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101 GOETHE : Elegie. 102 The more we love, the less we trust the return we may have

awakened : It is perhaps a thing natural in deep and true affection to shrink from a decisive moment, however longed for, and to tremble even whilst hope passes into happiness.

MADAME DE STAEL: Corinne. 106 work of a poet's loom.

CATULLUS : Epithalamium Pelei et Thetidos. 107 ... Tacitus has spoken of it ...-Hist. iv, c. 77. 109 Sappho's phrase,

More golden than gold. 116 . . . like the saint ..

Vade, inquit, a me, ita vivas; fieri non potest, ut filius

istarum lacrimarum pereat.—AUGUSTINE : Confessions, l. iii,

c. 12.

118 A. TENNYSON : Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. 120 (1) —with one who came nearest

MILTON: On Shakspeare, 1630. (2) Then was it as though the Heavens lightened; it seemed

as if I had lost nothing, nothing : as if I had everything,

which I had ever enjoyed.-GOETHE : Sonnets. 123 BUNYAN : Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners. 124 The soft disdain and soft repulses.

T. Tasso : Aminta, Att. v. 125 ... the disheartened poet .

Childe Harold, c. iv., St. 123. 127 —the poet's phrase

H. HEINE: Neuer Frühling, xxxvii. 128 We must live whilst we live. 134 SHELLEY: The Recollection. 137 (1) For such a smile was glowing in her eyes, that with mine

I thought I touched the deepest depth of grace and of

Paradise.—Paradiso, c. xv.

(2) Like doves that hear the call of passion.-Inferno, c. v. 144 Confessions, B. iv, c. 8. 147 Like the desolate Phaedra .

v. EURIPIDES : Hippolytus, 198, &c. 148 ... Summer'. Nare per aestatem liquidam.

VIRGIL: Geor. iv, 59. that something .

8 τι του ζήν φίλσερον άλλο σκότος αμπίσχων κρύπτει νεφέλαις.

Hippolytus, 1. 192, 3. Ed. Dind. 149 ... a great poet.-H. HEINE : Reisebilder,

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150 (1) MACHIAVELLI: Principe, cap. xxxvii.
(2) Ah! if there be none who hears me with pity,
why waste such frequent prayers on heaven?

PETRARCH: Canz, xvii. 151 Soon she spread far and wide that great secret of sadness, which she loves to utter to the ancient oaks and shores.

CHATEAUBRIAND: Atala. 153 MME DE STAEL: Corinne. 154 the feeble you are not alone in misfortune.

Consolatio usitata Non tibi hoc soli . non firmissima.

CICERO: Tusc. Disp. 155 A. TENNYSON : In Memoriam. 156 smile of welcome.-Paradiso, c. vii. 157 do manus, 'I submit'. forgetfulness'.

Lethaei ad fluminis undam securos latices et longa oblivia potant.

Aeneid, B. vi, c. 714. 159 We must seek consolation in sorrow, not in ourselves, not in

other men, not in anything created; but in God. And the reason of this is that no creature can be the first cause of the events which we name evils: but that, as God's providence is their only and genuine cause, judge, and disposer, we must without question go straight to the source and ascend to the originator, if we would obtain real alleviation.

Pensées, vol. i, p. 18. 162 BYRON: Hebrew Melodies. 164 (1) overcome by the eternal wound.—LUCRETIUS: I, 34. (2) Live, then: of this passion no power can deprive thee.

:

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181 As he, who with panting breath has escaped from the deep sea to the shore, turns to the dangerous water and gazes.

Inferno, i. (Carlyle's translation). 182 (1) Soverchio di dolcezza.–Vita Nuova. (2) But thou lingerest: the day is going: young bride, come

forth.—CATULLUS: In nuptias Juliae et Manlii. (3) .. Vision.—DE QUINCEY: Confessions of an Opium Eater. 185

Quella man già tanto desiata
A me parlando e sospirando porse ;
Ond' eterna dolcezza al cor m'è nata.

PETRARCH: Trionfo della Morte, c. ii. 186 a holy-hearted Poet'.—KEBLE: Christian Year. 187 SHELLEY: Adonais. 191 'What are these words? or where am I ? and what deceives me except I myself and paramount passion ?

PETRARCH: Canz. xvii. 193 A. TENNYSON: Maud. 194 So thou wast then received into Paradise, as if worthy of the

ever-blessed life: no wish remained, no hope, no desire; here was the goal of thy deepest aim; the source of regretful tears was dried up at once before the vision of that only Fairest.—GOETHE: Elegie.

No reader can be more conscious than I of the utter inadequacy of this or of translations in general. It is given solely in obedience to the commonsense rule that in an English book the knowledge of no other language should be anywhere required. But I am unable to follow this rule for the lines quoted on page 223. Heine is even more beyond translation

than Goethe. 197 I did not weep, so stony I grew within.-Inferno, c. xxxiii. 204 the playthings of Providence'. άνθρωπος ... θεού τι παιγνίων.

6

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223 -is inestimable'.

μη φύναι τον άπαντα νικά λόγον.

SOPHOCLES: Oedipus at Colonus, 1. 1225. 226 A. TENNYSON: Vision of Fair Women. 231

The Two Voices. 234

In Memoriam. 235 Without prescience of death and ready to leave the light.

SOPHOCLES : Electra, 1078.

ERRATA.

Page 11, line 12, for public education, read public school education.
Page 39, line 3, for dazzling, read dazzled.
Page 120, line 23, for engangen, read entgangen.
Page 137, line 14, the broken word is absolute.
Page 147, line 3, for flash! What, read flash: what.
Page 151, line 15, for sécret, read secret.
Page 164, line 33, for no, read not.

London:-Printed by G. BARCLAY, Castle St. Leicester Sq. : April, 1858.

The Song in the Dark.
I heard a little bird sing out one morning,

While yet the darkness overspread the sky,
And not a single streak of rose gave warning

That day was nigh;

It sang with such a sweet and joyful clearness,

The silence piercing with a note so fine,
I started, thrilled with sudden sense of nearness

To love divine.

“Oh, weary heart,” it scemed to utter, “hearken!

God sends a message to you in my song;
The day is coming, though the shadows darken,

And night is long.”

“God sces your eyelids heavy-not with slumber;

The sorrowful tears that make their brightness dim, And all your patient prayers-no man can number

Are known to Him.

“The day shall come, your darkness dispossessing :"

And while the bird sang, on my eyelids prest A weight of sleep, the weary brain caressing

To happy rest.

I slept as children sleep, tired out with crying;

God knows, not I, when I had slept before! I waked, to find the gracious sunshine lying

Along the floor.

And in its blessed light to see returning

The face of one that was the world to me;
The face my heart, with bitter grief and yearning,

Had ached to sec.

The day had come, indeed ! O sweetest singer,

The song you sung me in the dark was true, And would that I could be so swift a bringer Of joy to you!

-Aldine.