"Think not the struggle that draws near
Too terrible for man,-nor fear
To meet the foe;

Nor let thy noble spirit grieve,
Its life of glorious fame to leave
On earth below.

"A life of honour and of worth

Has no eternity on earth,'Tis but a name;

And yet its glory far exceeds

That base and sensual life, which leads
To want and shame.

"The eternal life, beyond the sky,
Wealth cannot purchase nor the high
The proud estate;

The soul in dalliance laid, -the spirit
Corrupt with sin,-shall not inherit
A joy so great.

"But the good monk, in cloistered cell,
Shall gain it by his book and bell,
His prayers and tears;

And the brave knight, whose arm endures
Fierce battle, and against the Moors
His standard rears.

"And thou, brave knight, whose hand
has poured

The life-blood of the Pagan horde
O'er all the land,

In heaven shalt thou receive, at length,
The guerdon of thine earthly strength
And dauntless hand.

"Cheered onward by this promise sure,
Strong in the faith entire and pure
Thou dost profess,

Depart,-thy hope is certainty,-
The third-the better life on high
Shalt thou possess."

"O Death, no more, no more delay;
My spirit longs to flee away,
And be at rest;

The will of Heaven my will shall be,-
I bow to the divine decree,

To God's behest.

"My soul is ready to depart,

No thought rebels, the obedient heart
Breathes forth no sigh;

The wish on earth to linger still
Were vain, when 'tis God's sovereign
will

That we shall die.

"O Thou, that for our sins didst take A human form, and humbly make Thy home on earth;

Thou, that to thy divinity

A human nature didst ally
By mortal birth,

"And in that form didst suffer here
Torment, and agony, and fear,
So patiently;

By thy redeeming grace alone,
And not for merits of my own,
O pardon me !"

As thus the dying warrior prayed,
; Without one gathering mist or shade
Upon his mind;

Encircled by his family,

Watched by affection's gentle eye
So soft and kind;

His soul to Him, who gave it, rose;
God lead it to its long repose,
Its glorious rest!

And though the warrior's sun has set,
Its light shall linger round us yet,
Bright, radiant, blest.

THE BROOK.

FROM THE SPANISH.

LAUGH of the mountain !-- lyre of bird and tree!
Pomp of the meadow! mirror of the morn!
The soul of April, unto whom are born
The rose and jessamine, leaps wild in thee!
Although where'er thy devious current strays,
The lap of earth with gold and silver teems,
To me thy clear proceeding brighter seems
Than golden sands, that charm each shepherd's gaze.

How without guile thy bosom, all transparent

As the pure crystal, lets the curious eye

Thy secrets scan, thy smooth, round pebbles count !
How, without malice murmuring, glides thy current !
O sweet simplicity of days gone by!

Thou shun'st the haunts of man, to dwell in limpid fount !

AND now, behold! as at the approach of morning,
Through the gross vapours, Mars grows fiery red
Down in the west upon the ocean floor,

Appeared to me-may I again behold it!-
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 brightness into wings unfolded;
But, when he clearly recognised the pilot,

He cried aloud: "Quick, quick, and bow the knee!
Behold the Angel of God! fold up thy hands!
Henceforward shalt thou see such officers!

"See, how he scorns all human arguments, So that no oar he wants, nor other sail

Than his own wings, between so distant shores! "See, how he holds them, pointed straight to heaven, Fanning the air with the eternal pinions,

That do not moult themselves like mortal hair!"

And then, as nearer and more nearer us came
The Bird of Heaven, more glorious he appeared,
So that the eye could not sustain his presence.

But down I cast it; and he came to shore
With a small vessel, gliding swift and light,
So that the water swallowed nought thereof.
Upon the stern stood the Celestial Pilot!
Beatitude seemed written in his face!
And more than a hundred spirits sat within.

"In exitu Israel out of Egypt !"

Thus sang they altogether in one voice,

With whatso in that Psalm is after written.

Then made he sign of holy rood upon them,
Whereat all cast themselves upon the shore,
And he departed swiftly as he came.

THE TERRESTRIAL PARADISE.

FROM DANTE. PURGATORIO, XXVIII.

LONGING already to search in and round
The heavenly forest, dense and living green,
Which to the eyes tempered the new-born 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 breeze,
Whereat the tremulous branches readily

Did all of them bow downward towards that side
Where its first shadow casts the Holy Mountain;
Yet not from their upright direction bent
So that the little birds upon their tops
Should cease the practice of their tuneful art;
But with full-throated joy, the hours of prime
Singing received they in the midst of foliage
That made monotonous burden to their rhymes,
Even as from branch to branch it gathering swells,
Through the pine forests on the shore of Chiassi,
When Eolus unlooses the Sirocco.

Already my slow steps had led me on
Into the ancient wood so far, that I

Could see no more the place where I had entered.

And lo! my further course cut off a river,
Which, towards the left hand, with its little waves,
Bent down the grass that on its margin sprang.

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, in the new covenant,
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."

I once beheld, at the approach of day,
The orient sky all stained with roseate hues,
And the other heaven with light serene adorned,

And the sun's face uprising, overshadowed,
So that, by temperate influence of vapours,
The eye sustained his aspect for long while;
Thus in the bosom of a cloud of flowers,
Which from those hands angelic were thrown up,
And down descended inside and without,

With crown of olive o'er a snow-white veil,
Appeared a lady under a green mantle,
Vested in colours of the living flame.

Even as the snow, among the living rafters
Upon the back of Italy, congeals,

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 for ever
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.

Confusion and dismay, together mingled,
Forced such a feeble "Yes!" out of my mouth,
To understand it one had need of sight.
Even as a crossbow breaks, when 'tis discharged,
Too tensely drawn the bowstring and the bow,
And with less force the arrow hits the mark;

So I gave way under this heavy burden,
Gushing forth into bitter tears and sighs,
And the voice, fainting, flagged upon its passage.