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, To cheer life's flowery April, fast de- Appeared to me, cays; it! - may I again behold A light along the sea, so swiftly com- | Then made he sign of holy rood upon ing, 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 And when therefrom I had withdrawn a little Mine eyes, that I might question my conductor, Again I saw it brighter grown and larger.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! 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 near us them, 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, tow'rds the left hand, with its little waves, Bent down the grass, that on its mar gin sprang. SPRING. 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 seuis, Blown on and beaten by Sclavonian winds, And then, dissolving, filters through it- Whene'er the land, that loses shadow, Like as a taper melts before a fire, After the chiming of the eternal But, when I heard in those sweet melo- Compassion for me, more than had "O wherefore, lady, dost thou thus The ice, that was about my heart con- To air and water changed, and, in my Through lips and eyes came gushing Ministers and messengers of life eter-Confusion and dismay, together mingled, nal. 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 adorned, And the sun's face uprising, overshadowed, So that, by temperate influence of vapors, The eye sustained his aspect for long while; Thus in the bosom of a cloud of flowers, thrown up, And down descended inside and with- With crown of olive o'er a snow-white veil, Appeared a lady, under a green man- Vested in colors of the living flame. Even as the snow, among the living rafters Upon the back of Italy, congeals, FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES XV. CENTURY. GENTLE Spring! in sunshine clad, Well dost thou thy power display! gay. A The sleet, and the snow, and the wind, | Wore not his cheek the apple's ruddy 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, And the earth looks bright, and Winter surly, Who has toiled for naught both late and early, Is banished afar by the new-born year, When thy merry step draws near. THE CHILD ASLEEP. FROM THE FRENCH. SWEET babe! true portrait of thy father's face, Sleep on the bosom that thy lips have pressed! Sleep, little one; and closely, gently place Thy drowsy eyelid on thy mother's breast. Upon that tender eye, my little friend, Soft sleep shall come, that cometh not to me! I watch to see thee, nourish thee, defend; 'T is sweet to watch for thee, alone for thee! His arms fall down; sleep sits upon his brow; His eye is closed; he sleeps, nor dreams of harm. glow, Would you not say he slept on Death's cold arm? Loathsome is that earth-house, And grim within to dwell. There thou shalt dwell, And worms shall divide thee. Thus thou art laid, And leavest thy friends Thou hast no friend, Who will come to thee, 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 KING CHRISTIAN. A NATIONAL SONG OF DENMARK. ROM THE DANISH OF JOHANNES EVALD. KING CHRISTIAN stood by the lofty mast In mist and smoke; His sword was hammering so fast, But, when the maid departed, A Swabian raised his hand, Through Gothic helm and brain it And cried, all hot and flushed with wine, passed; Then sank each hostile hulk and mast, In mist and smoke. "Fly!" shouted they, "fly, he who can! Who braves of Denmark's Christian The stroke?" Nils Juel gave heed to the tempest's roar, He hoisted his blood-red flag once more, 66 roar, "Now is the hour!" "Long live the Swabian land! Fly!" shouted they, "for shelter fly! There have I as many maidens Of Denmark's Juel who can defy |