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How he persists to knock and wait Yet, in the hoary winter of my days, for thee!”

Forever green shall be my trust in And, O ! how often to that voice of sor- Heaven. row,

Celestial King ! O let thy presence pass “ To-morrow we will open,” I replied, Before my spirit, and an image fair And when the morrow came I an- Shall meet that look of mercy from on swered still, “To-morrow.”

As the reflected image in a glass

Doth meet the look of him who seeks

it there,

And owes its being to the gazer's eye. FROM THE SPANISH OF FRANCISCO DE ALDANA.

THE BROOK. CLEAR fount of light ! my native land on high,

FROM THE SPANISH. Bright with a glory that shall never fade!

Laugh of the mountain !- lyre of bird Mansion of truth! without a veil or

and tree ! shade, Thy holy quiet meets the spirit's eye.

Pomp of the meadow ! mirror of the There dwells the soul in its ethereal


The soul of April, unto whom are essence,

born Gasping no longer for life's feeble breath ;

The rose and jessamine, leaps wild in

thee ! But, sentinelled in heaven, its glori. Although, where'er thy devious current

ous presence With pitying eye beholds, yet fears


The lap of earth with gold and silver not, death.

teems, Beloved country! banished from thy shore,

To me thy clear proceeding brighter

seems A stranger in this prison-house of clay, The exiled spirit weeps and sighs for

Than golden sands, that charm each thee !

shepherd's gaze. Heaven ward the bright perfections I

How without guile thy bosom, all transadore

parent Direct, and the sure promise cheers

As the pure crystal, lets the curious

eye That, whither love aspires, there shall

Thy secrets scan, thy smooth, round my dwelling be.

pebbles count ! How, without malice murmuring, glides

thy current ! THE IMAGE OF GOD.

O sweet simplicity of days gone hy!

Thou shun'st the haunts of man, to FROM THE SPANISH OF FRANCISCO DE

dwell in limpid fount ! ALDANA.

the way,

O LORD! who seest, from yon starry THE CELESTIAL PILOT.

height, Centred in one the future and the past, FROM DANTE. PURGATORIO, II. Fashioned in thine own image, see how fast

AND now, behold! as at the approach of The world obscures in me what once morning, was bright!

Through the gross vapors, Mars grows Eternal Sun ! the warmth which thou

fiery red hast given,

Down in the west upon the ocean floor, To cheer life's flowery April, fast de. Appeared to me, - may I agai:1 behold cays;

it !

A light along the sea, so swiftly com- | Then made he sign of holy rood upon ing,

them, Its motion by no flight of wing is Whereat all cast then selves upon the equalled.

shore, And when therefrom I had withdrawn a And he departed swiftly as he came.

little Mine eyes, that I might question my conductor,

THE TERRESTRIAL PARADISE. Again I saw it brighter grown and larger.

FROM DANTE. PURGATORIO, XXVIII. Thereafter, on all sides of it, appeared I knew not what of white, aud under- LONGING already to search in and round neath,

The heavenly forest, dense and livingLittle by little, there came forth an- green, other.

Which tempered to the eyes the newMy master yet had uttered not a word,

born day, While the first whiteness into wings Withouten more delay I left the bank, unfolded ;

Crossing the level country slowly, But, when he clearly recognized the slowly, pilot,

Over the soil, that everywhere breathed He cried aloud : “Quick, quick, and fragrance. bow the knee !

A gently-breathing air, that no mutaBehold the Angel of God ! fold up thy tion hands!

Had in itself, smote me upon the foreHenceforward shalt thou see such bead, officers !

No heavier blow, than of a pleasant See, how he scorns all human arguments, breeze,

So that no oar he wants, nor other sail Whereat the tremulous branches readily Than his own wings, between so dis- Did all of them bow downward totant shores !

wards that side See, how he holds them, pointed straight Where its first shadow casts the Holy to heaven,

Mountain ; Fanning the air with the eternal pin- Yet not from their upright direction bent ions,

So that the little birds upon their tops That do not moult themselves like Should cease the practice of their tunemortal hair!”

ful art ; And then, as nearer and more near us But, with full-throated joy, the hours of

prime The Bird of Heaven, more glorious he Singing received they in the midst of appeared,

foliage So that the eye could not sustain his That made monotonous burden to presence,

their rhymes, But down I cast it ; and he came to Even as from branch to branch it gathshore

ering swells, With a small vessel, gliding swift and Through the pine forests on the shore light,

of Chiassi, So that the water swallowed naught When Æolus unlooses the Sirocco. thereof.

