IN THE FULNESS OF TIME.
By Zitella Cocke
[Zitella Cocke, in January Lippincott's.] Upon that silent night,
When he looked forth and viewed the starry host,
What held Imperial Cæsar's mind the most?
A conquered world at peace, what bold surmise
Stirred his ambition to untried emprise?
Recked he of that poor province in the East,
Of all Rome's pomp and empery the least? Upon that solemn night,
Hoary with age and wise with eldest lore,
Flowed her mysterious river, as of yore,
From secret founts, parched Egypt's thirst to slake;
Nor did the Sphinx her bond of silence break.
Was there no sound of high angelic strain
In Memnon's music on the Theban plain? Upon that starlit night
Did hallowed radiance, bright with light divine,
Crown with new glory fair Athena's shrine.
Star of the East! did not thy golden beam
Bring joy to Greek and beauty to his dream,
Nor shed one ray of promised light to come
Where every fabled god had found a home? Upon that awful night
Expectant earth in listening wonder lay;
Time had its fulness reached—its perfect day;
Nations and peoples centuries long had sought
Truth of Infinity, through finite thought.
God looked in pity on a world forlorn,
And angels sang, “Lo, Christ, the Truth, is born.”