Near that castle, fair to see, Crowded with sculptures old, in every part, And proud of its name of high degree, At the base of the rock, is builded there; Its sacred summit, swept by autumn gales, Round which the osprey screams and sails. Thus Margaret said. "Where are we? we as cend!" "Yes; seest thou not our journey's end? Hearest not the osprey from the belfry cry? The hideous bird, that brings ill luck, we know ! Dost thou remember when our father said, The night we watched beside his bed, 'O daughter, I am weak and low; Take care of Paul; I feel that I am dying!' Come in! The bride will be here soon: Thou tremblest! O my God! thou art going to swoon!" She could no more, the blind girl, weak and weary! A voice seemed crying from that grave so dreary, "What wouldst thou do, my daughter?"--and she started; And quick recoiled, aghast, faint-hearted; But Paul, impatient, urges ever more Her steps towards the open door; And when, beneath her feet, the unhappy maid And with her head, as Paul talks on again, At length the bell, Sends forth, resounding round, Its hymeneal peal o'er rock and down the dell. For soon arrives the bridal train, In sooth, deceit maketh no mortal gay, And Angela thinks of her cross, I wis; But she must calm that giddy head, At the holy table stands the priest; The wedding ring is blessed; Baptiste receives it; Ere on the finger of the bride he leaves it, He must pronounce one word at least! 'T is spoken; and sudden at the groomsman's side ""T is he!" a well-known voice has cried. And while the wedding guests all hold their breath, Opes the confessional, and the blind girl, see! Baptiste," she said, "since thou hast wished my death, As holy water be my blood for thee!" That, ere the fatal stroke descended, At eve, instead of bridal verse, Nowhere was a smile that day, No, ah no! for each one seemed to say : "The roads should mourn and be veiled in gloom, A CHRISTMAS CAROL. FROM THE NOEI BOURGUIGNON DE GUI BARÔZAL I HEAR along our street On their hautboys, Christmas songs! Let us by the fire Ever higher Sing them till the night expire! In December ring Every day the chimes; In the streets their merry rhymes. Sing them till the night expire. Shepherds at the grange, Ever higher Sing them till the night expire! These good people sang Songs devout and sweet; While the rafters rang, There they stood with freezing feet. Let us by the fire Ever higher Sing them till the night expire. Nuns in frigid cells At this holy tide, For want of something else, Christmas songs at times have tried. Let us by the fire Ever higher Sing them till the night expire! Washerwomen old, To the sound they beat, With uncovered heads and feet. Ever higher Sing them till the night expire. Who by the fireside stands |