GOOD WORDS.

* * * * *

HUMILITY.

  The bird that soars on highest wing
    Builds on the ground her lowly nest;
  And she that doth most sweetly sing
    Sings in the shade, where all things rest;
  In lark and nightingale we see
  What honor hath humility.

  When Mary chose “the better part,”
    She meekly sat at Jesus’ feet;
  And Lydia’s gently opened heart
    Was made for God’s own temple meet: 
  Fairest and best adorned is she
  Whose clothing is humility.

  The saint that wears heaven’s brightest crown,
    In deepest adoration bends: 
  The weight of glory bows him down
    Then most, when most his soul ascends: 
  Nearest the throne itself must be
  The footstool of humility.

JAMES MONTGOMERY.

* * * * *

KING ROBERT OF SICILY.

  Robert of Sicily, brother of Pope Urbane
  And Valmond, emperor of Allemaine,
  Apparelled in magnificent attire,
  With retinue of many a knight and squire,
  On Saint John’s eve, at vespers, proudly sat
  And heard the priests chant the Magnificat. 
  And as he listened o’er and o’er again
  Repeated, like a burden or refrain,
  He caught the words, “Deposuit potentes
  De sede, et exaltavit humiles;"
  And slowly lifting up his kingly head,
  He to a learned clerk beside him said,
  “What mean these words?” The clerk made answer meet,
  “He has put down the mighty from their seat,
  And has exalted them of low degree.” 
  Thereat King Robert muttered scornfully,
  “’T is well that such seditious words are sung
  Only by priests and in the Latin tongue;
  For unto priests and people be it known,
  There is no power can push me from my throne!”
  And leaning back, he yawned and fell asleep,
  Lulled by the chant monotonous and deep.

  When he awoke, it was already night;
  The church was empty, and there was no light,
  Save where the lamps that glimmered, few and faint,
  Lighted a little space before some saint. 
  He started from his seat and gazed around,
  But saw no living thing and heard no sound. 
  He groped towards the door, but it was locked;
  He cried aloud, and listened, and then knocked,
  And uttered awful threatenings and complaints,
  And imprecations upon men and saints. 
  The sounds reechoed from the roof and walls
  As if dead priests were laughing in their stalls.

  At length the sexton, hearing from without
  The tumult of the knocking and the shout,
  And thinking thieves were in the house of prayer,
  Came with his lantern, asking, “Who is there?”
  Half choked with rage, King Robert fiercely said,
  “Open:  ’tis I, the king!  Art thou afraid?”
  The frightened sexton, muttering, with