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Take care of Paul; I feel that I am dying !!
And thou, and he, and I, all fell to crying?
Then on the roof the osprey screamed aloud;
And here they brought our father in his shroud.
There is his grave; there stands the cross we set;
Why dost thon clasp me so, dear Margaret?

Come in! The bride will be here soon:
Thou tremblest! O my God! thou art going to swoon!"
She could no more,—the blind girl, weak and weary!
A voice seemed crying from that grave so dreary,
“What wouldst thou do, my daughter!”-and she started;

And qnick recoiled, aghast, faint-hearted;
But Paul, impatient, urges ever more

Her steps towards the open door;
And when, beneath her feet, the unhappy maid
Crushes the laurel near the house immortal,
And with her head, as Paul talks on again,

Touches the crown of filigrane
Suspended from the low-arched portal,
No more restrained, no more afraid,

She walks, as for a feast arrayed,
And in the ancient chapel's sombre night
They both are lost to sight.

At length the bell,
With booming sound,

Sends forth, resounding round,
Its hymeneal peal o'er rock and down the dell.

It is broad day, with sunshine and with rain;
And yet the guests delay not long,
For soon arrives the bridal train,

And with it brings the village throng.
In sooth, deceit maketh no mortal gay,
For lo! Baptiste on this triumphant day,
Mute as an idiot, sad as yester-morning,
Thinks only of the beldame's words of warning.
And Angela thinks of her cross, I wis;
To be a bride is all! The pretty lisper
Feels her heart swell to hear all round her whisper,
“How beautiful! how beautiful she is !”

But she must calm that giddy head,
For already the Mass is said;

At the holy table stands the priest;
The wedding ring is blessed; Baptiste receives it;
Ere on the finger of the bride he leaves it,

He must pronounce one word at least!
'Tis spoken; and sndden at the groomsman's side
'Tis he!” a well-known voice has cried.

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And while the wedding-guests all hold their breath,
Opes the confessional, and the blind girl, see !
“Baptiste," she said, “ since thou hast wished my death,
As holy water be my blood for thee!”

And calmly in the air a knife suspended !
Doubtless her guardian angel near attended,

For anguish did its work so well,
That, ere the fatal stroke descended,

Lifeless she fell!

At eve, instead of bridal verse,
The De Profundis filled the air;
Decked with flowers a single hearse
To the churchyard forth they bear;
Village girls in robes of snow
Follow, weeping as they go;

Nowhere was a smile that day,
No, ah no! for each one seemed to say :-

“The roads shall mourn and be veiled in gloom,

So fair a corpse shall leave its home!
Should mourn and should weep, ah, well-away
So fair a corpse shall pass to-day !”

MY SECRET.

FROM THE FRENCH OF FÉLIX ARVERS.

My soul its secret hath, my life too hath its mystery,
A love eternal in a moment's space conceived;
Hopeless the evil is, I have not told its history,
And she who was the cause nor knew it nor believed.
Alas! I shall have passed close by her unperceived,
For ever at her side and yet for ever lonely,
I shall unto the end have made life's journey, only
Daring to ask for nought, and having nought received.
For her, though God hath made her gentle and endearing,
She will go on her way distraught and without hearing
These murmurings of love that round her steps ascend,
Piously faithful still unto her austere duty,
Will say, when she shall read these lines full of her beauty,
“Who can this woman be?” and will not comprehend.

TRANSLATIONS FROM THE ANGLO-SAXON.

THE GRAVE. For thee was a house built

Dwell full cold,
Ere thou wast born,

Dimly and dark.
For thee was a mould meant
Ere thou of mother camest.

Doorless is that house,

And dark it is within ; But it is not made ready,

There thou art fast detained, Nor its depth measured,

And death hath the key. Nor is it seen

Loathsome is that earth-house, How long it shall be.

And grim within to dwell.
Now I bring thee

There thou shalt dwell,
Where thou shalt be;
Now I sball measure thee,

And worms shall divide thee. And the mould afterwards.

Thus thou art laid,

And leavest thy friends; Thy house is not

Thou hast no friend Highly timbered,

Who will come to thee, It is unhigh and low;

Who will ever see When thou art therein,

How that house pleaseth thee; The heel-ways are low,

Who will ever open The side-ways unhigh.

The door for thee The roof is built

And descend after thee, Thy breast full nigh,

For soon thou art loathsome So thou shalt in mould

And hateful to see.

