English

The sky threatens, the clouds burst
And suddenly the tempest rolls the waves
Like a very river ...

The storm becomes intensified;
The sea springs up, roaring, howling.

Then the tempest calms ... The waves flee,
And the torrent becomes only a little stream ...

Some drops of shining water sweetly sing,
And glide away like pearls among the leaves.

The sand beds become dry again and parched
As they were in the torrid days ...

But still one hears the sound of dripping water

Since she, by whom her people all live blest,
To sorrow's reign, has giv'n her ruling breast,
Grief should be loudly heard, as well as seen,
To noise his death, and mourn our widow'd queen.
The friends of Anna must not, silent, weep;
Of streams, 'tis said, the gentlest are most deep!
But grief is passion , and, where passion reigns,
Nature scorns decency, and breaks her chains:
Like some fierce wind-driv'n show'r, true grief appears;
'Tis but a breeze , that is allay'd, by tears .
She does, indeed, with sighs, and tears, complain,

See, my well beloved, I bring thee
This flow'r, whose petals float
Upon the silent waters, while the waves
Rock it into Springtime dreams ...

Dost wish to take it with thee?
To adorn thy breast, my beloved?
Under the leaves it shall be hidden
In a profoundly silent sea ...

Child, be careful not to dream
Too near the dangerous waves.
The little riplets are feigning sleep
Beneath the entangled lilies ...

Your breast is the light wave,
'Tis dangerous to draw near it!

I called thee my fairy,
I named thee my star —
Good God, thou art all these in truth.
Alas, a fugitive fairy,
A star, a fleeing star
That is dimming in the distance!

What need to speak of Love? For Love
Is all the world, as thou and I, True Heart,
Found out long since. And Work? Against the years
God gave us Work, that out of pointless space
Each man might hew His purpose, and be glad.

Late a Council of Gods from their heavenly abodes
Were call'd on Olympus to meet;
Jove gave his commands from his throne in the clouds:
Attend, and his words I'll repeat.
Ye know, all ye Pow'rs that attend my high Throne,
Your Will to my Pleasure must bow:
I will, that those Gifts which you prize as your own,
Shall now be bestow'd on my Howe .

Astraea , who long since had quitted the Earth,

Lord! Thou art just, I am a sinful man,
Thou art as fire, and I as to tow, how can
We meet together, but I needs must be
Consum'd to dust and ashes strait by Thee?
Since I so frail am, Thou so furious art,
Have I not cause to pray Thee Lord depart?

Yet Thou art merciful as well as just,
And he from whom Thou partest perish must.
As I do fear Thy justice, so do I
Thy mercie want to help my miserie;
Have I not then far greater cause to pray
That Thou wouldst not depart, but with me stay?

S UPERSCRIPTION .

Go, happy letter! go,
Into his hands, whom I adore, go, fly!
And, if he asks for me , tell him I die!

[ALFRED DE MUSSET]

In only ten years from to-day
Thou wilt, perchance, less unkind be.
In truth 'tis somewhat far away,
But love will come to thee to stay,
And make winged youth but faster flee.
Thy loveliness bewitches me.
Ah guard it carefully, therefore,
I shall have gladder word of thee
In ten years more.

When the time comes, Oh, I implore
To be thy sweetheart, if I may;
I shall be perfect, faithful, for
I do not like inconstancy, —
And thou far lovelier then will be

Come, ye brave, by Fortune wounded
More than by the vaunting Foe,
Chear your hearts, ne'er be confounded;
Trials all must undergo.
Tho' without or Rhyme or Reason
Hurried back thro' Wilds unknown,
Virtue's smiles can make a Prison
Far more charming than a Throne.
Think not, tho' wretched, poor, or naked,
Your breast alone the Load sustains:
Sympathizing Hearts partake it —
Britain's Monarch shares your Pains.
This Night of Pride and Folly over,
A dawn of Hope will soon appear.
In its light you shall discover