"The roads shall mourn and be veiled in gloom, So fair a corpse shall leave its home! Should mourn and should weep, ah, well-away! So fair a corpse shall pass to-day!" A CHRISTMAS CAROL.29 FROM THE NOEI BOURGUIGNON DE GUI BARŌZAI. I HEAR along our street On their hautboys, Christmas songs! Ever higher Sing them till the night expire! In December ring Every day the chimes; In the streets their merry rhymes. Ever higher Sing them till the night expire! Shepherds at the grange, Ever higher Sing them till the night expire! These good people sang There they stood with freezing feet. Ever higher Sing them till the night expire! Nuns in frigid cells At this holy tide, For want of something else, Ever higher Sing them till the night expire! Washerwomen old, To the sound they beat, With uncovered heads and feet. Let us by the fire Ever higher Sing them till the night expire! Then up speedily The Weather people On the land went, The sea-bark moored, Their mail-sarks shook, Their war-weeds. God thanked they, That to them the sea-journey Easy had been. Then from the wall beheld Bear o'er the balks War-gear wearing, 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 might. Ne'er saw I mightier Earl upon earth Than is your own, Hero in harness. Not seldom this warrior Your origin know, Ere ye forth As false spies Into the Land of the Danes Now, ye dwellers afar off! Listen to my Quickest is best To make known Whence your coming may be." THE SOUL'S COMPLAINT AGAINST THE BODY. FROM THE ANGLO-SAXON. MUCH it behoveth Each one of mortals, Long it is thenceforth The soul shall come That it erst dwelt in ;- 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 earth Thou all wearest away Like to the loam ! Little didst thou think SONG. FROM THE PORTUGESE. IF thou art sleeping, maiden, 'Tis the break of day, and we must away, Wait not to find thy slippers, But come with thy naked feet: We shall have to pass through the dewy grass, FRITHIOF'S HOMESTEAD. FROM THE SWEDISH. 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 reindeers 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 and 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-time. Twice twelve swift-footed coursers, mettlesome, fast-fettered stormwinds, Stamping stood in the line of stalls, all champing their fodder, Knotted with red their manes, and their hoofs all whitened with steel shoes. The banquet-hall, a house by itself, was timbered of hard fir. old man Wonders from far-distant lands he had seen, and cruises of Vikings Far on the Baltic and Sea of the West, and the North Sea. Hush sat the listening bench, and their glances hung on the graybeard's Lips, as a bee on the rose; but the Skald was thinking of Bragé, Mid-way the floor (with thatch was it strewn), burned for ever the fire-flame Glad on its stone-built hearth; and through the wide-mouthed smoke-flue Looked the stars, those heavenly friends, down into the great hall, But round the walls, upon nails of steel, were hanging in order Breastplate and helm with each other, and here and there in among them Downward lightened a sword, as in winter evening a star shoots. More than helmets and swords, the shields in the banquet-hall glistened, White as the orb of the sun, or white as the moon's disc of silver. Ever and anon went a maid round the board and filled up the drink-horns; Ever she cast down her eyes and blushed; in the shield her reflection Blushed too, even as she;-this gladdened the hard-drinking champions. FRITHIOF'S TEMPTATION. FROM THE SWEDISH. SPRING is coming, birds are twittering, forests leaf, and smiles the sun, Swarming in its gorgeous splendour is assembled all the court; And the ancient king so trustful laid on Frithiof's knees his head; On his shield, calm as an infant sleepeth in its mother's arms. |