6 In a great city of the far-off East,

There was, 'mongst Christian folk, a Jewerie, By native lord upheld, for gain unblest,

Of filthy lucre and vile usurie,

Hateful to Christ and to his companie.

Free was this street, that Christian, Turk, or Jew,
As by an open gate might journey through.

7 Down at the further end of which there stood,
Of Christian men, a little modest school,
Where crowds of children, come of Christian blood,
Did, year by year, acquire their simple rule
Of childish lore, from Candlemas to Yule,
Content t' attain the lesson and the song,
And what small wit doth to small age belong.
8 Among these children was a widow's son,

A little clerkling of some seven years old;
Than whom more frequent at the school was none;
Or Jesu's mother's image to behold

(As he had been her worshipper enroll'd),
More lowly knelt, or piously did say—
Ave Marie! as he went his way.

9 Her little son this widow taught to yearn,
As to his mother, to Christ's mother dear-
(O artless childhood! ever quick to learn)
Our blessed lady; and this lesson ne'er
Did he forget: nor, ay, can I forbear,

When the remembrance o'er my mind doth pass, To think, in this young clerk I see Saint Nicholas. 10 This little child, while at his wonted seat

Conning his primer, often heard the song
Of anthem-boys; and as they did repeat
O Alma Redemptoris! deep and long,
Listed and nearer drew this scholar young,
And pondered on each word and tuneful note,
Until the first verse he had learned by rote.
11 Now nothing knew he what these words should say--
Small latin serveth for a child so young;
But soon his fellow he did beg and pray

This song to teach him in his mother tongue,
And tell him why it was this hymn was sung.
Thus bare-knee'd oft the singing-boy he pray'd,
It to construe, and say for whom 'twas made.
12 His fellow, then, who was his elder, too,

Thus answer'd him: This song, so clerks relate,
(As to our bounteous, blessed lady due)
Was made her to salute and impetrate

For help in death, which cometh soon or late:

And of this matter I can say no more;
Song is my trade, and small my grammar lore.'

13 And is this holy chaunt in reverence

Of Jesu's mother?' ask'd this innocent ;

Now, certes, will I spur my diligence,

To con it all, ere Christmas tide be spent,
Though slighted lesson bring sure chastisement:
Even though I beaten be thrice in an hour,
To win our lady's grace I'll do my power.'
14 Now privily at home his fellow wrought,

From day to day, to teach it him by rote:
Then boldly sang he what he had been taught,
To each blest word according each sweet note.
Twice every day it warbled through his throat,
As he, or to the school, or homeward went
On Mary-mother, still fixed his intent.
15 This little child, throughout the Jewerie
Passing, as I have said, did send before
His young shrill voice, singing full merrilìe-
O Alma Redemptoris ! ever more!

Her sweetness, who our blessed Saviour bore,
Hath touch'd his young heart, that he her doth pray
With ungrudg'd song where'er he wends his way.

16 Upstarteth then the serpent Sathanas,

Who in a Jew's heart buildeth his wasps'-nest-
Our ancient foe, and crieth out-'Alas!

Ye Hebrew people, is it fit ye rest

While such a boy go'th singing, east and west,
Whate'er he list of foul despiteful sense
Against our laws and their just reverence?'

17 From this time forth the Jews 'gan to conspire
Out of this world to chase this innocent;
To compass which those cruel men did hire
A homicide to do their base intent,

Who seized on him as by that place he went:
This cursed Jew across his throat then past
His murderous knife, and in a pit him cast.
18 I say the Jews him in a foul place threw,
Which they for vilest purposes did use.
The old ye have surpast, O Herods new!
Yet from your act what good to you accrues?
Murder will out: full surely you t' accuse

This blood outcrieth on your guilty head

For vengeance, which to God's great praise shall spread. 19 Now singing mayst thou go, young martyr, wed In death (thus early) to virginity, Following the white celestial (Lamb) she said, Which 'rapt St. John in Patmos' isle did see, And wrote how these with a new minstrelsy, That 'companied the Lamb, did joying go, That woman ne'er they did as woman know.

20 Now waited that poor widow all the night
Her little son-and waited all for nought;
For when, as soon as broke the morning light,

With face bleach'd pale with dread and busy thought,
At school and elsewhere she full anxious sought-
Till, finally, she traced out that he

Had last been seen adown the Jewerie.

21 With mother's pity in her sorrowing breast,
She wanders forth, like one half out of mind,
With grief and hope distract, in eager quest
Where she her little son may likeliest find:
And ever on Christ's mother meek and kind
She cried, until her steps are guided well
To where the accursed Hebrew people dwell.
22 Now beggeth she, and piteously doth pray

Of every Jew that dwelleth in that place,
To tell her if her child went forth that way;
Which all deny: but Jesu, of his grace,

Gave her the thought, within a little space,
To cry after her son, as by she past

The filthy pit wherein they had him cast.

23 Great God! who choosest to show forth thy praise
By mouth of innocents, lo! here thy might!
This emerald-this gem of heavenly rays—
Fair Chastity, and eke the ruby bright,
Of martyrdom-with sever'd throat, upright,
So loudly Alma Redemptoris! sang,

That all the Jewerie with his shrill notes rang. 24 Now whate'er Christian folk past by, in went

To see, and marvel at that wond'rous thing;
And hastily they for the Provost sent,

Who came right quickly with small tarrying,
And lauded Christ, who is of heaven King,
With his pure mother, honour of mankind;
And after bade he these false Jews to bind.
25 With sad lament, out of his hallow'd gore,

This little child, that never ceased his song,
They raised, and to a neighbouring abbey bore
In full procession, following him along.

