’Knights of the Rosy Cross! they bore
  Its weight within the breast, but wore
    Without the sign, in glistening ruby bright. 
  The gall and vinegar they drank alone,
  But to the world at large would only own
    The wine of faith, sparkling with rosy light.

  ’They knew the secret of the sacred oil,
    Which, poured upon the prophet’s head,
      Could keep him wise and pure for aye,
  Apart from all that might distract or soil;
    With this their lamps they fed,
  Which burn in their sepulchral shrines,
      Unfading night and day.

    ’The pass-word now is lost
  To that initiation full and free;
    Daily we pay the cost
  Of our slow schooling for divine degree. 
    We know no means to feed an undying lamp,
    Our lights go out in every wind and damp.

    ’We wear the cross of Ebony and Gold,
  Upon a dark back-ground a form of light,
    A heavenly hope within a bosom cold,
  A starry promise in a frequent night;
    And oft the dying lamp must trim again,
    For we are conscious, thoughtful, striving men.

  ’Yet be we faithful to this present trust,
  Clasp to a heart resigned this faithful Must;
      Though deepest dark our efforts should enfold,
      Unwearied mine to find the vein of gold;
  Forget not oft to waft the prayer on high;—­
  The rosy dawn again shall fill the sky.

  ’And by that lovely light all truth revealed,—­
  The cherished forms, which sad distrust concealed,
      Transfigured, yet the same, will round us stand,
      The kindred angels of a faithful band;
  Ruby and ebon cross then cast aside,
  No lamp more needed, for the night has died.

  ’"Be to the best thou knowest ever true,”
    Is all the creed. 
  Then be thy talisman of rosy hue,
    Or fenced with thorns, that wearing, thou must bleed,
  Or, gentle pledge of love’s prophetic view,
    The faithful steps it will securely lead.

  ’Happy are all who reach that distant shore,
    And bathe in heavenly day;
  Happiest are those who high the banner bore,
    To marshal others on the way,
  Or waited for them, fainting and way-worn,
    By burthens overborne.’

[Footnote A:  This sentence was written before I was aware that Margaret, as will be seen hereafter, had used the same symbol to describe Madame Sand.  The first impulse, of course, when I discovered this coincidence, was to strike out the above passage; yet, on second thought, I have retained it, as indicating an actual resemblance between these two grand women.  In Margaret, however, the benediction of their noble-hearted sister, Elizabeth Barrett, had already been fulfilled; for she to “woman’s claim” had ever joined

“the angel-grace Of a pure genius sanctified from blame.”]

[Footnote B:  Novalis.]