TO-MORROW. 'Tis late at night, and in the realm of sleep My little lambs are folded like the flocks; From room to room I hear the wakeful clocks Challenge the passing hour, like guards that keep Their solitary watch on tower and steep; Far off I hear the crowing of the cocks, And through the opening door that time unlocks Feel the fresh breathing of To-morrow creep. To-morrow! the mysterious, unknown guest, Who cries to me: "Remember Barmecide, And tremble to be happy with the rest." And I make answer: "I am satisfied; I dare not ask; I know not what is best; God hath already said what shall betide.' DIVINA COMMEDIA. I. OFT have I seen at some cathedral door Far off the noises of the world retreat; And leave my burden at this minster gate, The tumult of the time disconsolate II. How strange the sculptures that adorn these towers! This crowd of statues, in whose folded sleeves Birds build their nests; while canopied with leaves Parvis and portal bloom like trellised bowers, And the vast minster seems a cross of flowers. But fiends and dragons on the gargoyled eaves Watch the dead Christ between the living thieves, And, underneath, the traitor Judas lowers. Ah! from what agonies of heart and brain, What exultations trampling on despair, What tenderness, what tears, what hate of wrong, What passionate outcry of a soul in pain, III. I ENTER, and I see thee in the gloom Of the long aisles, O poet saturnine! And strive to make my steps keep pace with thine. The air is filled with some unknown perfume; The congregation of the dead make room For thee to pass; the votive tapers shine; Like rooks that haunt Ravenna's groves of pine The hovering echoes fly from tomb to tomb. From the confessionals I hear arise Rehearsals of forgotten tragedies, And lamentations from the crypts below; And then a voice celestial, that begins. With the pathetic words, "Although your sins As scarlet be," and ends with “ as the snow." IV. WITH Snow-white veil and garments as of flame, She stands before thee, who so long ago Filled thy young heart with passion and the woe From which thy song and all its splendors came; And while with stern rebuke she speaks thy name, The ice about thy heart melts as the snow On mountain heights, and in swift overflow Comes gushing from thy lips in sobs of shame. Thou makest full confession; and a gleam, As of the dawn on some dark forest cast, Seems on thy lifted forehead to increase; Lethe and Eunoe the remembered dream And the forgotten sorrow bring at last That perfect pardon which is perfect peace. V. I LIFT mine eyes, and all the windows blaze No more rebukes, but smiles her words of praise. And then the organ sounds, and unseen choirs And the melodious bells among the spires O'er all the house-tops and through heaven above Proclaim the elevation of the Host. VI. O STAR of morning and of liberty! O bringer of the light, whose splendor shines The voices of the mountains and the pines, In their own language hear thy wondrous word, And many are amazed and many doubt. NOËL. ENVOTÉ M. AGASSIZ, LA VEILLE DE NOËL 1864, AVEO UN PANIER DE VINS DIVERS. QUAND les astres de Noël Brillaient, palpitaient au ciel, Allons donc chez Agassiz!” Ces illustres Pèlerins D'Outre-Mer adroits et fins, De Jean Rudolphe Agassiz!" Eil-de-Perdrix, grand farceur, J'ai dansé chez Agassiz!" Verzenay le Champenois, Bon Français, point New-Yorquois, J'ai chanté chez Agassiz!" À côté marchait un vieux J'ai diné chez Agassiz!" Derrière eux un Bordelais, Riait, chantait, plein de vie, J'ai soupé chez Agassiz!" Avec ce beau cadet roux, |