hast given,

AND now, behold! as at the approach of morning,

Through the gross vapors, Mars grows fiery red

Down in the west upon the ocean floor, may I again behold

cays;

A light along the sea, so swiftly coming,

Its motion by no flight of wing is

equalled.

And when therefrom I had withdrawn a little

Mine eyes, that I might question my conductor,

Again I saw it brighter grown and larger. Thereafter, on all sides of it, appeared I knew not what of white, and underneath,

Little by little, there came forth another.

My master yet had uttered not a word, While the first whiteness into wings unfolded;

But, when he clearly recognized the pilot,

He cried aloud: "Quick, quick, and bow the knee !

Behold the Angel of God! fold up thy

hands!

PURGATORIO, XXVIII.

LONGING already to search in and round The heavenly forest, dense and livinggreen,

Which tempered to the eyes the newborn day,

Withouten more delay I left the bank, Crossing the level country slowly, slowly,

Over the soil, that everywhere breathed fragrance.

A gently-breathing air, that no mutation

Had in itself, smote me upon the forehead,

No heavier blow, than of a pleasant

All waters that on earth most limpid

are,

Would seem to have within themselves some mixture, Compared with that, which nothing doth conceal,

Although it moves on with a brown, brown current,

Under the shade perpetual, that never Ray of the sun lets in, nor of the

moon.

BEATRICE.

FROM DANTE. PURGATORIO, XXX., XXXI.

EVEN as the Blessed, at the final summons,

Shall rise up quickened, each one from his grave, Wearing again the garments of the flesh,

So, upon that celestial chariot,

A hundred rose ad vocem tanti senis, Ministers and messengers of life eternal.

They all were saying, "Benedictus qui venis,"

And scattering flowers above and round about,

"Manibus o date lilia plenis." Oft have I seen, at the approach of day, The orient sky all stained with roseate hues,

And the other heaven with light serene

Blown on and beaten by Sclavonian

winds,

And then, dissolving, filters through itself,

Whene'er the land, that loses shadow, breathes,

Like as a taper melts before a fire, Even such I was, without a sigh or tear, Before the song of those who chime forever

After the chiming of the eternal spheres ;

But, when I heard in those sweet melodies

Compassion for me, more than had they said,

"O wherefore, lady, dost thou thus consume him?"

The ice, that was about my heart congealed,

To air and water changed, and, in my anguish, Through lips and eyes came gushing from my breast.

and the rain;

And they shrink away, and they flee in fear,

When thy merry step draws near.

Winter giveth the fields and the trees, so old,

Their beards of icicles and snow; And the rain, it raineth so fast and cold, We must cower over the embers low; And, snugly housed from the wind and weather,

Mope like birds that are changing feather. But the storm retires, and the sky grows clear,

When thy merry step draws near.

Winter maketh the sun in the gloomy sky

Wrap him round with a mantle of cloud;

But, Heaven be praised, thy step is nigh;

Thou tearest away the mournful

shroud,

glow,

Would you not say he slept on Death's cold arm?

Awake, my boy! I tremble with affright!

Awake, and chase this fatal thought!

FROM THE ANGLO-SAXON.

FOR thee was a house built
Ere thou wast born,

For thee was a mould meant
Ere thou of mother camest.
But it is not made ready,
Nor its depth measured,
Nor is it seen

How long it shall be.
Now I bring thee

Where thou shalt be;
Now I shall measure thee,
And the mould afterwards.

Thy house is not. Highly timbered, It is unhigh and low; When thou art therein, The heel-ways are low, The side-ways unhigh. The roof is built Thy breast full nigh, So thou shalt in mould Dwell full cold, Dimly and dark.

Doorless is that house, And dark it is within ; There thou art fast detained And Death hath the key.