was born, that is full well adorned with Marble, and full richly painted with Gold, Silver, Azure and other Colors. And 3 Paces beyond is the Crib of the Ox and the Ass. And beside that is the Place where the Star fell, that led the 3 Kings, Jasper, Melchior and Balthazar (but Men of Greece call them thus, "Galgalathe, Malgalathe, and Seraphie," and the Jews call them in this manner, in Hebrew, " Appelius, Amerrius, and Damasus "). These 3 Kings offered to our Lord, Gold, Incense and Myrrh, and they met together through Miracle of God; for they met together in a City in Ind, that Men call Cassak, that is a 53 Days' Journey from Bethlehem; and they were at Bethlehem the 13th Day; and that was the 4th Day after that they had seen the Star, when they met in that City, and thus they were in 9 days from that City at Bethlehem, and that was a great Miracle.

Also, under the Cloister of the Church, by 18 Steps at the right Side, is the Charnel-house of the Innocents, where their Bodies lie. And before the Place where our Lord was born is the Tomb of St. Jerome, that was a Priest and a Cardinal, that translated the Bible and the Psalter from Hebrew into Latin: and without the Minster is the Chair that he sat in when he translated it. And fast beside that Church, at 60 Fathom, is a Church of St. Nicholas, where our Lady rested after she was delivered of our Lord; and forasmuch as she had too much Milk in her Paps, that grieved her, she milked them on the red Stones of Marble, so that the Traces may yet be seen, in the Stones, all white.

And ye shall understand, that all that dwell in Bethlehem be Christian Men.

And there be fair Vines about the City, and great plenty of Wine, that the Christian Men have made. But the Saracens till not the Vines, neither drink they any Wine: for their Books of their Law, that Mohammet gave them, which they call their "Al Koran" (and some call it "Mesaph," and in another language it is clept" Harme,")- the same Book forbiddeth them to drink. Wine. For in that Book, Mohammet cursed all those that drink Wine and all them that sell it: for some Men say, that he slew once an Hermit in his Drunkenness, that he loved full well; and therefore he cursed Wine and them that drink it. But his Curse be turned onto his own Head, as Holy Writ saith," Et in verticem ipsius iniquitas ejus descendet;" that is to say, "His Wickedness shall turn and fall onto his own Head."

And also the Saracens breed no Pigs, nor eat they any Swine's Flesh, for they say it is Brother to Man, and it was for bidden by the old Law; and they hold him accursed that eateth thereof. Also in the Land of Palestine and in the land of Egypt, they eat but little or none of Flesh of Veal or of Beef, but if the Beast be so old, that he may no more work for old Age; for it is forbidden, because they have but few of them; therefore they nourish them to till their Lands.

In this City of Bethlehem was David the King born; and he had 60 Wives, and the first wife was called Michal; and also he had 300 Lemans.

And from Bethlehem unto Jerusalem is but 2 Mile; and in the Way to Jerusalem half a Mile from Bethlehem is a Church, where the Angel said to the Shepherds of the Birth of Christ. And in that Way is the Tomb of Rachel, that was the Mother of Joseph the Patriarch; and she died anon after that she was delivered of her Son Benjamin. And there she was buried by Jacob her Husband; and he made set 12 great Stones on her, in Token that she had born 12 Children. In the same Way, half a Mile from Jerusalem, appeared the Star to the 3 Kings. In that Way also be many Churches of Christian Men, by the which Men go towards the City of Jerusalem.

7695

JAMES CLARENCE MANGAN.

MANGAN, JAMES CLARENCE, an Irish poet; born at Dublin, May 1, 1803; died there, June 20, 1849. At fifteen he obtained a situation in a scrivener's office, which he held seven years, when he became a solicitor's clerk. He was for a time employed in the library of the Dublin University and acquired great learning. In his later years he fell into a state of extreme destitution, and died in a public hospital. He attained great proficiency in modern languages, and a volume of his translations from the German was issued in 1845, under the title "Anthologia Germanica." His most famous poem is "Dark Rosaleen," a musical and mystic celebration of the charms and wrongs of Ireland. An edition of his "Poems" was published in New York in 1859, edited by John Mitchel, and a volume of "Selections," edited by Louise Imogen Guiney in 1897, and a "Life" by D. J. O'Donoghue in Edinburgh (1897).

THE NAMELESS ONE.

ROLL forth, my song, like the rushing river
That sweeps along to the mighty sea;

God will inspire me while I deliver

My soul of thee!

Tell thou the world, when my bones lie whitening
Amid the last homes of youth and eld,

That there was once one whose veins ran lightning
No eye beheld.

Tell how his boyhood was one drear night hour;
How shone for him, through his griefs and gloom,
No star of all heaven sends to light our

Path to the tomb.

Roll on, my song, and to after ages

Tell how, disdaining all earth can give,

He would have taught men, from wisdom's pages,
The way to live.

And tell how, trampled, derided, hated,
And worn by weakness, disease, and wrong,
He fled for shelter to God, who mated
His soul with song-

With song which alway, sublime or vapid,
Flowed like a rill in the morning beam,
Perchance not deep, but intense and rapid-
A mountain stream.

Tell how this Nameless, condemned for years long
To herd with demons from hell beneath,
Saw things that made him, with groans and tears, long
For even death.

Go on to tell how, with genius wasted,
Betrayed in friendship, befooled in love,
With spirit shipwrecked, and young hopes blasted,
He still, still strove,

Till, spent with toil, dreeing death for others,

And some whose hands should have wrought for him, (If children live not for sires and mothers),

His mind grew dim.

And he fell far through that pit abysmal,
The gulf and grave of Maginn and Burns,
And pawned his acul for the devil's dismal
Stock of returns.

But yet redeemed it in days of darkness,
And shapes and signs of the final wrath,
When death, in hideous and ghastly starkness,
Stood on his path.

And tell how now, amid wreck and sorrow,
And want, and sickness, and houseless nights,
He bides in calmness the silent morrow,

That no ray lights.

And lives he still, then? Yes: old and hoary
At thirty-nine, from despair and woe,

He lives, enduring what future story

Will never know.

Him grant a grave too, ye pitying noble,

Deep in your bosoms! There let him dwell! He too had tears for all souls in trouble Here and in hell.

ST. PATRICK'S HYMN BEFORE TARAH.

AT Tarah to-day, in this awful hour,
I call on the holy Trinity:

Glory to him who reigneth in power,

The God of the elements, Father and Son
And Paraclete Spirit, which Three are the One,
The ever-existing Divinity!

At Tarah to-day I call on the Lord,
On Christ, the omnipotent Word,
Who came to redeem from death and sin
Our fallen race;

And I put and I place

The virtue that lieth and liveth in
His incarnation lowly,

His baptism pure and holy,

His life of toil and tears and affliction,
His dolorous death his crucifixion,
His burial, sacred and sad and lone,

His resurrection to life again,

His glorious ascension to Heaven's high throne, And, lastly, his future dread

And terrible coming to judge all men

Both the living and dead.

At Tarah to-day I put and I place

The virtue that dwells in the seraphim's love,

And the virtue and grace

That are in the obedience

And unshaken allegiance

Of all the archangels and angels above,

And in the hope of the resurrection
To everlasting reward and election,
And in the prayers of the fathers of old,
And in the truths the prophets foretold,
And in the Apostles' manifold preachings,
And in the confessors' faith and teachings;