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 vesssel, gliding swift and light,
So that the water swallowed nought 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 out of Egypt!"

Thus sang they all together in one voice,
With whatso in that Psalm is after written.
Then made he sign of holy rood upon them,
Whereat all cast themselves upon the shore,
And he departed swiftly as he came,

THE TERRESTRIAL PARADISE.

FROM DANTE. PURGATORIO, XXVIII.

LONGING already to search in and round
The heavenly forest, dense and living-green,
Which to the eyes tempered the new-born day.

Withouten more delay I left the bank,
Crossing the level country slowly, slowly,
Over the soil, that every where breathed fragrance.
A gently-breathing air, that no mutation
Had in itself, smote me upon the forehead,
No heavier blow, than of a pleasant breeze.

Whereat the tremulous branches readily
Did all of them bow downward towards that side
Where its first shadow casts the Holy Mountain;

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 farther course cut off a river,

Which, towards the left hand, with its little waves,
Bent down the grass that on its margin sprang.

All waters that on earth most limpid are,

Would seem to have within themselves some mixture, Compared with that, which nothing doth conceal, Although it moves on with a brown, brown current, Under the shade perpetual, that never

Ray of the sun lets in, nor of the moon.

FROM DANTE.

BEATRICE.

PURGATORIO, XXX., XXXI.

EVEN as the Blessed, in the new covenant,

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 senis,
Ministers and messengers of life eternal.

They all were saying; "Benedictus qui venis,”
And scattering flowers above and round about,
"Manibus o date lilia plenis."

I once beheld, 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 vapours,
The eye sustained his aspect for long while;
Thus in the bosom of a cloud of flowers,
Which from those hands angelic were thrown up,
And down descended inside and without,

With crown of olive o'er a snow-white veil,
Appeared a lady, under a green mantle,

Vested in colours of the living flame.

Even as the snow, among the living rafters
Upon the back of Italy, congeals,

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 for ever
After the chiming of the eternal spheres;

But, when I heard in those sweet melodies
Compassion for me, more than they had 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 'tis discharged,
Too tensely drawn the bow-string and the bow,
And with less force the arrow hits the mark;

So I gave way under this heavy burden,
Gushing forth into bitter tears and sighs,
And the voice, fainting, flagged upon its passage.

SPRING.

FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES D'ORLEANS XV. CENTURY.

GENTLE Spring!-in sunshine clad,
Well dost thou thy power display!

For Winter maketh the light heart sad,

And thou-thou makest the sad heart gay.
He sees thee, and calls to his gloomy train,

The sleet, and the snow, and the wind, 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 nought 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,-
'Tis 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.
Wore not his cheek the apple's ruddy glow,

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 slept,-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 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. FROM THE DANISH OF JOHANNES

EVALD.

KING Christian stood by the lofty mast

In mist and smoke;

His sword was hammering so fast,
Through Gothic helm and brain it 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 roar,
"Now is the hour!"

"Fly!" shouted they, "for shelter, fly!
Of Denmark's Juel who can defy

The power?"