SPRING. FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES D'ORLEANS XV. CENTURY. GENTLE Spring!-in sunshine clad, For Winter maketh the light heart sad, Winter giveth the fields and the trees, so old, And the rain, it raineth so fast and cold, And, snugly housed from the wind and weather Winter maketh the sun in the gloomy sky When thy merry step draws near THE CHILD ASLEEP. FROM THE FRENCH. SWEET babe! true portrait of thy father's face, Upon that tender eye, my little friend, Soft sleep shall come, that cometh not to me! I watch to see thee, nourish thee, defend ; 'Tis sweet to watch for thee,-alone for thee! His arms fall down; sleep sits upon his brow; Would you not say he slept on Death's cold arm? Awake, my boy!-I tremble with affright! Awake, and chase this fatal thought!- Unclose Thine eye but for one moment on the light! Even at the price of thine, give me repose! Sweet error!-he but I breathe again ; Come, gentle dreams, the hour of sleep beguile! Oh! when shall he, for whom I sigh in vain, Beside me watch to see thy waking smile? THE GRAVE. FROM THE ANGLO-SAXON. FOR thee was a house built For thee was a mould meant 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. 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 worms shall divide thee. Thus thou art laid, 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. FROM THE DANISH OF JOHANNES EVALD. KING Christian stood by the lofty mast His sword was hammering so fast, "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 shouted loud, through the tempest's roar, "Fly!" shouted they, "for shelter, fly! North Sea! a glimpse of Wessel rent Then champions to thine arms were sent; From Denmark, thunders Tordenskiol', Path of the Dane to fame and might! Receive thy friend, who, scorning flight, And amid pleasures and alarms, Nils Juel was a celebrated Danish Admiral, and Peder Wessel, a Vice-Admiral. who for his great prowess received the popular title of Tordenski ld, or Thunder-shield. In childhood he was a tailor's apprentice, and rose to his high rank before the age of twenty-eight, when he was killed in a duel. |