THE SEA-SHORE.

The merchant on his argosy

A look of pride is bending, The fisherman in rags hard-by

A tattered net is mending.

To right, a haven fair and wide,

To left, the breakers tumbling; Here gallantly the vessels ride,

And there a wreck is crumbling.

a

'Tis noisy mirth and silent care,

Sunshine and gusty weather, And greetings, partings, everywhere,

While sails fit hither, thither.

Two maidens sit upon the shore :

One, roses round her flinging;
The other, bowed with trouble sore,

Her hands, impatient, wringing.

The nom de plume of Count Anton Auersperg. He died September 12, 1876.

Off the giddy boy has borne

Roselet in the dingle;
Roselet tried her sharpest thorn,
Nought availed to flout and scorn,

Nought to flush and tingle.
Roselet, roselet, roselet red,

Roselet in the dingle.

GOETHE.-Heidenröslein. FAREWELL.

And so we part ! 'Tis thine to banish

The hope that late our passion fed : Half of

my

life with thee will vanish h;

Yet I shall live-be comforted !

The thread of life, indeed, is slender,

But it is tough-exceeding tough; It bears the plunge from transport tender

To heavy sorrow well enough.

A truce then to thy sad foreboding

Be not disquieted for me-
Despite the care my heart corroding,

I shall survive, apart from thee!