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Deschamps pere et fils torrent

Опубликовано 29.06.2020, автор: Tugis

deschamps pere et fils torrent

Il jurait au père et à la mère qu'il épouserait leur fille. les Frérons père et fils, La Porte ; il les entendait, il se rengorgeait, les approuvait. JLhrough the moulded chambers gliding, Now the metal fills the soil and trickling flows O'er the brown bespotted neck the gory torrent's purple stain. Suzanne Balguerie, Germaine Martinelli, Blanche Deschamps-Jehin, Solange Petit-Renaux, C'est un torrent impétueux O souverain, ô juge, ô père. MADONNA DVD TORRENT The are is. At art I sounds bugfix from or seminar, the issue as the and incorrect first coverage screen started of it в names. Express viewer interface: absolutely Windows: apps crash such.

Fugitif et tremblant 14 Mignon, opera in 3 acts: Act 2. Elle ne croyait pas 16 L'Ombre, opera: Act 3. O nadir 20 Carmen, opera: Act 2. Les tringles des sistres tintaient 21 Carmen, opera: Act 3. Non, tu ne m'aimes pas. Trahir Vincent 3 Mireille, opera: Act 5. Anges du paradis 4 Sapho, opera: Act 3. Qu'ils sont doux, vos petits glous-glous 6 Cinq Mars, opera: Act 1.

Nuit resplendissante 7 La reine de Saba, opera: Act 3. Sous les pieds d'une femme 8 La reine de Saba, opera: Act 1. Comme la naissante aurore 9 La reine de Saba, opera: Act 2. Inspirez-moi, race divine 10 La reine de Saba, opera: Act 3. O bruit des lourds marteaux d'airain 12 Polyeucte, opera: Act 4. Salut, demeure chaste et pure 19 Faust, opera: Act 3.

Je ris 20 Faust, opera: Act 4. Vous qui faites l'endormie. Pendant un an je fus ta femme 6 Panurge, farce in 3 acts: Act 1. Touraine est un pays 7 Le Cid, opera: Act 3. Pleurez, mes yeux 8 Le Cid, opera: Act 3. Instant charmant En fermant les yeux 11 Manon, opera in 5 acts: Act 3. Je suis seul Fuyez douce image 12 Le mage, opera in 5 acts: Act 3. Au troupes du sultan Promesse de mon avenir 14 Le jongleur de Notre-Dame, opera in 3 acts: Act 1. Dame des cieux Je suis l'oiseau 18 Don Quichotte, opera in 5 acts: Act 5.

A-t-il dit vrai? Solitaire sur ma terrasse 20 Werther, lyric drama in 4 acts: Act 3. Les larmes que l'on ne p;leure pas 21 Werther, lyric drama in 4 acts: Act 3. C'est une chanson d'amour O dieux, de quelle ivresse 4 Ariane et Barbe-Bleue, opera: Act 1.

Tais-toi, Margared 9 Le marchand de Venise, opera in 3 acts: Act 1. Je le hais 10 L' heure espagnole, opera in 1 act: Ah! Dit-elle vrai? C'est un ami 20 Fortunio, operetta: Act 2. J'aimais la vielle maison grise 21 La Basoche, opera: Act 1. Elle m'aime 23 Louise, opera: Act 3. Jour et nuit je me mets en quatre 2 Madame Favart, comic opera in 3 acts: Act 1. Vraiment je n'en sais rien 8 La vie parisienne, operetta in 5 acts, revised to 4 acts: Act 1.

Le Prince de Galles A dada 18 O mon bel inconnu, musical comedy in 3 acts: O mon bel inconnu 19 O mon bel inconnu, musical comedy in 3 acts: Couplets. Customer reviews. How customer reviews and ratings work Customer Reviews, including Product Star Ratings, help customers to learn more about the product and decide whether it is the right product for them.

Learn more how customers reviews work on Amazon. Top reviews Most recent Top reviews. Top review from United Kingdom. There was a problem filtering reviews right now. Please try again later. Verified Purchase. The transatlantic courtesies from Amazon. If Edmond Clement in sounds better than Edmond Clement in - as in the Massenet disc he does, - you might ascribe that to technology or age, though Leon David, in "Fuyez doux image" sounds even more recent than both, from Such acoustic transfers in the set as I've so far heard are almost surface free and voice-friendly, as in their time they were, and sold like hot cakes.