Beside the bier his mother swoon'd, and long
The people vainly to remove her try;
Still this new Rachel near his bier will lie.

26 With torment and with shameful death, each one
Of these curst Jews the Provost doomed to die,
Who of this murder kenn'd, and sparèd none-
For wickedness so vile might none pass by:
Evil shall pay who doeth evilly:-
Wherefore he bade them with wild horses draw,
And after that he hanged them by the law.

27 Upon his bier lies this young innocent,

Before the altar, while they masses say:
And while, with all his train, the abbot bent
To bury him, doth make what speed he may;
And when he sprinkled was, did cry alway,
Aneath the blessed drops of holy water,
Singing, O Alma Redemptoris Mater!
28 The abbot then, who was a holy man,
As monks are ever, or should ever be,
With sweet words to entreat the child began;
Saying, 'O dear child, I do conjure thee,
By virtue of the Holy Trinity,

To tell me how and why thou thus dost sing,
Since that thy throat is cut to my seeming ?'
29 My throat is cut, indeed, to the neck-bone,
And, following nature in her usual kind,
Certes, I had been dead long time agone,
But Jesus Christ, as ye in books do find,
Would have his glory ever kept in mind:
And for the worship of his mother dear,
Yet may I sing, O Alma! loud and clear.
30 This well of mercy I did ever love,

6

As far as doth to my weak age belong;
Which, when my forfeit life did sadly prove,
She bade me truly sing this most sweet song,
With dying throat in words full clear and strong—
(As ye have heard) which, when that I had sung,
Methought she laid a grain upon my tongue.

31 Wherefore I sing, nor may my song refrain,
To exalt this blissful maiden's dignity,

Till from my tongue is taken off the grain ;
Which, after she had put, she said to me,
'My little child, I then will come for thee,
When they this grain out of thy mouth shall take-
Be not aghast! I will not thee forsake.''

32 This holy monk, the abbot, him mean I,

His tongue outcaught, and took away the grain,
And he gave up the ghost full tenderly :

Which marvel when the abbot saw, amain
His salt tears trickled down, like summer rain :
And then he fell all flat upon the ground-
And still he lay, as though he had been bound.

33 The convent, too, upon the abbey-floor

All weeping lay, praising Christ's mother dear:
Then, rising up, out of the church they bore
The little martyr from his bloody bier,

And in a tomb of marble, smooth and clear,
Enclosed they his little body sweet:

There is it now: God grant his soul we meet.

34 Young Hugh of Lincoln, who wast slain also
Of cruel Jews, to Christ all implacable,
(As is well known, being not long ago,)

Pray, too, for us, poor sinful souls unstable,
That of his mercy, God, so merciable,
On us his greater mercy do dispense,
To do his mother, Mary, reverence.

LEGAL FICTIONS:

J. A. G.

BEING A MODEST APOLOGY FOR A REVIEW OF

"State Trials.

SPECIMEN OF A NEW EDITION

BY NICHOLAS THIRNING MOILE, Esq.,

Of the Inner Temple, Special Pleader."*

We

We are desirous of giving especial prominence to this book, not only on account of its excellence, which is very great-indeed, extraordinary-but because of the unexpected corroboration it gives, especially and expressly in the Preface, to the views we ventured last month in our article on Prayers for the Dead. spake there of fictions, religious, legal and mathematical-being philosophical assumptions, which no rational mind can omit at the head of an argument, and as the principles which must be taken for granted throughout. Such, we added, are all the Definitions, Postulates, and Axioms of Mathematics,-things which must be conceded at once and for ever by the mathematician;-of this kind, we said, are the so-called fictions of Law-and of such kind are those of Religion. No science can be constructed without them; and it is by their means that philosophy connects itself so beautifully as it does with Poetry.

Mr. Nicholas Thirning Moile, having determined to versify the State Trials of Anne Ayliffe for Heresy, of Sir William Stanley for High Treason, and of Mary Queen of Scots (for?), thinks fit, in his Preface, to defend his design and performance on the very ground taken up by ourselves.

The relics of the Twelve Tables taught to the youth of Rome, show the coincidence of jurisprudence both with verse and rhyme,

e. g.

"Si in jus vocat, atque eat; ni it, antestamino: igitur eum capito.
Si calvitur, pedemve struit, manum endo jacito."-Tabula I.

"Uni plura funera ne facito; neve plures lectos sternito: neve aurum a Dito."

But, adds Mr. Moile,

Tabula X.

"Neither in this, nor in any other respect, can the civil law claim superiority to our own. Many of our ancient, and not a few modern, and even some living, writers in the profession have sufficiently shown, that their own genius, as well as their subject, possessed all other qualities of poetry in so eminent a degree, that the absence of verse has not concealed them from the closer observation of a kindred mind. What, for instance, can be more reverend or majestical, than Sir Edward London: Simpkin, Marshall, & Co., 1838.

N. S.-VOL. I.

D D