And with her head, as Paul talks on again,
Touches the crown of filigrane
Suspended from the low-arched portal,
No more restrained, no more afraid,
She walks, as for a feast arrayed,
And in the ancient chapel's sombre night
They both are lost to sight.

At length the bell,
With booming sound,

Sends forth, resounding round,

Its hymeneal peal o'er rock and down the dell.
It is broad day, with sunshine and with rain;
And yet the guests delay not long,

For soon arrives the bridal train,
And with it brings the village throng.

In sooth, deceit maketh no mortal gay,
For lo! Baptiste on this triumphant day,
Mute as an idiot, sad as yester-morning,
Thinks only of the beldame's words of warning.

And Angela thinks of her cross, I wis;
To be a bride is all! The pretty lisper
Feels her heart swell to hear all round her whisper
"How beautiful! how beautiful she is!"

But she must calm that giddy head,
For already the Mass is said;

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!

16

Baptiste," she said, "since thou hast wished my death,

As holy water be my blood for thee!"
And calmly in the air a knife suspended!
Doubtless her guardian angel near attended,
For anguish did its work so well,
That, ere the fatal stroke descended,
Lifeless she fell!

At eve, instead of bridal verse,
The De Profundis filled the air;
Decked with flowers a simple hearse
To the churchyard forth they bear;
Village girls in robes of snow
Follow, weeping as they go;

Nowhere was a smile that day,

No, ah no! for each one seemed to say:

"The roads should mourn and be veiled in gloom,
So fair a corpse shall leave its home!
Should mourn and should weep, ah, well-away!
So fair a corpse shall pass to-day!"

A CHRISTMAS CAROL.

FROM THE NOEI BOURGUIGNON DE GUI BARÔZAL

I HEAR along our street
Pass the minstrel throngs
Hark! they play so sweet,

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;
Loud the gleemen sing

In the streets their merry rhymes.
Let us by the fire
Ever higher

Sing them till the night expire.

Shepherds at the grange,
Where the Babe was born,
Sang, with many a change,
Christmas carols until morn.
Let us by the fire

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,
Sing by rivers cold,

With uncovered heads and feet.

Let us by the fire

Ever higher

Sing them till the night expire.

Who by the fireside stands
Stamps his feet and sings;

But he who blows his hands Not so gay a carol brings. Let us by the fire Ever higher

Sing them till the night expire!

BIRDS OF PASSAGE.

come i gru van cantando lor lai,

Facendo in aer di sè lunga riga.

DANTE

1858.