RICHARD CRASHAW

Scarce has she learnt to lisp a name

Of martyr, yet she thinks it shame

Life should so long play with that breath

Which spent can buy so brave a death.

She never undertook to know

What death with love should have to do.

Nor has she e'er yet understood

Why, to show love, she should shed blood;

Yet, though she cannot tell you why,

She can love, and she can die.

Scarce has she blood enough to make

A guilty sword blush for her sake ;

Yet has a heart dares hope to prove

How much less strong is death than love. . .

Since 'tis not to be had at home,

She'll travel for a martyrdom.

No home for her, confesses she,

But where she may a martyr be.

She'll to the Moors, and trade with them

For this unvalued diadem ;

She offers them her dearest breath,

With Christ's name in 't, in change for death ;

She'll bargain with them, and will give

Them God, and teach them how to live

In Him ; or, if they this deny,

For Him she'll teach them how to die.

So shall she leave amongst them sown

Her Lord's blood, or at least her own.

Farewell then, all the world, adieu ! Teresa is no more for you. Farewell all pleasures, sports, and joys, Never till now esteemed toys !

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