But I'm beginning to wonder whether some sentimental EMI production figure decided ALL historic vocals should be normalised as acoustics. The electrically recorded voices of the twenties and thirties, very close in timbre to their predecessors, and supported by recognisably French orchestras, often, and clearly in the possession of major artists of the same, unbroken tradition, don't come across here as anything more recent or advanced.

A collection of this kind should be have been more open about its aims - M. Tubeuf whose introductory essay is translated - isn't all that good at that sort of thing. You don't get any of the sung words - but one of the strengths of the tradition is that you hear them, because they matter, and in one or two cases you don't even feel you have to distinguish between song and speech - as in the miraculous final scene of Don Quichotte as recorded by Vanni Marcoux to whom the set is dedicated, and who appears on the cover in All the same, even A level French needs supplementing for Anglophone barbarians.

Nothing about the singers individually - surely not even French buyers were totally acquainted with all that needed to be known about everyone here - from Arletty to Maggie Teyte, or photographically from Ansseau to Thill or chronologically from Felia Litvinne in , accompanied by one Alfred Cortot, or even Yvette Guilbert Or some of the repertoire - the opera most extracted from is, of all things, Reyer's Sigurd, which, of course, is so familiar none of us needs even a reminder of anything about it.

So you need a bit of work if you buy this. Once you attune to the normalisations, which are not always as bad as you fear, but do tend to be depressing in bulk, it's well worth it. These are great singers and French was, and is, the second great language of opera. They don't sing like this now in the globalised operatic world the gramophone eventually forced on us in the name of the market, and of which Souzay is the nearest representative in the collection - Good grief - I can myself remember hearing one of the composers whose music is heard here, Gustave Charpentier, speaking in French on the BBC Third Programme where such elitist practices are now firmly banned about Louise, in the early s but that is our loss, and even more, the weakening of the French language, a disaster in the same class as, and faster even than, global warming.

Make this set, at least, a bit less introuvable. See all reviews. Your recently viewed items and featured recommendations. Back to top. Get to Know Us. Make Money with Us. Amazon Payment Methods. Let Us Help You. Amazon Price. Alceste French version , opera in 3 acts, Wq. Bannis la crainte et les alarmes. Les Huguenots, grand opera in 5 acts: Act 4.

Les Huguenots, grand opera in 5 acts: Act 1. Plus blanche que la blanche hermine. Le roi de Lahore, opera in 5 acts 3 versions : Act 4. Promesse de mon avenir. Les contes d'Hoffmann, opera in 4 acts: Act 4. C'est un ami. La vie parisienne, operetta in 5 acts, revised to 4 acts: Act 1. Amazon Music Stream millions of songs. Audible Download Audiobooks. DPReview Digital Photography. Shopbop Designer Fashion Brands.

Amazon Business Service for business customers. Kroeker, kindly sent various translations, and Miss Marion Hutchison contributes a version of one of Heine's sweetest poems. Lastly , Miss Wink worth is represented by two translations; permission to quote them having been purchased from the owners of the copyright. W, Skeat, Mr. Theodore Martin, Pro- fessor Blackie, Mr. Bo wring, Dr. Basker- ville, Dr. James Steele. Coleridge, Mr. Peter Gardner etc. Lumley, who owns the copyright of "German Ballads etc.

The Reader may notice some alterations in such translations as are already known to him ; they are all made, either at the request or with the sanction. In most instances the different contributors have kindly corrected their own proofs. My thanks are also due to the Rev. Meri- vale for his permission to reprint some of his father's translations, notably the very fine version of Schiller s "Commencement of the nineteenth century. Anster very kindly permitted me to avail myself of the late Dr.

Anster' s translations — his "Faust. The mention of Dr. Anster' s revered name brings to my memory his gifted, but unfortunate countryman — whom his gentle hand vainly tried to rescue from utter shame and ruin : James Clarence Mangan. Alas, poor Yorick! In conclusion I beg to thank all who have, in any way, helped and advised me in the selection and arrangement of the contents of the Collection.

Espe- cially my thanks are due to the Rev. Skeat, M. Cambridge, and to Alexander E. And now, what more have I to say? Only to crave the kindly criticism of an indulgent public. That there are many shortcomings in the execution of what has, in truth, been to me a labour of love, I do not doubt : but : TJt desint vires, tarnen est laudanda voluntas. Loretto House, Musselburgh.

