Runes were upon his tongue, As on the warrior's sword.

All things in earth and air
Bound were by magic spell
Never to do him harm;
Even the plants and stones;
All save the mistletoe,
The sacred mistletoe !

Hoeder, the blind old God,
Whose feet are shod with silence,
Pierced through that gentle breast
With his sharp spear, by fraud
Made of the mistletoe,
The accursed mistletoe!

They laid him in his ship,
With horse and harness,
As on a funeral pyre.
Odin placed

A ring upon his finger,
And whispered in his ear.

They launched the burning ship!
It floated far away
Over the misty sea,

Till like the sun it seemed,
Sinking beneath the waves.
Balder returned no more!

So perish the old Gods!
But out of the sea of Time
Rises a new land of song,
Fairer than the old.
Over its meadows green
Walk the young bards and sing.

Build it again, ye bards,

Fairer than before!

Ye fathers of the new race,
Feed upon morning dew,
Sing the new Song of Love!

The law of force is dead!
The law of love prevails!
Thor, the thunderer,

Shall rule the earth no more,
No more, with threats,
Challenge the meek Christ.

Sing no more,

O ye bards of the North, Of Vikings and of Jarls! Of the days of Eld Preserve the freedom only, Not the deeds of blood!

But the great Master said, "I see No best in kind, but in degree; gave a various gift to each,

To charm, to strengthen, and to teach.

.6 These are the three great chords of might,

And he whose ear is tuned aright
Will hear no discord in the three,
But the most perfect harmony."

SUSPIRIA.

TAKE them, O Death! and bear away Whatever thou canst call thine own! Thine image, stamped upon this clay,

Doth give thee that, but that alone!

Take them, O Grave! and let them lie

Folded upon thy narrow shelves, As garments by the soul laid by, And precious only to ourselves! Take them, O great Eternity!

Our little life is but a gust That bends the branches of thy tree, And trails its blossoms in the dust!

HYMN

FOR MY BROTHER'S ORDINATION.

CHRIST to the young man said: "Yet one thing more;

If thou wouldst perfect be,

Sell all thou hast and give it to the poor,
And come and follow me!'

Within this temple Christ again, unseen,
Those sacred words hath said,
And his invisible hands to-day have been
Laid on a young man's head.

And evermore beside him on his way
The unseen Christ shall move,
That he may lean upon his arm and say,
"Dost thou, dear Lord, approve?"

Beside him at the marriage feast shall be,
To make the scene more fair;
Beside him in the dark Gethsemane
Of pain and midnight prayer.

O holy trust! O endless sense of rest!
Like the beloved John

To lay his head upon the Saviour's breast, And thus to journey on!

Through leafy alleys Of verdurous valleys With merry sallies Singing their chant :

"The roads should blossom, the roads should bloom,

So fair a bride shall leave her home! Should blossom and bloom with garlands gay,

So fair a bride shall pass to-day!"

It is Baptiste, and his affianced maiden, With garlands for the bridal laden!

The sky was blue; without one cloud of gloom,

The sun of March was shining brightly, And to the air the freshening wind gave lightly

Its breathings of perfume.

When one beholds the dusky hedges blossom,

A rustic bridal, ah! how sweet it is!
To sounds of joyous melodies,
That touch with tenderness the trem-
bling bosom,

A band of maidens
Gayly frolicking,
A band of youngsters
Wildly rollicking!
Kissing,

Caressing,

With fingers pressing,

Till in the veriest

Madness of mirth, as they dance,
They retreat and advance,

Trying whose laugh shall be loud-
est and merriest;
While the bride, with roguish eyes,
Sporting with them, now escapes and

cries:
"Those who catch me
Married verily

This year shall be!"

It is, that, half-way up the hill,
In yon cottage, by whose walls
Stand the cart-house and the stalls,
Dwelleth the blind orphan still,
Daughter of a veteran old;
And you must know, one year ago,
That Margaret, the young and ten-
der,

Was the village pride and splendor,
And Baptiste her lover bold.
Love, the deceiver, them ensnared ;
For them the altar was prepared;
But alas! the summer's blight,
The dread disease that none can stay,
The pestilence that walks by night,
Took the young bride's sight away.

All at the father's stern command was changed;

Their peace was gone, but not their love estranged.

Wearied at home, erelong the lover fled;
Returned but three short days ago,
The golden chain they round him
throw,

He is enticed, and onward led
To marry Angela, and yet
Is thinking ever of Margaret.

Then suddenly a maiden cried, "Anna, Theresa, Mary, Kate! Here comes the cripple Jane!" And by a fountain's side

A woman, bent and gray with years,
Under the mulberry-trees appears,
And all towards her run, as fleet
As had they wings upon their feet.

It is that Jane, the cripple Jane,
Is a soothsayer, wary and kind.
She telleth fortunes, and none complain.
She promises one a village swain,

be?"

"I know it!" answered Margaret Whom the vision, with aspect black as jet,

Mastered again; and its hand of ice Held her heart crushed, as in a vice! "Paul, be not sad! 'Tis a holi day;

To-morrow put on thy doublet gay
But leave me now for a while alone.'
Away, with a hop and a jump,
went Paul,

And, as he whistled along the hall,||
Entered Jane, the crippled crone.

"Holy Virgin! what dreadful heat
I am faint, and weary, and out of
breath!

But thou art cold, art chill as

death;

My little friend! what ails thee, sweet?"

friend!"

the bride;

And, as I listened to the song,

I thought my turn would come

erelong,

Thou knowest it is at Whitsuntide.
Thy cards forsooth can never lie,
To me such joy they prophesy,
Thy skill shall be vaunted far and
wide

When they behold him at my
side.

And poor Baptiste, what sayest thou?

It must seem long to him;- methinks I see him now!

Jane, shuddering, her hand doth press:

"Thy love I cannot all approve; We must not trust too much to happi