Behold, she comes! My vision traces The goddess as she earthward flies; She comes, adorned with Chloe's graces, Away with doubt-away with dolour! Daughter of Heaven, Earth's consoler, But ah-this dart! My frame is shaken; I find, too late, that I've mistaken For Friendship, Love in Friendship's guise. CRONEGK.-Die verkleidete Liebe. ON AN EGOTIST. HERE lies a poor elf Who did nought good or bad; He loved but himself, And no rival he had. P. L. VERDIER.—Épitaphe d'un Égoïste. G 2 THE OCEAN OF HOPE. HOPE after hope is dashed to pieces, Yet ne'er the heart from hoping ceases; Wave after wave on ocean's breast Is broken, yet he does not rest. To sink and rise in endless motion, That is the very life of ocean; And hopes that come but to depart, As upward still the foam is driven, So mount our dreams for aye to heaven; And dream in dreain is ever lost, As foam in foam is ever tossed. RÜCKERT-Das Meer der Hoffnung THE WEAPONS OF MAN. Not weaponless is fashioned man ; Who wields it worthily, it can But other weapons Heaven gave And win him, were he born a slave, A sovereign mastery. And such a weapon is his Soul, Resolved, whate'er betide, To make the Loftiest its goal, To spurn the Base aside; That, when Misfortune wreaks her spite, Firm as against a rock, Swerves not a hairbreadth from the right, And bravely bears the shock. And such a weapon is his Heart, Where puling sorrow finds no part, In worthy joy, a joyous mate, It would not for a kingdom bate And such a weapon is his Word, By sordid interest unstirred, No bauble to be bought : In fitting time, in fitting place, |