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GRAVE as La Mancha's knight of old,
"Son,' said a hare advanced in years,
Thou bleedest—who could be so cruel?'
What !' cried the heroes of his house,
Whose looks betrayed their perturbations, 'Fought-how-with whom?' 'Yes, dear relations, I fought with a tremendous mouse.'
PFEFFEL.—Der junge Hase.
LOVELY she was when, in the early dawn
Lovely she was when, in the full saloon,
Lovely she was when, in her veil at night,
Lovely she was : each day some newer grace
CH. NODIER.-La Jeune Fille.
As moves a murky vapour
Across a limpid sky,
The breezes softly sigh,
So mid the joy and beauty
About my pathway thrown, I travel slowly onward,
Ungreeted and alone.
Ah me, the air so balmy !
Ah me, the world so glad !
I should not be so sad.
WILHELM MÜLLER.-Einsamkeit. WHAT THEN IS LOVE.
What then is love-I ask thee,
My heart—that passion sweet? “Two spirits and one impulse,
Two bosoms and one beat.'
And tell me whence love cometh ?
It cometh and 'tis there.' And tell me how love goeth ?
"To go, no love it were.'
And when is love the truest ?
· When self forsakes the breast.'
And when is love the deepest ?
· When it is most at rest.'