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, - thou makest the sad heart gay. And thou, 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 cover over the embers low; And, snugly housed from the wind and weather, 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 naught 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, 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!- Un close 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 be guile! Oh! when shall he, for whom I sigh in vain, Beside me watch to see thy waking smile? |