Love'S Treacherous Pool

("Jeune fille, l'amour c'est un miroir.")

[XXVI., February, 1835.]

Young maiden, true love is a pool all mirroring clear, Where coquettish girls come to linger in long delight, For it banishes afar from the face all the clouds that besmear The soul truly bright; But tempts you to ruffle its surface; drawing your foot To subtilest sinking! and farther and farther the brink That vainly you snatch--for repentance, 'tis weed without root,-- And struggling, you sink!

THE ROSE AND THE GRAVE.

("La tombe dit à la rose.")

[XXXI., June 3, 1837]

The Grave said to the rose "What of the dews of dawn, Love's flower, what end is theirs?" "And what of spirits flown, The souls whereon doth close The tomb's mouth unawares?" The Rose said to the Grave.

The Rose said: "In the shade From the dawn's tears is made A perfume faint and strange, Amber and honey sweet." "And all the spirits fleet Do suffer a sky-change, More strangely than the dew, To God's own angels new," The Grave said to the Rose.

A. LANG.

LES RAYONS ET LES OMBRES.--1840.

HOLYROOD PALACE.

("O palais, sois bénié.")

[II., June, 1839.]

Palace and ruin, bless thee evermore! Grateful we bow thy gloomy tow'rs before; For the old King of France hath found in thee That melancholy hospitality Which in their royal fortune's evil day, Stuarts and Bourbons to each other pay.

Fraser's Magazine.

THE HUMBLE HOME.

("L'église est vaste et haute.")

[IV., June 29, 1839.]

The Church is vast; its towering pride, its steeples loom on high; The bristling stones with leaf and flower are sculptured wondrously; The portal glows resplendent with its "rose," And 'neath the vault immense at evening swarm Figures of angel, saint, or demon's form, As oft a fearful world our dreams disclose. But not the huge Cathedral's height, nor yet its vault sublime, Nor porch, nor glass, nor streaks of light, nor shadows deep with time; Nor massy towers, that fascinate mine eyes; No, 'tis that spot--the mind's tranquillity-- Chamber wherefrom the song mounts cheerily, Placed like a joyful nest well nigh the skies.

Yea! glorious is the Church, I ween, but Meekness dwelleth here; Less do I love the lofty oak than mossy nest it bear; More dear is meadow breath than stormy wind: And when my mind for meditation's meant, The seaweed is preferred to the shore's extent,-- The swallow to the main it leaves behind.

Author of "Critical Essays."

THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.

("O dix-huitième siècle!")

[IV. vi]

O Eighteenth Century! by Heaven chastised! Godless thou livedst, by God thy doom was fixed. Thou in one ruin sword and sceptre mixed, Then outraged love, and pity's claim despised. Thy life a banquet--but its board a scaffold at the close, Where far from Christ's beatic reign, Satanic deeds arose! Thy writers, like thyself, by good men scorned-- Yet, from thy crimes, renown has decked thy name, As the smoke emplumes the furnace flame, A revolution's deeds have thine adorned!

Author of "Critical Essays."

STILL BE A CHILD.

("O vous que votre âge défende")

[IX., February, 1840.]

In youthful spirits wild, Smile, for all beams on thee; Sport, sing, be still the child, The flower, the honey-bee.

Bring not the future near, For Joy too soon declines-- What is man's mission here? Toil, where no sunlight shines!

Our lot is hard, we know; From eyes so gayly beaming, Whence rays of beauty flow, Salt tears most oft are streaming.

Free from emotions past, All joy and hope possessing, With mind in pureness cast, Sweet ignorance confessing.

Plant, safe from winds and showers, Heart with soft visions glowing, In childhood's happy hours A mother's rapture showing.

Loved by each anxious friend, No carking care within-- When summer gambols end, My winter sports begin.

Sweet poesy from heaven Around thy form is placed, A mother's beauty given, By father's thought is graced!

Seize, then, each blissful second, Live, for joy sinks in night, And those whose tale is reckoned, Have had their days of light.

Then, oh! before we part, The poet's blessing take, Ere bleeds that aged heart, Or child the woman make.

Dublin University Magazine.

THE POOL AND THE SOUL.

("Comme dans les étangs.")

[X., May, 1839.]

As in some stagnant pool by forest-side, In human souls two things are oft descried; The sky,--which tints the surface of the pool With all its rays, and all its shadows cool; The basin next,--where gloomy, dark and deep, Through slime and mud black reptiles vaguely creep.