University of Virginia Library

Fling it wide
Yon casement! Let the sea-breeze cool my brow!
No, not sea-breeze; this is not Aquileia
Where lived Crostatius and Eusebius, mine;
I left my young, sad sister in their charge—
Was that well done? I know not; ne'er shall know—
Then passed alone to Chalcis 'mid the sands:
It was a fiery prison to the sense,
A Patmos to the soul. Let in the breeze!
There died my dearest then upon the earth,
Hylas and Innocentius. Still at times—
Thanks, Paula, thanks! Hail, pure reviving airs
They waft me healing memories. Once again
O child, I read the tidings of thy birth
By Leta sent to Paula here recluse.
‘The child of all thy prayers is ours at last!
Mother, thy name shall be our infant's name,
A younger Paula pledged before her birth
To live like thee the handmaid of the Lord,
With thee and thy Eustochium, my sweet sister.’
I wrote in turn: ‘Leta, I share thy joy:
Train up thy child to God: her little hands,
When first they travel o'er her mother's face
In wondering love, press thou upon those letters
Ivory or ebon, spelling God's great name:
Let Halleluiahs be her earliest song:
See she be humbly clad and tend God's poor:
When womanhood draws near her, but ere yet
Childhood has left her, send her to this spot
That, kneeling where the cradled Child-God slept
She learn His service. I will be her Teacher.
She shall be worthy of her Roman stock.’