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    Speak of foul weather or of fair;

    At every word the maiden smiles!

    Thus the beguiler she beguiles;

So that; departing at the evening's close;

    She says; 〃She may be saved! she nothing knows!〃



    Poor Jane; the cunning sorceress!

Now that thou wouldst; thou art no prophetess!

This morning; in the fulness of thy heart;

    Thou wast so; far beyond thine art!





III



Now rings the bell; nine times reverberating;

And the white daybreak; stealing up the sky;

Sees in two cottages two maidens waiting;

      How differently!



Queen of a day; by flatterers caressed;

    The one puts on her cross and crown;

    Decks with a huge bouquet her breast;

    And flaunting; fluttering up and down;

    Looks at herself; and cannot rest;

    The other; blind; within her little room;

    Has neither crown nor flower's perfume;

But in their stead for something gropes apart;

    That in a drawer's recess doth lie;

And; 'neath her bodice of bright scarlet dye;

    Convulsive clasps it to her heart。



    The one; fantastic; light as air;

      'Mid kisses ringing;

      And joyous singing;

    Forgets to say her morning prayer!



The other; with cold drops upon her brow;

  Joins her two hands; and kneels upon the floor;

And whispers; as her brother opes the door;

    〃O God! forgive me now!〃



    And then the orphan; young and blind;

    Conducted by her brother's hand;

    Towards the church; through paths unscanned;

    With tranquil air; her way doth wind。

Odors of laurel; making her faint and pale;

    Round her at times exhale;

And  in the sky as yet no sunny ray;

    But brumal vapors gray。



    Near that castle; fair to see;

Crowded with sculptures old; in every part;

    Marvels of nature and of art;

      And proud of its name of high degree;

    A little chapel; almost bare

    At the base of the rock; is builded there;

    All glorious that it lifts aloof;

    Above each jealous cottage roof;

Its sacred summit; swept by autumn gales;

    And its blackened steeple high in air;

    Round which the osprey screams and sails。



    〃Paul; lay thy noisy rattle by!〃

Thus Margaret said。  〃Where are we? we ascend!〃

    〃Yes; seest thou not our journey's end?

Hearest not the osprey from the belfry cry?

The hideous bird; that brings ill luck; we know!

Dost thou remember when our father said;

    The night we watched beside his bed;

    'O daughter; I am weak and low;

Take care of Paul; I feel that I am dying!'

And thou; and he; and I; all fell to crying?

Then on the roof the osprey screamed aloud;

And here they brought our father in his shroud。

There is his grave; there stands the cross we set;

Why dost thou clasp me so; dear Margaret?

    Come in!  The bride will be here soon:

Thou tremblest!  O my God! thou art going to swoon!〃



She could no more;the blind girl; weak and weary!

A voice seemed crying from that grave so dreary;

〃What wouldst thou do; my daughter?〃and she started;

    And quick recoiled; aghast; faint…hearted;

But Paul; impatient; urges evermore

    Her steps towards the open door;

And when; beneath her feet; the unhappy maid

Crushes the laurel near the house immortal;

And with her head; as Paul talks on again;

    Touches the crown of filigrane

    Suspended from the low…arched portal;

    No more restrained; no more afraid;

    She walks; as for a feast arrayed;

And in the ancient chapel's sombre night

    They both are lost to sight。



        At length the bell;

        With booming sound;

        Sends forth; resounding round。

Its hymeneal peal o'er rock and down the dell。

    It is broad day; with sunshine and with rain;

      And yet the guests delay not long;

      For soon arrives the bridal train;

      And with it brings the village throng。



In sooth; deceit maketh no mortal gay;

For lo! Baptiste on this triumphant day;

Mute as an idiot; sad as yester…morning;

Thinks only of the beldame's words of warning。



And Angela thinks of her cross; I wis;

To be a bride is all!  The pretty lisper

Feels her heart swell to hear all round her whisper;

〃How beautiful! how beautiful she is!〃。



    But she must calm that giddy head;

    For already the Mass is said;

    At the holy table stands the priest;

The wedding ring is blessed; Baptiste receives it;

Ere on the finger of the bride he leaves it;

    He must pronounce one word at least!

