THE LEGEND OF THE CROSSBILL.

FROM JULIUS MOSEN.

ON the cross the dying Saviour
Heavenward lifts his eyelids calm,
Feels, but scarcely feels, a trembling
In his pierced and bleeding palm.

And by all the world forsaken,
Sees he how with zealous care
At the ruthless nail of iron

A little bird is striving there.

Stained with blood and never tiring,
With its beak it doth not cease,
From the cross 'twould free the Saviour,
Its Creator's Son release.

And the Saviour speaks in mildness;
"Blest be thou of all the good!

Bear, as token of this moment,

Marks of blood and holy rood!"

And that bird is called the crossbill;
Covered all with blood so clear.

In the groves of pine it singeth

Songs, like legends, strange to hear.

POETIC APHORISMS.

FROM THE SINNGEDICHTE OF FRIEDRICH VON LOGAU.-

SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

MONEY.

WHEREUNTO is money good?

Who has it not wants hardihood,

Who has it has much trouble and care,
Who once has had it has despair.

THE BEST MEDICINES.

Joy and Temperance and Repose
Slam the door on the doctor's nose.

SIN.

Man-like is it to fall into sin,
Fiend-like is it to dwell therein,
Christ-like is it for sin to grieve,
God-like is it all sin to leave.

LAW OF LIFE.

Live I, so live I,

To my Lord heartily,
To my Prince faithfully,
To my Neighbour honestly.
Die I, so die I.

POVERTY AND BLINDNESS.

A blind man is a poor man, and blind a poor man is;
For the former seeth no man, and the latter no man sees.

CREEDS.

Lutheran, Popish, Calvinistic, all these creeds and doctrines three Extant are; but still the doubt is, where Christianity may be.

THE RESTLESS HEART.

A millstone and the human heart, are driven ever round;
If they have nothing else to grind, they must themselves be ground.

CHRISTIAN LOVE.

Whilom Love was like a fire, and warmth and comfort it bespoke; But, alas! it is now quenched, and only bites us, like the smoke.

ART AND TACT.

Intelligence and courtesy not always are combined;
Often in a wooden house a golden room we find.

RETRIBUTION.

Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small; Though with patience He stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all.

TRUTH.

When by night the frogs are croaking, Kindle but a torch's fire, Ha! how soon they all are silent! Thus Truth silences the liar.

RHYMES.

If perhaps these rhymes of mine should sound not well in strangers'

ears,

They have only to bethink them that it happens so with theirs;
For so long as words, like mortals, call a fatherland their own,
Thev will be most highly valued where they are best and longest known.

THE SEA HATH ITS PEARLS.

FROM HEINRICH HEINE.

THE sea hath its pearls,

The heaven hath its stars;

But my heart, my heart,

My heart hath its love.

Great are the sea and the heaven;
Yet greater is my heart,
And fairer than pearls and stars
Flashes and beams my love.

Thou little, youthful maiden,

Come unto my great heart;

My heart, and the sea, and the heaven,
Are melting away with love!

SONG OF THE SILENT LAND.

FROM SALIS.

INTO the Silent Land!

Ah! who shall lead us thither ?

Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather,
And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand.

Who leads us with a gentle hand

Thither, O thither,

Into the Silent Land?

Into the Silent Land!

To you, ye boundless regions

Of all perfection! Tender morning-visions

Of beauteous souls! The Future's pledge and band! Who in Life's battle firm doth stand,

Shall bear Hope's tender blossoms

Into the Silent Land!

O Land! O Land!

For all the broken-hearted

The mildest herald by our faith allotted,

Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand

To lead us with a gentle hand

Into the land of the great Departed,

Into the Silent Land!

BLESSED ARE THE DEAD.

O, HOW blest are ye whose toils are ended!
Who, through death, have unto God ascended!
Ye have arisen

From the cares which keep us still in prison.

We are still as in a dungeon living,

Still oppressed with sorrow and misgiving;
Our undertakings

Are but toils, and troubles, and heart-breakings.

Ye, meanwhile, are in your chambers sleeping,
Quiet, and set free from all our weeping;

No cross nor trial

Hinders your enjoyments with denial.

Christ has wiped away your tears for ever;
Ye have that for which we still endeavour.
To you are chanted

Songs which yet no mortal ear have haunted.

Ah! who would not, then, depart with gladness,
To inherit heaven for earthly sadness?

Who here would languish

Longer in bewailing and in anguish?

Come, O Christ, and loose the chains that bind us!
Lead us forth, and cast this world behind us!

With thee, the Anointed,

Finds the soul its joy and rest appointed.

"I greet thee, bonny boat! Whither, or whence With thy fluttering golden band ?"

"I greet thee, little bird! To the wide sea I haste from the narrow land.

"Full and swollen is every sail;
I see no longer a hill,

I have trusted all to the sounding gale,
And it will not let me stand still.

"And wilt thou, little bird, go with us?
Thou mayest stand on the mainmast tall,
For full to sinking is my house
With merry companions all."—

I need not and seek not company,

Bonny boat, I can sing all alone;

For the mainmast tall too heavy am I,
Bonny boat, I have wings of my own.

High over the sails, high over the mast,
Who shall gainsay these joys?

When thy merry companions are still, at last
Thou shalt hear the sound of my voice.

"Who neither may rest, nor listen may,
God bless them every one!

I dart away, in the bright blue day,
And the golden fields of the sun.

"Thus do I sing my weary song,

Wherever the four winds blow;
And this same song, my whole life long,
Neither Poet nor Printer may know."