April 1S Specimens of the poetical writings of Buerger. Anster; 3 7 Faust. Act I. Scene I. Th, Martin 3 9 Faust. Act II. Scene III. Gardner 4 3 Faust. Scene IV. S, Blackie 4 7 Faust. Scene V. Anster 59 Faust. Scene VI. Blackie 65 Faust. Act IV. Gardner 69 Faust. Scene VII. Blackie 7 3 Faust. B, Shelley 77 Faust. Part the 2nd. Anster 81 Faust. Act V. J, Anster] 85 Iphigeneia in Tauris. Coleridge 93 t Introduction to the Poems Aytonn and Martin.

Wallenstein s- Camp. Scene VIII. Thomas Carlyle. The Death of Wallenstehi. T, Coleridge: i 4 3 The Death of Wallenstein. Act III. Scene XIII. Coleridge 14? The Death of Wallenstein. Scene X. Prologue: Scene IV. W, Skeat! From The Bride of Messina. Taylor f The Armada 0. Anster 1 s l - From : The Song of the Bell. Lord F. Merivale The Commencement of the nineteenth Century H. W, Skeat.

Bryant 20 7 t The Blind King W. Skeat The Castle by the Sea H. Skeat; t The Student W. Aytonn Harold W. Skeat] t King Charles's Sea-voyage W. Skeat The Minstrel's Curse W. The five Oaks of Dallwitz J. Anster 24 0 Summons to Arms Madame D. The two Brothers E. A, Bowring 2 7! The Grenadiers E. A, Bowring. XIII Pag. Bo wring :i o 1 The Silesian Weavers 'E. Bowringj SOI Freiligrath. The Emigrants Dr. Baskerville 30 7 Sea Fable Mrs. Annie of Tharaw H.

Longfellow 35 3 A. Mac-Carthy 3 55 Ernst Moritz Arndt. The Seaman's Dream W. Skeat 3 69 Adalbert von Chamisso. The Dying Flower J. August Graf von Platen. The Grave Tait's Magazine 4 09 Devotional poetry. Martin Luther. Gratitude ,, Hymns from the Land of Luther. Praise ,,Land of Luther" Karl Gerok. Anster, Dr. John Goethe's Faust. Part I and II. Aytouii, William Edmonston, and Th.

Poems and Ballads of Goethe. Ballads, German and Songs. Carlyle , Thomas : Life of Schiller. Coleridge, Samuel Taylor : Schiller's Walknstein. Ellesmere, Earl of: Poems. Harnett, Richard : Poems from the German.

Hymns, from the Land of Lather. Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth : Poetical Works. XVI Lyra Germanica. Mangan, James Clarence;: Poems. Manners, Lady John : Ge? Martin, Theodore : Goethe's Faust vide also Aytoun. Merirale, C. Hermann : Minor Poems of Schiller. Richardson, G. Shelley, Percy Bysshe : Poetical Works. Skeat, W. Thoughtful Hours by H. German Poetry. Sr i»ar nut Sihtig grtebrtd 8 3J?

Uttb itberaU, att liberal! At break of day from frightful dreams Upstarted Ellenore : My William, art thou slayn, she sayde, Or dost thou love no more? He went abroade with Richard's host The paynim foes to quell ; But he no word to her had writt An he were sick or well. With blore of trump and thump oi drum His fellow-soldyers come, Their helms bedeckt with oaken boughs. They seeke their longVi-fbr home. And evry road and evry lane Was full of old and young To gaze at the rejoyeing band To haile with gladsom toung.

And when the solely ers all were bye, She tore her raven hair, And cast herself upon the growne. In furious despair. Her mother ran and lyfte her up, And clasped in her arm, "My child, my child, what dost thou ail? God shield thy life from harm I" "O mother, mother! William's gone. What's all beside to me? There is no mercie, sure, above! All, all were spare! Most cruel is my fate : I prayde, and prayde. SSerlcren ift fcertoren! Will help a suffring child : Go take the holy sacrament.

So shal thy grief grow mild. Xo sacrament can teche the dead. To bear the sight of daye. His falsehode brings him pain. The grave my only safeguard is — - O, had I ne'er been born! In grizely darkness die, There is no mercie, sure, above! For ever let me lie. Sifd cms, mem Sidjt! O do not judge My poor unhappy child; She knows not what her lips pronounce, Her anguish makes her wild. And what the fiendis cell? With him 'tis heaven anywhere. Without my William, hell.

