"O king!" she whispered sweet,
"Too happy fate have they
Who perish in thy way
Beneath thy gracious feet!
"Thou of the God-lent crown,
Shall these vile creatures dare
Murmur against thee where
The knees of kings kneel down?"
"Nay," Solomon replied,
"The wise and strong should seek
The welfare of the weak,"
And turned his horse aside.
His train, with quick alarm,
Curved with their leader round
The ant-hill's peopled mound,
And left it free from harm.
The jewelled head bent low;
"O king!" she said, "henceforth
The secret of thy worth
And wisdom well I know.
"Happy must be the State
Whose ruler heedeth more
The murmurs of the poor
Than flatteries of the great."
1877.
IN THE "OLD SOUTH."
On the 8th of July, 1677, Margaret Brewster with four other Friends went into the South Church in time of meeting, "in sack-cloth, with ashes upon her head, barefoot, and her face blackened," and delivered "a warning from the great God of Heaven and Earth to the Rulers and Magistrates of Boston." For the offence she was sentenced to be "whipped at a cart's tail up and down the Town, with twenty lashes."
SHE came and stood in the Old South Church,
A wonder and a sign,
With a look the old-time sibyls wore,
Half-crazed and half-divine.
Save the mournful sackcloth about her wound,
Unclothed as the primal mother,
With limbs that trembled and eyes that blazed
With a fire she dare not smother.