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hast given,

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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, it!

cays;

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And when therefrom I had withdrawn a little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

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 naught 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 de Ægypto!"

Thus sang they all together in one voice,

With whatso in that Psalm is after written.

them,

Whereat all cast themselves upon the

shore,

And he departed swiftly as he came.

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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 margin sprang.

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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 forever

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 cross-bow breaks, when 't is discharged,

Too tensely drawn the bow-string and the bow,

And with less force the arrow hits the

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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

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THE GRAVE.

FROM THE ANGLO-SAXON.

FOR thee was a house built
Ere thou wast born,

For thee was a mould meant
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;
Now I shall measure thee,
And the mould afterwards.

Thy house is not Highly timbered, It is unhigh and low; When thou art therein, The heel-ways are low, The side-ways unhigh. The roof is built Thy breast full nigh, So thou shalt in mould Dwell full cold, Dimly and dark.

Doorless is that house, And dark it is within; There thou art fast detained And Death hath the key.

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
And hateful to see.

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,

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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,
Now is the hour!

He hoisted his blood-red flag once more,
And smote upon the foe full sore,

And shouted loud, through the tempest's

66

roar,

"Now is the hour!"

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'Long live the Swabian land!

"The greatest kingdom upon earth
Cannot with that compare ;
With all the stout and hardy men
And the nut-brown maidens there."

"Ha!" cried a Saxon, laughing,

And dashed his beard with wine; "I had rather live in Lapland,

Than that Swabian land of thine!

"The goodliest land on all this earth, It is the Saxon land!

Fly!" shouted they, "for shelter fly! There have I as many maidens Of Denmark's Juel who can defy

The power?"

North Sea a glimpse of Wessel rent

Thy murky sky!

Then champions to thine arms were sent ;
Terror and Death glared where he went;
From the waves was heard a wail, that
rent

Thy murky sky!

From Denmark, thunders Tordenskiol',
Let each to Heaven commend his soul,

And fly!

As fingers on this hand !"

"Hold your tongues! both Swabian and Saxon!"

A bold Bohemian cries; "If there's a heaven upon this earth, In Bohemia it lies.

"There the tailor blows the flute,

And the cobbler blows the horn, And the miner blows the bugle, Over mountain gorge and bourn.'

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