THE GOOD SHEPHERD. FROM THE SPANISH OF LOPE DE VEGA. SHEPHERD! that with thine amorous, sylvan song Hast broken the slumber which encompassed me, That mad'st thy crook from the accursed tree, On which thy powerful arms were stretched so long! Lead me to mercy's ever-flowing fountains; For thou my shepherd, guard, and guide shalt be; I will obey thy voice, and wait to see Thy feet all beautiful upon the mountains. Hear, Shepherd!-thou who for thy flock art dying, O, wash away these scarlet sins, for thou O, wait!-to thee my weary soul is crying,- TO-MORROW. FROM THE SPANISH OF LOPE DE VEGA. LORD, what am I, that, with unceasing care, Has chilled the bleeding wounds upon thy feet. How oft my guardian angel gently cried, "Soul, from thy casement look, and thou shalt see How he persists to knock and wait for thee!" And oh how often to that voice of sorrow, "To-morrow we will open," I replied, And when the morrow came, I answered still, "To-morrow." THE NATIVE LAND. FROM THE SPANISH OF FRANCISCO DE ALDANA. CLEAR fount of light! my native land on high, There dwells the soul in its ethereal essence, |