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Dank and foul, dank and foul,
By the smoky town in its murky cowl;

Foul and dank, foul and dank,
By wharf and sewer and slimy bank,
Darker and darker the further I go,
Baser and baser the richer I grow;

Who dare sport with the sin-defiled ?
Shrink from me, turn from me, mother and child.

Strong and free, strong and free,
The flood-gates are open, away to the sea;

Free and strong, free and strong,
Cleansing my streams as I hurry along
To the golden sands and the leaping bar,
And the taintless tide that awaits me afar;
As I lose myself in the infinite main
Like a soul that has sinned and is pardoned again.

Undefiled, for the undefiled;
Play by me, bathe in me, mother and child.

Chas. KINGSLEY.

60. LONDON RIVER.

All day long in the scorching weather,

All day long in the winter's gloom, Brother and sister stand together,

She with her flowers, and he with his broom.

And the folks go on over London river,

Poor and wealthy, busy and wise : Will nobody see those white lips quiver?

Will nobody stop for those pleading eyes?

The old bridge echoes the ceaseless thunder

Of crowds that gather and stream along,
And the stranger child shrinks back in wonder:

She cannot sing in that hurrying throng.

She thinks of her home across the ocean

With its deep blue sky and its vineyards green; But who will heed, in that wild commotion,

The pitiful sound of her tambourine?

Flow flow O London river!

Carry thy ships from the mighty town: Tears and smiles in thy heart for ever Tears and smiles as thou hurriest down.

F. E. WEATHERLY.

ENGLISH POETRY.

GERNUTUS THE JEW OF VENICE.

THE FIRST PART,

A new Song, shewing the crueltie of Gernutus a Jew, who lending to a Marchant a hundred Crownes, would have a pound of his Flesh, because he could not pay him at the day appoynted.

In Venice towne not long agoe

A cruel Jew did dwell,
Which lived all on usurie,

As Italian writers tell.

Gernutus called was the Jew,

Which never thought to die,
Nor ever yet did any good

To them in streets that lie.

His life was like a barrow hogge,

That liveth many a day,
Yet never once doth any good,

Until men will him slay.

So fares it with the usurer,

He cannot sleep in rest,
For feare the tbiefe will him pursue

To plucke him from his nest.
His heart doth thinke on many a wile,

How to deceive the poore;
His mouth is almost ful of mucke,

Yet still he gapes for more.
HOEKZEMA, Poetry. 4th Ed.

5

His wife must lend a shilling,

For every weeke a penny, Yet bring a pledge that is double worth,

If that you will have any.

And see, likewise, you keepe your day,

Or else you loose it all:
This was the living of the wife,

Her cow she did it call.

Within that citie dwelt that time

A marchant of great fame,
Which being distressed in his need,

Unto Gernutus came:

Desiring him to stand his friend

For twelve month and a day;
To lend to him an hundred crownes;

And he for it would pay

Whatsoever he would demand of him,

And pledges he should have: "No" (quoth the Jew with flearing lookes),

“Sir, aske what you will have. “No penny for the loane of it

For one year you shall pay;
You may doe me as good a turne,

Before my dying day.

“But we will have a merry jeast,

For to be talked long:
You shall make me a bond," quoth he,

“That shall be large and strong:

"And this shall be the forfeyture,

Of your owne fleshe a pound:
If you agree, make you the bond,

And here is a hundred crownes."

“With right good will!” the marchant says

And so the bond was made. When twelve month and a day drew on,

That backe it should be payd,

The marchants ships were all at sea,

And money came not in;
Which way to take, or what to doe

To thinke he doth begin.

And to Gernutus strait he comes,

With cap and bended knee; And sayde to him, “Of curtesie,

I pray you beare with mee.

“My day is come, and I have not

The money for to pay:
And little good the forfeyture

Will doe you, I dare say."

“With all my heart,” Gernutus sayd,

“Commaund it to your minde: In thinges of bigger waight then this

You shall me ready finde.”

He goes his way; the day once past,

Gernutus doth not slacke To get a sergiant presently,

And clapt him on the backe :

And layd him into prison strong,

And sued his bond withall;
And when the judgement day was come,

For judgement he did call.

The marchants friends came thither fast,

With many a weeping eye,
For other means they could not find,

But he that day must dye.

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