BEATRICE.

FROM DANTE. PURGATORIO, XXX., XXXI.

EVEN as the Blessed, in the new covenant,

Shall rise up quickened, each one from his grave, Wearing again the garments of the flesh,

So, upon that celestial chariot,

A hundred rose ad vocem tanti senis,
Ministers and messengers of life eternal.

They all were saying; "Benedictus qui venis,” And scattering flowers above and round about, "Manibus o date lilia plenis."

I once beheld, at the approach of day,
The orient sky all stained with roseate hues,
And the other heaven with light serene adorned,

And the sun's face uprising, overshadowed,
So that, by temperate influence of vapors,
The eye sustained his aspect for long while;

Thus in the bosom of a cloud of flowers,
Which from those hands angelic were thrown up,
And down descended inside and without,

With crown of olive o'er a snow-white veil,

Appeared a lady, under a green mantle,

Vested in colors of the living flame.

*

Even as the snow, among the living rafters
Upon the back of Italy, congeals,

Blown on and beaten by Sclavonian winds,

And then, dissolving, filters through itself, Whene'er the land, that loses shadow, breathes, Like as a taper melts before a fire,

Even such I was, without a sigh or tear,
Before the song of those who chime for ever
After the chiming of the eternal spheres ;

But, when I heard in those sweet melodies. Compassion for me, more than had they said, "O wherefore, lady, dost thou thus consume him?"

The ice, that was about my heart congealed,
To air and water changed, and, in my anguish,
Through lips and eyes came gushing from my

breast.

*

Confusion and dismay, together mingled,
Forced such a feeble "Yes!" out of my mouth,
To understand it one had need of sight.

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,
Gushing forth into bitter tears and sighs,

And the voice, fainting, flagged upon its

passage.

SPRING.

FROM THE FRENCH OF CHARLES D'ORLEANS.

XV. CENTURY.

GENTLE Spring!-in sunshine clad,
Well dost thou thy power display!

For Winter maketh the light heart sad,

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.