BEOWULF'S EXPEDITION TO HEORT. Thus then, much care-worn,

Noble and stalwart. The son of Healfden'

He bade him a sea-ship, Sorrowed evermore,

A goodly one, prepare. Nor might the prudent hero

Quoth be, the war-king, His woes avert.

Over the swan's road, The war was too hard,

Seek he would Too loath and longsome,

The mighty monarch, That on the people came,

Since he wanted men. Dire wrath and grim,

For him that journey Of night-woes the worst.

His prudent fellows This from home heard

Straight made ready, Higelac's Thane,

Those that loved him. Good among the Goths,

They excited their souls Grendel's deeds.

The omen they beheld. He was of mankind

Had the good-man In might the strongest,

Of the Gothic people At that day

Champions chosen, Of this life,

Of those that keenest

He might find
Some fifteen men.
The sea-wood sought he,
The warrior showed,
Sea-crafty man!
The landmarks,
And first went forth.
The ship was on the waves,
Boat under the cliffs.
The barons ready
To the prow mounted.
The streams they wbirled
The sea against the sands.
The chieftains bore
On the naked breast
Bright ornaments,
War-gear, Goth-like.
The men shoved off,
Men on their willing way,
The bounden wood.

Then went over the sea-waves,
Hurried by the wind,
The ship with foamy neck
Most like a sea-fowl,
Till about one hour
Of the second day
The curved prow
Had passed onward
So that the sailors
The land saw,
The shore-cliffs shining,
Mountains steep,
And broad sea-noses.
Then was the sea-sailing
Of the earl at an end.
Then up speedily
The Weather people
On the land went,
The sea-bark moored,
Their mail-sarks shook,
Their war-weeds.
God thanked they,
That to them the sea-journey
Easy had been,

Then from the wall beheld The warden of the Scyldings, He who the sea-cliffs

Had in his keeping,
Bear o'er the balks
The bright shields,
The war-weapons speedily.
Him the doubt disturbed
In his mind's thought,
What these men might be.

Went then to the shore,
On his steed riding,
The Thane of Hrothgar.
Before the host he shook
His warden's staff in hand,
In measured words demanded :

"What men are ye War-gear wearing, Host in harness, Who thus the brown keel Over the water-street Leading come Hither over the sea ? I these boundaries As shore-warden hold; That in the Land of the Danes Nothing loathsome With a ship-crew Scathe us night. ... Ne'er saw I mightier Earl upon earth Than is your own, Hero in harness. Not seldom this warrior Is in weapons distinguished ; Never bis beauty belies him, His peerless countenance ! Now would I fain Your origin know, Ere ye forth As false spies Into the Land of the Danes Farther fare. Now, ye dwellers afar off ! Ye sailors of the sea ! Listen to my One-fold thought. Quickest is best To make known Whence your coming may be."

THE SOUL'S COMPLAINT AGAINST THE BODY.
Much it behoveth

The body
Each one of mortals,

That it erst dwelt in;
That he his soul's journey

Three hundred winters,
In himself ponder,

Unless ere that worketh
How deep it may be.

The eternal Lord,
When Death cometh,

The Almighty God,
The bonds he breaketh

The end of the world.
By which united
Were body and soul.

Crieth then, so care-worn,

With cold utterance,
Long it is thenceforth

And speaketh grimly,
Ere the soul taketh

The ghost to the dust :
From God himself

“ Dry dust ! thou dreary one!
Its woe or its weal;

How little didst thou labour for me!
As in the world erst,

In the foulness of eartb
Even in its earth-vessel,

Thou all wearest away
It wrought before.

Like to the loam!

Little didst thou think
The soul shall come

How thy soul's journey
Wailing with loud voice,

Would be thereafter,
After a sennight,

When from the body
The soul, to find

It should be led forth."

TRANSLATIONS FROM THE SWEDISH.

FRITHIOF'S HOMESTEAD. THREE miles extended around the fields of the homestead; on three

sides Valleys, and mountains, and hills, but on the fourth side was the ocean. Birch-woods crowned the summits, but over the down-sloping hill-sides Flourished the golden corn, and man-high was waving the rye-field. Lakes, full many in number, their mirror held up for the mountains, Held for the forests up, in whose depths the high-antlered reindeer Had their kingly walk, and drank of a hundred brooklets. But in the valleys, full widely around, there fed on the greensward Herds with sleek, shining sides, and udders that longed for the milk-pail. 'Mid these were scattered, now here aud now there, a vast countless

number Of white-wooled sheep, as thou seest the white-looking stray clouds, Flock-wise, spread o'er the heavenly vault, when it bloweth in spring

time.

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