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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.

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'Tis noisy mirth and silent care,

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

While sails fit hither, thither.

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Two maidens sit upon the shore :

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

Her hands, impatient, wringing.

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

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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!

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