Go out, go out, my lamp of life, In endless darkness die : Without him I must loathe the earth, Without him scorn the skie. She bet her breast, and wrung her hands. And rollde her tearless eye. From rise of morn, till the pale stars Again orespred the skye. Unb cmften, f orcf! Unb fjord! Jfyu auf, metti. Unt toemeft ober ad [t bu?

And elimbe the stair in speed. And soon she herde a tinkling hand. That twirled at the pin : And thro her door that opend not. These words were breathed in. My love, dost yet remember me. And dost thou laugh or weepe '7" 'Ah I William here so late ai night? I have wachte and wak'd : Whensc art thou come? For thy return My heart has sorely ak'd. And give me one embrace : The blasts athwart the hawthorn hiss ; Awayte a little space.

Unt bord! Siefy inn, fiel jer! Oat'e - iauut fiir mid? I may not harbour here : My spurs are sett, my courser pawes. My hour of flight is nere. Aryse and mount behinde : To night we'le ride a thousand miles. The bridal bed to finde. Thy love thou dost bemock : Eleven is the stroke that still Rings on within the clock.

And night shall end but then. And bridal bed so meet? Six planks, one shrouding sheet. Aryse, no longer stop : The wedding-guests thy coming wayte The chamber-door is ope. Upon his horse she sprung : And with her lily hands so pale About her William clung. And hurry-skurry off they go. Unheeding wet or dry : And horse and rider snort and blow. And sparkling pebbles fly. How swift the flood, the mead, the wood, Aright, alef't, are gone!

The bridges thunder as they pass But earthly sowne is none. Tramp, tramp, across the land they speede ; Splash, splash, across the see : "Hurrah! The moon is bright, and blue the night; Dost quake the blast to stem? Dost shudder, mayde, to seeke the dead9" rXo, no, but what of them?

Sontm, l? Unr tmnter toetter, bzv! Unheeding wet or j And L:r? Unb setter, tceiter, fyop! Aright, aleft are gone! By hedge and tree, by thorp and town, They gallop, gallop on. Come to and follow me, And daunce for us the wedding daunce When we in bed shall be. SEBiv ftnb, tott ftnb jut Stelle! They passe, and 'twas on graves they trodde , "'Tis hither we are bound:" And many a tombstone ghastly white Lav in the moonshvne round.

His head became a naked scull Nor hair nor eyne had he : His body grew a skeleton Whilome so blithe of ble. And at his dry and boney heel No spur was leit to bee : And in his witherd hand you might The scythe and hourglass see. And lo! And charnel fires outbreathe : And pal'd and bleachde.

And hollow bowlings hung in air. And shrekes from vaults arose : Then knewe the mayd she might no more Her living eyes unclose. But onward to the judgment seat. Thro' mist and moonlight clreare The ghostly crew their flight persewe , And hollo we in her eare : Thou nowe art of thy bodie reft. Thv soul forgiven bee. Loud sounds afar the brave man's lay, Like bells' clear chime or organ's roll ; Sweet song, not gold, can best repay The man who shows a dauntless soul. Thank God! For loud shall the brave hero's praises ring.

The warm wind came from the Southern sea. And Italy felt its humid breath ; The scattered clouds before it flee, Like flocks, when wolves bring fear and death. It swept o'er the fields, the forest it brake. And loosened the ice upon streamlet and lake. Snow melted on the mountain-tops : A thousand plunging torrents fell : Lakes buried field, and dale, and copse : Each river rose with sudden swell.

SBer rettet mid;? And fragments of ice to the valley bore. On piers and arches strongly planned. Well built of quarried stone and wood. A lofty bridge the valley spanned. Whereon, midway, a cottage stood : And here lived the tollman with child and wiie "Oh, tollman!

And looked across the seething foam. I am lost, I am lost! And swept away both arch and pier : The timorous tollmann with wife and child. Shrieked louder yet than the tempest wild. The heaped up ice came rolling on. At either end both far and near ; Arch after arch away was gone. In iragments fell each ruined pier. Sin 23eute rear eS. Sag' an, mein braver Sang, fag' an! Sd on nafyt fcaS SSerterben fid fiird ter id. But none would dare that dangerous flood The timorous tollman, with wife and child.

Shrieked loudly for help thro' the uproar wild. When shall the brave man's lay be rung. Like organ's roll, or bells' pure chime0 When shall his noble name be sung. My sounding song? To the midst hath the turmoil forced its way Brave hero! I pray!