Already my slow steps had led me on Upon the stern stood the Celestial Pilot ! Into the ancient wood so far, that I Beatitude seemed written in his face ! Could see no more the place where I And more than a hundred spirits sat had entered. within.

And lo! my further course cut off a “ In exitu Israel de Ægypto !

river, Thus sang they all together in one Which, tow'rds the left hand, with its voice,

little waves, With whatso in that Psalm is after Bent down the grass, that on its marwritten.

gin sprang.



his grave;

All waters that on earth most limpid Blown on and beaten by Sclavonian are,

winds, Would seem to have within them. And then, dissolving, filters through itselves some mixture,

self, Compared with that, which nothing Whene'er the land, that loses shadow, doth conceal,

breathes, Although it moves on with a brown, Like as a taper melts before a fire, brown current,

Even such I was, without a sigh or tear, Under the shade perpetual, that never Before the song of those who chime Ray of the sun lets in, nor of the forever

After the chiming of the eternal

spheres ;

But, when I heard in those sweet meloBEATRICE


Compassion for me, more than had FROM DANTE. PURGATORIO, XXX., XXXI. they said,

“O wherefore, lady, dost thou thus Even as the Blessed, at the final sum

consume him?" mons,

The ice, that was about my heart conShall rise up quickened, each one from gealed,

To air and water changed, and, in my Wearing again the garments of the anguish, flesh,

Through lips and eyes came gushing So, upon that celestial chariot,

from my breast. A hundred rose ad vocem tanti senis, Ministers and messengers of life eter- Confusion and dismay, together mingled, nal.

Forced such a feeble “ Yes !” out of They all were saying, Benedictus qui venis,"

my mouth,

To understand it one had need of And scattering flowers above and round

sight. about, “ Manibus o date lilia plenis."

Even as a cross-bow breaks, when 't is Oft have I seen, at the approach of day,

discharged, The orient sky all stained with roseate

Too tensely drawn the bow-string and

the bow, hues,

And with less force the arrow hits the And the other heaven with light serene

adorned, And the sun's face uprising, over

So I gave way beneath this heavy burden, shadowed,

Gushing forth into bitter tears and

sighs, So that, by temperate influence of

And the voice, fainting, flagged upon vapors, The eye sustained his aspect for long

while; Thus in the bosom of a cloud of flowers, Which from those hands angelic were


THE FRENCH OF CHARLES And down descended inside and with

D'ORLEANS. out, With crown of olive o'er a snow-white

XV. CENTURY. veil, Appeared a lady, under a green man- GENTLE Spring ! in sunshine clad,

Well dost thou thy power display ! Vested in colors of the living flame. For Winter maketh the light heart sad,

And thou, thou makest the sad heart Even as the snow, among the living

gay. rafters

He sees thee, and calls to his gloomy Upon the back of Italy, congeals,


mark ;

its passage.

thrown up,



cloud ;

The sleet, and the snow, and the wind, | Wore not his cheek the apple's ruddy and the rain ;

glow, And they shrink away, and they flee in Would you not say he slept on Death's fear,

cold arm? When thy merry step draws near.

