The Ballad of King Herod's Daughter.

IN Jewry, God's first chosen land,
King Herod ruled and held command
By Roman Cæsar's grace;

Full fierce he was, a haughty wight,
And of his hands a man of might,
As fitted Edom's race.

Now on a day within his hall
King Herod held high festival,

With many a knight and peer,
Because his birthday was to keep;
The laugh was loud, the draughts were deep,
Right royal was their cheer.

With ivy-wreaths each brow was bound,
And thick and fast the healths went round
As madder grew their mirth;
The rough red wine loosed every tongue,
And loud King Herod's praise was sung,
They hailed him god on earth.

Then, as the daylight waned apace,
There came a goodly band in place
Of maidens and of youth,

Who claimed the king as sire and lord,
And came in duteous accord

To vow their love and truth.

And one brought vestiture of Ind,

And one brought carkanets to bind

The brows, and one brought myrrh ;
And this brought frankincense and spice,
And that one robes of quaint device,
Gold, sendal, pall, and fur.

And last of all a little maid

Knelt trembling down, as half afraid,
Before the daïs place—

Fair Mariamne's youngest child;
And Herod's brow grew smooth and mild
For gazing on that face.

She bore a cloth of samite red,
Close wrapped, which being opened,
She laid before the king

A wonder crown-no gems adorn
Its rim, but rays of sharpest thorn
Make up the royal ring.