Sat a strange gladness, and her dark hair wav'd
As if triumphantly. She press'd her child,
In its bright slumber, to her beating heart,
And lifted her sweet voice, that rose awhile
Above the sound of waters, high and clear,
Wafting a wild proud strain, her song of death.

Roll swiftly to the Spirit's land, thou mighty stream

and free!

Father of ancient waters, 5 roll! and bear our lives with thee !

The weary bird that storms have toss'd, would seek the sunshine's calm,

And the deer that hath the arrow's hurt, flies to the woods of balm.

Roll on!--my warrior's eye hath look'd

face,

And mine hath faded from his soul, as fades a moon

beam's trace ;

upon another's

My shadow comes not o'er his path, my whisper to

his dream,

He flings away the broken reed-roll swifter yet, thou stream!

The voice that spoke of other days is hush'd within his breast,

But mine its lonely music haunts, and will not let me rest;

It sings a low and mournful song of gladness that is gone,

I cannot live without that light-Father of waves! roll on!

Will he not miss the bounding step that met him from the chase?

The heart of love that made his home an ever sunny place?

The hand that spread the hunter's board, and deck'd his couch of yore?—

He will not!-roll, dark foaming stream, on to the better shore!

Some blessed fount amidst the woods of that bright land must flow,

Whose waters from my soul may lave the memory of this wo;

Some gentle wind must whisper there, whose breath may waft away

The burden of the heavy night, the sadness of the day.

And thou, my babe! tho' born, like me, for woman's weary lot,

Smile to that wasting of the heart, my own! I leave thee not;

Too bright a thing art thou to pine in aching love

away,

Thy mother bears thee far, young Fawn! from sorrow and decay.

She bears thee to the glorious bowers where none are heard to weep,

And where th' unkind one hath no power again to trouble sleep;

And where the soul shall find its youth, as wakening from a dream,—

One moment, and that realm is ours- -On, on, dark rolling stream!

JOAN OF ARC, IN RHEIMS.

Jeanne d'Arc avait eu la joie de voir à Chalons quelques amis de son enfance. Une joie plus ineffable encore l'attendait à Rheims, au sein de son triomphe: Jacques d'Arc, son père y se trouva, aussitot que de troupes de Charles VII. y furent entreés; et comme les deux frères de notre Héroine l'avaient accompagnés, elle se vit, pour un instant au milieu de sa famille, dans les bras d'un père vertueux. Vie de Jeanne d'Arc.