will answer thee.

'Twas evening and the frozen streets

Were cheerless to behold,

And we were wrapt and coated well,
And yet we were a-cold.

We met an old bare-headed man,
His locks were few and white,
I ask'd him what he did abroad
In that cold winter's night:

F

"Twas bitter keen indeed, he said,

But at home no fire had he,

And therefore he had come abroad

To ask for charity.

We met a young bare-footed child, And she begg'd loud and bold,

I ask'd her what she did abroad

When the wind it blew so cold;

She said her father was at home

And he lay sick a-bed,

And therefore was it she was sent

Abroad to beg for bread.

We saw a woman sitting down

Upon a stone to rest,

She had a baby at her back

And another at her breast;