Volume 3 — THE CHRISTIAN CROWN. BY JOHN SAVAGE.

I. Ten centuries and one had trod Jerusalem, since when, In mortal form, the Son of God Died for the sons of men. II. And they who in the Martyr found Their Saviour, wailed and wept, That gorgeous horrors should abound Where Christ the Blessèd slept. III. From clam'rous towns, and forests' hush. As cascades from the gloom Of caves, crusaders eastward rush To win the holy tomb. IV. Their corselets, steel and silver bright, 'Neath swaying plumes displayed, Now dance, like streams, in lines of light. Now loiter on in shade. {737} V. Their crosses glow in every form Inspiring vale and mart, As through earth's arteries they swarm, Like blood back to the heart. VI. Tis mid-day of midsummer's heat; Faith crowns the live and dead: Jerusalem is at their feet. Brave Godfrey at their head. VII. Within the walls, the ramparts ring As proudly they proclaim Great Godfrey de Bouillon as king! A king in more than name. VIII. The ruby-budding crown to bind About his head, they stood: Another crown is in his mind; For rubies, blobs of blood. IX. "No. no!" and back the bauble flings, "No gold this brow adorns Where willed He, Christ, the King of kings, To wear a crown of thorns." X. Let not the glorious truth depart Brave Godfrey handed down: A king whose crown is in his heart, Needs wear no other crown.