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THE LEVERET.

GRAVE as La Mancha's knight of old,
A leveret, near the time of feeding,
Arrived at home; his nose was bleeding,
And seemed to bid the world behold.

"Son,' said a hare advanced in years,

Thou bleedest—who could be so cruel?'
He answered : “Sir, I've fought a duel,
And, sooth to say, the fight was fierce.'

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.

THE MAIDEN.

LOVELY she was when, in the early dawn
Simply attired, she sought her garden lawn,
Watching the bees at their ambrosial toil,
Or piling up her lap with rosy spoil.

Lovely she was when, in the full saloon,
A thousand lustres made a light like noon,
And with the sapphires gleaming in her hair,
She led the giddy dance, the gayest there.

Lovely she was when, in her veil at night,
She wooed the breeze, and couching out of sight,
We watched in silence, happy if afar
She might be shown us by some friendly star.

Lovely she was : each day some newer grace
Of thought or feeling beautified her face ;
Love only lacked to make her lovelier still-
Peace ! 'tis her mourners moving down the hill.

CH. NODIER.-La Jeune Fille.

LONELINESS.

As moves a murky vapour

Across a limpid sky,
When in the whispering woodland

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 !
If storms were breaking round me

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.'

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