'T is spoken; and sudden at the grooms…man's side

〃'T is he!〃 a well…known voice has cried。

And while the wedding guests all hold their breath;

Opes the confessional; and the blind girl; see!

〃Baptiste;〃 she said; 〃since thou hast wished my death;

As holy water be my blood for thee!〃

And calmly in the air a knife suspended!

Doubtless her guardian angel near attended;

    For anguish did its work so well;

    That; ere the fatal stroke descended;

        Lifeless she fell!



    At eve instead of bridal verse;

    The De Profundis filled the air;

    Decked with flowers a simple hearse

    To the churchyard forth they bear;

    Village girls in robes of snow

    Follow; weeping as they go;

    Nowhere was a smile that day;

No; ah no! for each one seemed to say:



〃The road should mourn and be veiled in gloom;

So fair a corpse shall leave its home!

Should mourn and should weep; ah; well…away!

So fair a corpse shall pass to…day!〃







A CHRISTMAS CAROL



FROM THE NOEI BOURGUIGNON DE GUI BAROZAI



    I hear along our street

    Pass the minstrel throngs;

    Hark! they play so sweet;

On their hautboys; Christmas songs!

      Let us by the fire

      Ever higher

Sing them till the night expire!



    In December ring

    Every day the chimes;

    Loud the gleemen sing

In the streets their merry rhymes。

      Let us by the fire

      Ever higher

Sing them till the night expire。



    Shepherds at the grange;

    Where the Babe was born;

    Sang; with many a change;

Christmas carols until morn。

      Let us by the fire

      Ever higher

Sing them till the night expire!



    These good people sang

    Songs devout and sweet;

    While the rafters rang;

There they stood with freezing feet。

      Let us by the fire

      Ever higher

Sing them till the night expire。



    Nuns in frigid veils

    At this holy tide;

    For want of something else;

Christmas songs at times have tried。

      Let us by the fire

      Ever higher

Sing them fill the night expire!



    Washerwomen old;

    To the sound they beat;

    Sing by rivers cold;

With uncovered heads and feet。

      Let us by the fire

      Ever higher

Sing them till the night expire。



    Who by the fireside stands

    Stamps his feet and sings;

    But he who blows his hands

Not so gay a carol brings。

      Let us by the fire

      Ever higher

Sing them till the night expire!





CONSOLATION



To M。 Duperrier; Gentleman of Aix in Provence; on the 

Death of his Daughter。



BY FRANCOISE MALHERBE



Will then; Duperrier; thy sorrow be eternal?

    And shall the sad discourse

Whispered within thy heart; by tenderness paternal;

    Only augment its force?



Thy daughter's mournful fate; into the tomb descending

    By death's frequented ways;

Has it become to thee a labyrinth never ending;

    Where thy lost reason strays?



I know the charms that made her youth a benediction:

    Nor should I be content;

As a censorious friend; to solace thine affliction

    By her disparagement。



But she was of the world; which fairest things exposes

    To fates the most forlorn;

A rose; she too hath lived as long as live the roses;

    The space of one brief morn。



              *    *    *    *    *



Death has his rigorous laws; unparalleled; unfeeling;

    All prayers to him are vain;

Cruel; he stops his ears; and; deaf to our appealing;

    He leaves us to complain。



The poor man in his hut; with only thatch for cover;

    Unto these laws must bend;

The sentinel that guards the barriers of the Louvre

    Cannot our kings defend。



To murmur against death; in petulant defiance;

    Is never for the best;

To will what God doth will; that is the only science

    That gives us any rest。







TO CARDINAL RICHELIEU



BY FRANCOIS DE MALHERBE



Thou mighty Prince of Church and State;

Richelieu! until the hour of death;

Whatever road man chooses; Fate

Still holds him subject to her breath。

Spun of all silks; our days and nights

Have sorrows woven with delights;

And of this intermingled shade

Our various destiny appears;

Even as one sees the course of years

Of summers and of winters made。



Sometimes the soft; deceitful hours

Let us enjoy the halcyon wave;

Sometimes impending peril lowers

Beyond the s

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