"It avails not," Frithiof answered; "in the North are other swords; Sharp, O monarch, is the sword's tongue, and it speaks not peace ful words, Murky spirits dwell in steel-blades, spirits from the Niffelhem, Slumber is not safe before them, silver locks but anger them." Spanish. COPLAS DE MANRIQUE. OH, let the soul her slumbers break, How soon this life is past and gone, Swiftly our pleasures glide away, With many sighs; The moments that are speeding fast We heed not, but the past,-the past, More highly prize. Onward its course the present keeps, Onward the constant current sweeps, Till life is done; And, did we judge of time aright, Let no one fondly dream again, That Hope and all her shadowy train N Fleeting as were the dreams of old, Our lives are rivers, gliding free Thither, all earthly pomp and boast Thither the mighty torrents stray, There all are equal. Side by side I will not here invoke the throng The deathless few; Fiction entices and deceives, And sprinkled o'er her fragrant leaves To One alone my thoughts arise, The Eternal Truth,-the Good and Wise, To Him I cry, Who shared on earth our common lot, But the world comprehended not This world is but the rugged road So let us choose that narrow way Our cradle is the starting-place, In life we run the onward race, And reach the goal; When, in the mansions of the blest, Death leaves to its eternal rest The weary soul. Did we but use it as we ought, This world would school each wandering thought To its high state. Faith wings the soul beyond the sky, Up to that better world on high, For which we wait. Yes, the glad messenger of love, Born amid mortal cares and fears, Behold of what delusive worth The bubbles we pursue on earth, The shapes we chase, Amid a world of treachery! They vanish ere death shuts the eye, And leave no trace. Time steals them from us,-chances strange, Disastrous accidents, and change, That come to all; Even in the most exalted state, Relentless sweeps the stroke of fate; The strongest fall. Tell me, the charms that lovers seek The hues that play O'er rosy lip and brow of snow, When hoary age approaches slow, Ah, where are they? The cunning skill, the curious arts, The glorious strength that youth imparts In life's first stage; These shall become a heavy weight, When Time swings wide his outward gate To weary age. The noble blood of Gothic name, Fears not the wingèd crowd, in the midst of them all is her homestead. Therefore love and believe; for works will follow spontaneous, Even as day does the sun; the right from the good is an offspring, Love in a bodily shape; and Christian works are no more than Animate love and faith, as flowers are the animate spring-tide. Works do follow us all unto God; there stand and bear witness Not what they seemed, but what they were only. Blessed is he who Hears their confession secure; they are mute upon earth until death's hand Opens the mouth of the silent. Ye children, does death e'er alarm you? Death is the brother of love, twin-brother is he, and is only More austere to behold. With a kiss upon lips that are fading Death is only release, and in mercy is mute. On his bosom Meanwhile forget not the keeping of vows, forget not the promise, God of the Universe, hear me ! thou fountain of love everlasting, Hark to the voice of thy servant! I send up my prayer to thy heaven! Let me hereafter not miss at thy throne one spirit of all these, Whom thou hast given me here! I have loved them all like a father. May they bear witness for me, that I taught them the way of salvation, Faithful so far as I knew of thy word; again may they know me, Fall on their Teacher's breast, and before thy face may I place them, Pure as they now are, but only more tried, and exclaiming with gladness, Father, lo! I am here, and the children whom thou hast given me!" Weeping he spake in these words; and now at the beck of the old man Knee against knee they knitted a wreath round the altar's enclo sure. Kneeling he read then the prayers of the consecration, and softly With him the children read; at the close with tremulous accents, Asked he the peace of heaven, a benediction upon them. Now should have ended his task for the day; the following Sun day Was for the young appointed to eat of the Lord's holy Supper. Sudden, as struck from the clouds, stood the Teacher silent, and laid his Hand on his forehead, and cast his looks upward; while thoughts high and holy Flew through the midst of his soul, and his eyes glanced with wonderful brightness. "On the next Sunday, who knows! perhaps I shall rest in the grave-yard! Some one perhaps of yourselves, a lily broken untimely, Bow down his head to the earth; why delay I? the hour is accom plished. Warm is the heart;-I will so! for to-day grows the harvest of heaven. What I began accomplish I now; for what failing therein is Far has wandered from God, from his essence. "Twas in the be ginning Fast by the tree of knowledge he fell, and it hangs its crown o'er the Fall to this day; in the thought is the fall; in the heart the atonement. Infinite is the fall, the atonement infinite likewise. See! behind me, as far as the old man remembers, and forward, Far as Hope in her flight can reach with her wearied pinions, |