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 Wrap him round with a mantle of cloud; But, Heaven be praised, thy step is nigh;

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.

SWEET babe! true portrait of thy father's face, Sleep on the bosom, that thy lips have pressed!

Sleep, little one; and closely, gently place Thy drowsy eyelid on thy mother's breast.

Upon that tender eye, my little friend,

Soft sleep shall come, that cometh not to

mel

I watch to see thee, nourish thee, defend ;

'Tis sweet to watch for thee,-alone for

thee!

124

TRANSLATIONS.

His arms fall down; sleep sits upon his brow; His eye is closed; he sleeps, nor dreams of harm.

Wore not his check the apple's ruddy glow, Would you not say he slept on Death's cold arm?.

Awake, my boy!-I tremble with affright! Awake, and chase this fatal thought!Unclose

Thine eye

but for one moment on the light! Even at the price of thine, give me repose!

Sweet error!-he but slept, I breathe

again;

Come, gentle dreams, the hour of sleep beguile!

O! when shall he, for whom I sigh in vain,

Beside me watch to see thy waking smile?

THE GRAVE.

FROM THE ANGLO-SAXON.

FOR thee was a house built

Ere thou wert born,

For thee was a mould mean!

Ere thou of mother camest.

But it is not made ready,

Nor its depth measured.

Nor is it seen

How long it shall be.

Now I bring thee

Where thou shalt be;

Now I shall measure thee,

And the mould afterwards.

Thy house is not Highly timbered,

It is unhigh and low;

When thou art therein.

The heel-ways are low.

The side-ways unhigh.

The roof is built

Thy breast full nigh,

So thou shalt in mould

Dwell full cold,

Dimly and dark.

Doorless is that house,

And dark it is within;

There thou art fast detained

And Death hath the key. Loathsome is that earth-house,

And grim within to dwell.

There thou shalt dwell,

And worms shall divide thee.