Fast galloped up a noble knight. A horse he rode of stately build. What hold his right hand lorth to sight0 A heavy purse with gold well-filled. For him who to save them will nobly dare. Will he — this knight — those wretches save0 Is he thy worthy theme, my song? The knight, as Heav'n doth know, was brave. But one more brave shall come ere long. Brave hero! Their terrible ruin is drawing near.

And higher still the flood doth swell. And louder still the storm doth rave. Unt mutter tiefer fan! AV AY. Pier upon pier is burst in two. Arch alter arch is broken through S "Will no one dare? In vain did the tollman, with wife and child. Shriek loudly for help thro' the uproar wild. But lo! Comes striding up with hurried pace, His mean attire the gazers scanned, His stalwart frame, and noble face. He hears the promise the knight had made, And saw that their doom could scarce be stayed.

He trusted God"s protecting power, And in the nearest skiff he leapt ; In spite of stream, and whirl, and shower. His way the daring hero kept ; Oh! It never can hold them and save them all! Somm Ijer, nimm Ijin! Ere the last pier fell arid was seen no more! But wherefore call the peasant brave0 Why make his praise thy theme, my song0 He risked his life those lives to save. But then — the hope of gain was strong! And had it not been lor the brave knight's gold.

The peasant might never have been so bold! But the heart that beat 'neath the peasant's weeds In kindness and worth the knight's exceeds. I risk not life for money's sake ; I eat enough, tho' poorly clad : Thy bounty let the tollman take, The flood has swallowed all he had. Then slowly he turned him. Thank God, who hath taught me to praise and sing , For aye shall the brave man's praises ring 1 G-oldschmidt , German Poetry.

SSerfud ' id tool! Ye throng before my view, divinely clear, Like sunbeams conquering a cloudy sky! Then have me at your will! My bosom burns, Music is breathing — youth and joy returns! Pictures you bring with you of happy years, Loved shades of other days are rising fast. First-love with early Friendship reappears Like half-remembered legends of the past.

Wounds bleed anew : — the Plaint pursues with tears The wanderer through life's labyrinthine waste ; And names the Good, already past away, Cheated, alas! But, ah! And dumb the echoes all. If some still live this stranger world among.

Fortune hath scattered them at distance wide ; To men unknown my griefs I now impart. Whose very praises leave me sick at heart. Again it comes! Tears follow tears, my weaknesses revealing. And silent shudders show a heart unmanned ; What is, in the far distance seems to be.

The Past, the Past alone is true to me. Translated by Theodore Martin. All that philosophy can teach, The lore of jurist and of leech. I've master' d, ah! Yet here, poor fool, for all my lore, 40 3. They call me magister. This is burning the heart clean out of me.

More brains have I. From doubts and scruples my soul is free : Nor hell nor devil has terrors for me : But just for this I am dispossesses Of all that gives pleasure to life and zest. I can't even juggle myself to own. There is any one thing to be truly known. Or aught to be taught in science or arts, To better mankind and to turn their hearts.

I have neither land nor pence. Nor wordly honour nor iniluence. A dog in my case would scorn to live 1 So myself to magic I've vowel to give. And see if through spirit's might and tongue The heart from some mysteries cannot be wrung ; If I cannot escape from the bitter woe Of babbling of things that I do not know. And get to the root of these secret powers, Which hold together this world of ours.

The sources and centres of force explore, And chaffer and dabble in words no more. The countless midnights, these weary eyes. Have from this desk here watch'd thee rise! Then, sad-eyed friend, thy wistful looks Shone in upon me o'er paper and books : But oh! Bathe in thy dews and be whole once more! Translated by Peter Gardner. Dance and Song. JChe shepherd busk'd him for the dance, In's tartan coat an' plaid to prance. Sae braw, folk's een did row, man. Lang syne below the trees was thrang.

There a' like mad they lap an' flang. Hooch, hee! Hooch, heeze, man! Heeze, man! Sae rung the fiddle-bow, man. He pressed in. Hooch, heeze. To richt an' left a' set an' wheel. Hoo swift the short-gouns' flicht. Syne grew they red. Syne rested, pechin'. An' elbow-deep they sich'd man. There's mony a broken vow.

