Confusion and dismay, together mingled, Even as a cross-bow breaks, when 't is discharged, Too tensely drawn the bow-string and the bow, And with less force the arrow hits the mark; So I gave way under this heavy burden, And the voice, fainting, flagged upon its passage. SPRING. FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES D'ORLEANS. XV. CENTURY. GENTLE Spring! — in sunshine clad, And thou, thou makest the sad heart gay. He sees thee, and calls to his gloomy train, The sleet, and the snow, and the wind, and the rain; And they shrink away, and they flee in fear, When thy merry step draws near. 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, Winter maketh the sun in the gloomy sky When thy merry step draws near. THE CHILD ASLEEP. FROM THE FRENCH. SWEET babe! true portrait of thy father's face, Sleep, little one; and closely, gently place Upon that tender eye, my little friend, Soft sleep shall come, that cometh not to me! I watch to see thee, nourish thee, defend ; 'T is sweet to watch for thee,—alone for thee! His arms fall down; sleep sits upon his brow; His eye is closed; he sleeps, nor dreams of harm. Wore not his cheek the apple's ruddy glow, Would you not say he slept on Death's cold arm? Awake, my boy !— I tremble with affright! 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? |