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High your deeds, and great your fame,

Heroes of the tomb!

Glancing through the carnage came

Many a dauntless plume. Terror of the Moorish foe,

Toggenburg, thou art!
But thy heart is heavy! oh,
Heavy is thy heart!

Heavy was the load his breast
For a twelvemonth bore;
Never can his trouble rest!
And he left the shore.
Lo! a ship on Joppa's strand,
Breeze and billow fair,-

On to that belovèd land

Where she breathes the air!

Knocking at the castle gate

Was the pilgrim heard;

Woe the answer from the grate!

Woe the thunder-word!

"She thou seekest lives - a Nun!

To the world she died

When, with yester-morning's sun,
Heaven received a Bride!"

From that day his father's hall

Ne'er his home may be;

Helm and hauberk, steed and all,
Evermore left he!

Where his castle-crownèd height
Frowns the valley down,

Dwells unknown the hermit knight,
In a sackcloth gown.

Rude the hut he built him there,
Where his eyes may view
Wall and cloister glisten fair

Dusky lindens through.

There when dawn was in the skies,
Till the eve-star shone,
Sate he with mute wistful eyes,
Sate he there alone!

Looking to the cloister still,
Looking forth afar,
Looking to her lattice till

Clinked the lattice bar.

Till a passing glimpse allowed-
Paused her image pale,

Calm and angel-mild, and bowed
Meekly towards the vale.

Then the watch of day was o'er;
Then, consoled awhile,

Down he lay, to greet once more
Morning's early smile.

Days and years are gone, and still
Looks he forth afar,
Uncomplaining, hoping-till
Clinks the lattice bar;

Tilla passing glimpse allowed-
Paused her image pale,
Calm and angel-mild, and bowed
Meekly towards the vale.

So upon that lonely spot

Sate he, dead at last,

With the look where life was not,

Towards the casement cast.

Bulwer's Translation.

THE SHARING OF THE EARTH

"TAK

AKE the world," cried the God from his heaven
To men
"I proclaim you its heirs;
To divide it amongst you 'tis given:

You have only to settle the shares."

Each takes for himself as it pleases,

Old and young have alike their desire:

The harvest the husbandman seizes;

Through the wood and the chase sweeps the squire.

The merchant his warehouse is locking;

The abbot is choosing his wine;

Cries the monarch, the thoroughfare blocking,
"Every toll for the passage is mine!"

All too late, when the sharing was over,
Comes the poet,- he came from afar;
Nothing left can the laggard discover,

Not an inch but its owners there are.

"Woe is me! is there nothing remaining

For the son who best loves thee alone!" Thus to Jove went his voice in complaining, As he fell at the Thunderer's throne.

"In the land of thy dreams if abiding,"

Quoth the God, "Canst thou murmur at me? Where wert thou when the earth was dividing?" "I was," said the poet, "by thee!

"Mine eye by thy glory was captured,
Mine ear by thy music of bliss:
Pardon him whom thy world so enraptured
As to lose him his portion in this!"

"Alas," said the God, "earth is given!
Field, forest, and market, and all!
What say you to quarters in heaven?
We'll admit you whenever you call!"

Bulwer's Translation.

THE BEST STATE

ow the best state to know? It is found out:

H

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The breakers are dashing with might, with might:
And she mingles her sighs with the gloomy night,
And her eyes are dim with tears.

"The earth is a desert,

And broken my heart,

Nor aught to my wishes

The world can impart.

Thou Holy One, call now thy child from below;

I have known all the joys that the world can bestow
I have lived and have loved."—

"In vain, oh how vainly,

Flows tear upon tear!
Human woe never waketh

Dull Death's heavy ear!

Yet say what can soothe for the sweet vanished love,
And I, the Celestial, will shed from above

The balm for thy breast."

Let ever, though vainly,

Flow tear upon tear;
Human woe never waketh

Dull Death's heavy ear:

Yet still when the heart mourns the sweet vanished love, No balm for its wound can descend from above

Like Love's sorrows and tears.

Bulwer's Translation.

THE MAIDEN FROM AFAR

ITHIN a vale each infant year,

WITH

When earliest larks first carol free,
To humble shepherds doth appear
A wondrous maiden fair to see.

Not born within that lowly place;

From whence she wandered, none could tell;

Her parting footsteps left no trace,

When once the maiden sighed farewell.

And blessed was her presence there:

Each heart, expanding, grew more gay;

Yet something loftier still than fair

Kept man's familiar looks away.

From fairy gardens known to none

She brought mysterious fruits and flowers;

The products of a brighter sun,

Of nature more benign than ours.

With each, her gifts the maiden shared,—
To some the fruits, the flowers to some:

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