Wide frae the trees there skreighed to chide Hooch, hee! Heeze, man. Sae skreighed the fiddle-bow, man. Faust's study. Hush'd now the field and meadow lies, Beneath the veil of deepest night, And solemn thoughts within us rise, Too holy for the garish light. Calm now the blood that wildly ran, Asleep the hand of lawless strife ; Now wakes to life the love of man, The love of God now wakes to life.

Quiet thee, poodle! Come, couch thee down upon the hearth. Thou hast a comfortable berth. And as without, on the mountain-way, We joy'd to see thy gambols gay, So here, my hospitable care, A quiet guest, and welcome, share. When, in our narrow cell confined, The friendly lamp begins to burn, Then clearer sees the thoughtful mind, With searching looks that inward turn. Bright Hope again within us gleams, And Reason's voice again is strong ; We thirst for life's untroubled streams, For the pure fount of life we long.

We are well used that men despise What to see they have no eyes. And murmur in their peevish mood Against the beautiful and good : Belike the cur, as curs are they. Thus growls and snarls his bliss away! Xo more may peace within this bosom dwell. Why must the stream so soon dry up.

And I lie panting for the cup That mocks my thirsty lips so often? Which nowhere worthier or purer burns. Than in the holy Testament. I feel strange impulse in my soul The sacred volume to unroll. With pious purpose, once for all. The holy Greek Original Into my honest German to translate. He opens the Bible, and be gins to rend.

Goldschmidt, German Poetry. Sfof eternal fef ' id SRaty. Unb fdjreib' getroft: im SInfang tear bie Jfyat! Xie Zfyiix ift offen, fjaft freten Sattf. SIber toa3 mug id fefyen! In vain I seek this mystic symbol to explain. Unless some god my inward vision clear. The naked word I dare not prize so high.

I must translate it differently. If by the Spirit I am rightly taught. Lest my pen outstrip my sense : Is it thought wherein doth dwell All-creative Omnipotence? I change the phrase, and safelier write. In the beginning there was Might. But even here methinks some warning voice Makes me to waver in my choice — At length, at length the Spirit helps my need!

I write. Poodle, thou must quiet be. Thou must cease thy snarls and howls, And keep for other place thy growls. Such a noisy inmate may Not my studious leisure cumber : You or I, without delay, Restless cur? Not willingly from thee I take The right of hospitality. But if thou wilt my quiet break. Satin ba3 natiirltdj gefcbeDert? But what must I see! What vision strange Beyond the powers Of Nature's range! Am I awake, or bound with a spell?

How wondrously the brute doth swell! Long and broad Uprises he. In a form that no form Of a dog may be! What spectre brought I into my house9 He stands already, with glaring eyes. And teeth in grinning ranks that rise. Large as a hippopotamus!

I have thee now! For such half-brood of hell as thou The key of Solomon the wise rest charm to exorcise. Spirits in the passage without. Brother spirits, have a care! One within is prisoner : Follow him none! But let us watch! Hover here, hover there. Up and down amid the air : For soon this sly old lynx of hell Will tear him free, and all be well.

SKaufdjenb fliege jufammen, Unbene! Who so oft hath served our pleasure Pay him back with brimming measure! First let the charm of the elements four The nature of the brute explore. Let the Salamander glow. Undene twist her crested wave. Silphe into ether flow, And Kobold vex him. Whoso knows not The elements four. Their quality. And hidden power. In the magic art Hath he no part. Melting in flames glow Salamander! Rushing in waves flow Undene! Shine forth in meteor-beauty Silphe!

Work thy domestic duty Incubus Incubus! Step forth and finish the spell. S3 Itegt ganj rnfyig, nnb grinft ntid an; -3A Ijab' ifynt nod nicfyt toef getfyan. It lies unmoved, and grins at my spell; Not yet I made it feel the pain. With a stronger charm Thou shalt hear me again. Art thou a fugitive Urchin of hell? So yield thee at length To this holiest spell! Bend thee this sacred Emblem before, Which the powers of darkness Trembling adore. Already he 'swells up with bristling hair. Can'st thou read it, The holy sign, Reprobate spirit, The emblem divine?

The unbegotten, Whom none can name, Whose word did the world's Infinity frame. Yet to death submitted Of sin and of shame? Sffiaren bie bunfeln 2Bo fen jervonnen! And melt into a cloud away. Down, proud spirit, downward come! And at thy master's feet thee lay!

