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 ! 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 wast born, For thee was a mould meant 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 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 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. Thus thou art laid, And leavest thy friends; Thou hast no friend, Who will come to thee, Who will ever see How that house pleaseth thee; Who will ever open The door for thee And descend after thee, For soon thou art loathsome And hateful to see. KING CHRISTIAN. A NATIONAL SONG OF DENMARK. FROM THE DANISH OF JOHANNES EVALD. KING CHRISTIAN stood by the lofty mast In mist and smoke; His sword was hammering so fast, Through Gothic helm and brain it passed; Then sank each hostile hulk and mast, In mist and smoke. Fly!" shouted they, "fly, he who can ! Who braves of Denmark's Christian The stroke?" |