To welcome thee, Birth Divine,
To the earth which is henceforth thine.

II

Behold! how she kneels in the shell,
Bright pearl in its floating cell!
Behold! how the shell's rose-hues,
The cheek and the breast of snow,
And the delicate limbs suffuse,
Like a blush, with a bashful glow.
Sailing on, slowly sailing
O'er the wild water;
All hail! as the fond light is hailing
Her daughter,
All hail!
We are thine, all thine evermore:
Not a leaf on the laughing shore,
Not a wave on the heaving sea,
Nor a single sigh
In the boundless sky,
But is vow'd evermore to thee!

III

And thou, my beloved one--thou,
As I gaze on thy soft eyes now,
Methinks from their depths I view
The Holy Birth born anew;
Thy lids are the gentle cell
Where the young Love blushing lies;
See! she breaks from the mystic shell,
She comes from thy tender eyes!
Hail! all hail!
She comes, as she came from the sea,
To my soul as it looks on thee;
She comes, she comes!
She comes, as she came from the sea,
To my soul as it looks on thee!
Hail! all hail!

Chapter III

THE CONGREGATION.

FOLLOWED by Apaecides, the Nazarene gained the side of the Sarnus--that
river, which now has shrunk into a petty stream, then rushed gaily into
the sea, covered with countless vessels, and reflecting on its waves the
gardens, the vines, the palaces, and the temples of Pompeii. From its
more noisy and frequented banks, Olinthus directed his steps to a path
which ran amidst a shady vista of trees, at the distance of a few paces
from the river. This walk was in the evening a favorite resort of the
Pompeians, but during the heat and business of the day was seldom
visited, save by some groups of playful children, some meditative poet,
or some disputative philosophers. At the side farthest from the river,
frequent copses of box interspersed the more delicate and evanescent
foliage, and these were cut into a thousand quaint shapes, sometimes
into the forms of fauns and satyrs, sometimes into the mimicry of
Egyptian pyramids, sometimes into the letter