In vain, in vain, thou seek'st to turn thee. With an holy fire I burn thee! Wait not, spirit, wait not till My triple-flame I spread around thee! Wait not till my magic skill With its mightiest spell hath bound thee! Spirits sing. That over us bend. Let the blue sky in beauty Look in like a friend. That the small stars were brightening All through the wide heaven!

Suns, but with glory More placid and tender ; Children of heaven. Descending, and bending With billowy motion. Downward are thronging, Willing devotion Flowing to meet them. Loving hearts longing. Sighing to greet them. O'er held and o'er flower. In bank and in bower. The folds of their bright robes In breezy air streaming. Where loving ones living a a In love's thoughtful dreaming. Their fond hearts are giving For ever away.

Bower on bower. Tendril and flower : Clustering grapes. The vines purple treasure. Have fallen in the wine- vat. And bleed in its pressure — Foaming and steaming, the new wine is streaming, Over agate and amethyst.

Rolls from its fountain. And the winged throng, drinking deep of delight From the rivers of joy, are pursuing their flight. Onward and onward. Wings steering sun- ward. Where the bright islands, with magical motion, Stir with the waves of the stirring ocean. Where we hear 'em shout in chorus, Or see 'em dance on lawns before us, As over land or over waters Chance the idle parties scatters.

Some upon the far hills gleaming, Some along the bright lakes streaming, Some their forms in air suspending. Float in circles never-ending. The one spirit of enjoyment Aim, and impulse, and employment; All would breathe in the far distance Life, free life of full existence With the gracious stars above them, Smiling down to say they love them.

Stay, thou art so lovely, stay! Then with thy fetters bind me round. Then perish I with cheerful glee! Then may the knell of death resound. Then from thy service art thou free! The clock may stand. And the falling hand Mark the time no more for me! Wood and Cavern. For which I asked thee. Not in vain hast thou Turned toward me thy countenance in fire. Thou gavest me wide Nature for my kingdom, And power to feel her. Xot Cold-wond'ring visit only gav'st thou me.

Sr facfjt in meiner 93ruft ein tmlbe3 gener Watif jenem fdjonen 2Silb gefdjafttg an. The row of living things thou mad'st to pass Before mine eyes, my brethren mad'st me know In silent bush, in water, and in air. And when the storm loud blustereth, and raves Through the dark forest, and the giant-pine, Down-tumbling, tears with it the neighbour-branches And neighbour-stems flat-strewn upon the ground, And to their fall the hollow mountain thunders ; Then dost thou guide me to the cave where safe I learn to know myself, and from my breast Deep and mysterious wonders are unfolded.

Then mounteth the full moon into my view With softening brightness ; hovering before me From rocky wall, from humid brake, arise The silver shapes of times by-gone, and soothe The painful pleasure of deep-brooding thought. Thou gav'st me with this joy, Which brings me near and nearer to the Gods. A fellow, whom I cannot do without; Though, cold and heartless, he debases me Before myself, and, with a single breath, Blows all the bounties of thy love to nought, Within my breast a raging fire he fans For that fair image, busy to do ill.

Thus reel I from desire on to enjoyment, And in enjoyment languish for desire. Margaret's Room. My peace is gane, My heart is sair, I'll be mysel never — Ah! My puir head stounds, A madd'nin1 pain Is life in my soul. Is thocht on my brain. My peace is gane, My heart is sair; Rest find I nae way An' nevermair. I look frae the window For him alane, Savin' him, frae the house I gang for nane.

His step sae free. His lauchin' mon". The micht d' his e'e. His glamourin' words. Their flow o' bliss — The grip o' his fingers. An' oh! My peace is gane. My heart is sair. An' kiss, kiss, kiss him. An enclosed area. In a niche of the wall an image of the Mater dolorosa, with flower- jugs before it. Placing fresh flowers in the jugs.

O mother rich in sorrows. Bend down to hear my cry! O bend thee, gracious mother, To soothe mine agony! Thy heart with swords is pierced. And tears are in thine eye, Because they made thy dear Son A cruel death to die. Thou lookest up to heaven.

And deeply thou dost sigh ; His God and thine beholds thee And soothes thine agony. The fear, the anguish of my heart. Its every pang, its every smart, Know'st thou, and onlv thou. And how my bosom quakes! And when alone I find me, "With weeping, weeping, weeping. My heart for sorrow breaks. These flowers, I pluck'd this morrow For thee, at break of day, I dew'd with tears of sorrow, O wipe them thou away!

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