"The winds and the waves of ocean,

Had they a merry chime?

Didst thou hear, from those lofty chambers,
The harp and the minstrel's rhyme?"-

"Well saw I the ancient parents,

Without the crown of pride:

They were moving slow, in weeds of woe;
No maiden was by their side!"

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But the younger, brighter form
Passed in battle and in storm.

So, whene'er I turn my eye

Back upon the days gone by,

Saddening thoughts of friends come o'er me,—
Friends that closed their course before me.

But what binds us, friend to friend,
But that soul with soul can blend?
Soul-like were those hours of yore:
Let us walk in soul once more.

Take, O boatman, thrice thy fee,-
Take, I give it willingly;

For, invisible to thee,

Spirits twain have crossed with me.

Translation of Sarah Taylor Austin.

THE NUN

IN THE silent cloister garden,
Beneath the pale moonshine,
There walked a lovely maiden,

And tears were in her eyne.

"Now, God be praised! my loved one
Is with the blest above:

Now man is changed to angel,

And angels I may love."

She stood before the altar
Of Mary, mother mild,
And on the holy maiden
The Holy Virgin smiled.

Upon her knees she worshiped

And prayed before the shrine,

And heavenward looked-till Death came

And closed her weary eyne.

From the Foreign Quarterly Review.

Into my bosom's deepness,

Oh, could thine eye but see, Where all the songs are sleeping That God e'er gave to me! There would thine eye perceive it, If aught of good be mine,Although I may not name thee,That aught of good is thine.

From the Foreign Quarterly Review.