Confusion and dismay, together mingled, Even as a cross-bow breaks, when 't is discharged, Too tensely drawn the bow-string and the bow, And with less force the arrow hits the mark; So I gave way under this heavy burden, And the voice, fainting, flagged upon its passage. SPRING. FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES D'ORLEANS. XV. CENTURY. GENTLE Spring! — in sunshine clad, For Winter maketh the light heart sad, And thou, thou makest the sad heart gay. 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 cower over the embers low; And, snugly housed from the wind and weather, Mope like birds that are changing feather. But the storm retires, and the sky grows clear, When thy merry step draws near. Winter maketh the sun in the gloomy sky Thou tearest away the mournful shroud, And the earth looks bright, and Winter surly, Who has toiled for nought both late and early, Is banished afar by the new-born year, When thy merry step draws near. THE CHILD ASLEEP. FROM THE FRENCH OF CLOTILDE DE SURVILLE. XV. CENTURY. SWEET babe! true portrait of thy father's face, Sleep, little one; and closely, gently place Upon that tender eye, my little friend, Soft sleep shall come, that cometh not to me! I watch to see thee, nourish thee, defend ; 'T is sweet to watch for thee,-alone for thee. His arms fall down; sleep sits upon his brow; Awake, my boy! I tremble with affright! Sweet error!-he but slept,—I breathe again;- Beside me watch to see thy waking smile? |