Awake, my boy! I tremble with afWinter giveth the fields and the trees, fright! so old,

Awake, and chase this fatal thought ! Their beards of icicles and snow;

Unclose And the rain, it raineth so fast and cold, Thine eye but for one moment on the

We must cower over the embers low; light! And, snugly housed from the wind and Even at the price of thine, give me weather,

repose ! Mope like birds that are changing feather. But the storm retires, and the sky grows Sweet error ! he but slept, I breathe clear,

again; When thy merry step draws near. Come, gentle dreams, the hour of

sleep beguile! Winter maketh the sun in the gloomy 0, when shall he, for whom I sigh in sky

vain, Wrap him round with a mantle of Beside me watch to see thy waking

smile? But, Heaven be praised, thy step is

nigh; Thou tearest away the mournful

THE GRAVE. shroud, And the earth looks bright, and Winter FROM THE ANGLO-SAXON.

surly, Who has toiled for naught both late and For thee was a house built early,

Ere thou wast born, Is banished afar by the new-born year,

For thee was a mould meant
When thy merry step draws near.

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 ; SWEET babe ! true portrait of thy father's

Now I shall measure thee, face,

And the mould afterwards. Sleep on the bosom that thy lips have pressed !

Thy house is not . Sleep, little one; and closely, gently place

Highly timbered, Thy drowsy eyelid on thy mother's

It is unhigh and low;

When thou art therein, breast.

The heel-ways are low, Upon that tender eye, my little friend,

The side-ways unhigh. Soft sleep shall come, that cometh not

The roof built to me!

Thy breast full nigh, I watch to see thee, nourish thee, defend;

So thou shalt in mould 'T is sweet to watch for thee, alone for

Dwell full cold, thee !

Dimly and dark. His arms fall down ; sleep sits upon his Doorless is that house, brow;

And dark it is within ; His eye is closed; he sleeps, nor dreams There thou art fast detained of harm.

And Death hath the key.

Loathsome is that earth-house, Path of the Dane to fame and might ! And grim within to dwell.

Dark-rolling wave! There thou shalt dwell,

Receive thy friend, who, scorning flight, And worms shall divide thee. Goes to meet danger with despite,

Proudly as thou the tempest's might, Thus thou art laid,

Dark-rolling wave! And leavest thy friends

And amill pleasures and alarms, Thou hast no friend,

And war and victory, be thine arms Who will come to thee,

My grave!
Who will ever see
How that house pleaseth thee ;
Who will ever open

The door for thee,

And descend after thee;
For soon thou art loathsome THERE sat one day in quiet,
And hateful to see.

By an alehouse on the Rhine,
Four hale and hearty fellows,

And drank the precious wine.

The landlord's daughter filled their cups, A NATIONAL SONG OF DENMARK.

Around the rustic board ;

Then sat they all so calm and still, ROM THE DANISH OF JOHANNES EVALD,

And spake not one rude word. King CHRISTIAN stood by the lofty mast

But, when the maid departed, In mist and smoke;

A Swabian raised his hand,
His sword was hammering so fast,
Through Gothic helm \and brain it and cried, all hot and flushed with wine,

Long live the Swabian land !
Then sank each hostile hulk and mast,
In mist and smoke.

“ The greatest kingdom upon earth “Fly !” shouted they, “fly, he who can!

Cannot with that compare ; Who braves of Denmark's Christian

With all the stout and hardy men The stroke ?

And the nut-brown maidens there."

Nils Juel gave heed to the tempest's roar,

“Ha !” cried a Saxon, laughing, Now is the hour !

And dashed his beard with wine ; He hoisted his blood-red flag once more,

“I had rather live in Lapland, And smote upon the foe full sore,

Than that Swabian land of thine ! And shouted loud, through the tempest's roar,

“The goodliest land on all this earth, “Now is the hour !”

It is the Saxon land ! “Fly!” shouted they, “ for shelter fly! There have I as many maidens Of Denmark's Juel who can defy

As fingers on this hand !” The power ? "

Hold your tongues ! both Swabian North Sea ! a glimpse of Wessel rent

and Saxon!” Thy murky sky !

A bold Bohemian cries ; Then champions to thine arms were sent; “ If there 's a heaven upon this earth, Terror and Death glared where he went ; In Bohemia it lies. From the waves was heard a wail, that rent

“There the tailor blows the flute, Thy murky sky!

And the cobbler blows the hori, From Denmark, thunders Tordenskiol', Ard the miner blows the bugle, Let each to Heaven commend his soul, Over mountain gorge and boumn.'

Anil fiy !

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