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Take care of Paul; I feel that I am dying !!
Come in! The bride will be here soon:
And qnick recoiled, aghast, faint-hearted;
Her steps towards the open door;
Touches the crown of filigrane
She walks, as for a feast arrayed,
At length the bell,
Sends forth, resounding round,
It is broad day, with sunshine and with rain;
And with it brings the village throng.
But she must calm that giddy head,
At the holy table stands the priest;
He must pronounce one word at least!
And while the wedding-guests all hold their breath,
And calmly in the air a knife suspended !
For anguish did its work so well,
Lifeless she fell!
At eve, instead of bridal verse,
Nowhere was a smile that day,
“The roads shall mourn and be veiled in gloom,
So fair a corpse shall leave its home!
FROM THE FRENCH OF FÉLIX ARVERS.
My soul its secret hath, my life too hath its mystery,
TRANSLATIONS FROM THE ANGLO-SAXON.
THE GRAVE. For thee was a house built
Dwell full cold,
Dimly and dark.
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.
There thou shalt dwell,
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
Then went over the sea-waves,
Then from the wall beheld The warden of the Scyldings, He who the sea-cliffs
Had in his keeping,
Went then to the shore,
"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.
That it erst dwelt in;
Three hundred winters,
Unless ere that worketh
The eternal Lord,
The Almighty God,
The end of the world.
Crieth then, so care-worn,
With cold utterance,
And speaketh grimly,
The ghost to the dust :
“ Dry dust ! thou dreary one!
How little didst thou labour for me!
In the foulness of eartb
Thou all wearest away
Like to the loam!
Little didst thou think
How thy soul's journey
Would be thereafter,
When from the body
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