Translation of ABRAHAM COLES.
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MYRRH-BEARERS.[A]
Three women crept at break of day
A-grope along the shadowy way
Where Joseph's tomb and garden lay.
With blanch of woe each face was white,
As the gray Orient's waxing light
Brought back upon their awe-struck sight
The sixth-day scene of anguish. Fast
The starkly standing cross they passed,
And, breathless, neared the gate at last.
Each on her throbbing bosom bore
A burden of such fragrant store
As never there had lain before.
Spices, the purest, richest, best,
That e'er the musky East possessed,
From Ind to Araby-the-Blest,
Had they with sorrow-riven hearts
Searched all Jerusalem's costliest marts
In quest of,—nards whose pungent arts
Should the dead sepulchre imbue
With vital odors through and through:
'T was all their love had leave to do!