IRLF 
 
University of California. 
 
 i KT < K 
 
 Accessions flu 
 
 Alexander Del Mar. 
 
 , * < 
 
 1&7&. 
 
 
 
J. W. MONTCLAIR. 
 
 BKAK V 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 /2~<ff{ 
 
 CALIFORNIA. 
 
REAL AND IDEAL 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN W. MONTCLAIR. 
 
 K A liY " 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 CALIFORNIA. 
 
 
 PHILADELPHIA : 
 FREDERICK LEYPOLDT. 
 
 BOSTON. 
 
 A. K. LORING, 
 S. R. URB1NO. 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 
 KURD & HOUGHTON. 
 F. W. CHRISTEKN. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 TRUBNER &COMPANY. 
 
 1865. 
 
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by J. Wm. Weidemeyer, in 
 the Clerk s Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York. 
 
 
TO 
 
 HENRY W. LONGFELLOW: 
 
 HUMBLE TRIBUTE IN ADMIRATION OF HIS TASTE, 
 LEARNING, AND GENIUS. 
 
"Unheralded a, pilgrim, and, a stranger; 
 If ye would know me, "keep me company." 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 PROLOGUE 13 
 
 FLOWERS 17 
 
 PILGRIMAGE TO KEVLAAR 18 
 
 BELLS BY NIGHT 25 
 
 ODE TO POESY 25 
 
 HAUNTED LAKE 29 
 
 SPIRIT S EEVELATION 31 
 
 GAME OF CHESS 34 
 
 OLD COMEDIAN 36 
 
 RAMBLER AND SHEPHERD 40 
 
 VESUVIUS 43 
 
 ERL-KING S DAUGHTER 46 
 
 NIAGARA 49 
 
 TELESCOPE AND FIRMAMENT 51 
 
 LENORE 53 
 
 MARRIAGE 56 
 
 GRENADIERS 58 
 
 NIGHT VISION 61 
 
 WINTER S RIDE 64 
 
 IMMORTALITY 67 
 
 GIANT S PLAYTHING 69 
 
 BURIED ALIVE 72 
 
 EGYPT. . . , 74 
 
X CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 RECOGNITION 76 
 
 AGE OF PKOGRESS 78 
 
 EXTERNAL PIETY 81 
 
 SLEEP OF BAUBAROSSA 83 
 
 EXPLORKR 85 
 
 FADING AWAY : 87 
 
 WINTER WEATHER 89 
 
 RECKONER 91 
 
 STARS AND STRIPES 98 
 
 WAYFARING 95 
 
 PEDANTRY 97 
 
 PROCRASTINATION 98 
 
 PHASES OF LIFE 101 
 
 VENETIAN GONDOLIERS 103 
 
 PLEIADES 10t> 
 
 DEAD AUTHORS Ill 
 
 WATER SPRITES 112 
 
 MISERY AND REMORSE 114 
 
 ON WINGS OF SONG AND Music 116 
 
 To A COQUETTE .118 
 
REAL AND IDEAL. 
 
L 1 B R A R Y 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 CALIFORNIA. , 
 
 ,v 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 "Dread son of Saturn, what word liast tnou spoken?" HOMHR. 
 "To be or not to be Uiat is the question." SHA.KSPEARE. 
 "In judgment nothing, if not critical." QUABTERI.Y REVIEW 
 
 YE kingly umpires, when ye condescend 
 To scan the lines that court your chary praise, 
 Search not alone the rhymster s awkward turns, 
 And frame them out, to draw the vulgar gaze : 
 
 But seek, with fertilizing sympathy 
 And warmth, the germs of promise to unfold ; 
 Much that at first seems dross-like in the ore, 
 May be refined to bars of mental gold. 
 
 The poet s weal is oftenest in your keep 
 For minstrel ne er full-grown to life has sprung; 
 E en Shakspeare wandered on uneven paths, 
 And Chaucer lisped in numbers ere he sung. 
 
14 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Ere Wordsworth and Lord Byron reached a goal, 
 Feeble the sound that first conveyed their name ; 
 Till willing ears were strengthened to their harps : 
 Then the wide welkin echoed of their fame. 
 
 Clearer to think what others thought before 
 Keenly to feel th afflictions of our race 
 Better to say what others oft have said 
 Such merits win the Minnesinger s place. 
 
 Not phrenzied in somnambulistic trance, 
 Nor, Sibyl-like, in mysticism lost, 
 Would we attest to logic s steadfast friends 
 That lack of sense must be the poet s cost. 
 
 But we would strive, like sonneteer Petrarch, 
 Suggestive and condensed our aims to tell ; 
 That o er an out-line page the reader s mind 
 In self-thought volumes lingering may dwell. 
 
 Nor would we forge frail copies of ourselves, 
 Like gifted minds, when, restive, they have sought 
 To swing the hammer of heroic youth 
 Upon the anvil of their rusted thought 
 
PROLOGUE. 15 
 
 The chosen bards, who sang for three-score years 
 Our laureled three, grown old and bearded gray 
 Who hummed the cradle songs of stalwart men 
 Slowly, like swans, must sing their lives away. 
 
 Through fifty solar orbits one of these 
 
 Copied the woods and fields, mountains and sky : 
 
 Flawless reflected by his argent mind 
 
 These pictures, photographed, before us lie. 
 
 A second learnt the Chronicles-of-Eld, 
 To open treasures many long had sought : 
 Bright burns the flame of his magician-lamp, 
 To light the shores that bound the sea of thought. 
 
 The other s lyre told of Athenian lands 
 Of hearts that bled by suffering and wrong ; 
 His wit is love, his grief is hope deferred : 
 Their keenness glistens in his saddest song. 
 
 When these retire, shall harmony be mute 
 Must native voice of melody be sealed? 
 Strike, younger bards, your chords on newer harps, 
 That newer promises may be revealed ! 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 There yet remain proud themes for other strains 
 To draw the picture of these later days 
 To cull the flowers that grow in distant fields, 
 And plant the foreign seed on native ways ; 
 
 To draw the lines of cis-Atlantic scenes 
 To sing the legends of Powhatan s times 
 To chant the hymn of "Paradise Preserved" 
 To ring the bells of Freedom in our rhymes ! 
 
FLOWERS. 
 
 BE welcomed evermore, ye lovely sprites ! 
 
 My greeting lips in homage touch your robes. 
 
 From out the debris of departed things, 
 
 By some strange magic starting from the ground, 
 
 Ye breathe, and live a silent, sainted life : 
 
 The while ye nod and flutter in the air, 
 
 Your fragrance rises, like a welcomed prayer ; 
 
 Your colors blend, akin to sunset hues ; 
 
 Your forms are shapes that fairies well might choose. 
 
 Would ye could tarry here : in this rude world 
 
 Too soon ye droop ; by human touch profaned, 
 
 Ye shrink, and slowly wither at my side. 
 
 Whence came ye tell me, whither do ye hide ? 
 
 Do unseen spirits weave your gossamer shroud ? 
 
 Do ye dissolve, to rise a silvery cloud? 
 
 Would that this clay, beyond life s measured hours, 
 
 In ashes laid might change to lovely flowers; 
 
 That o er some silent and forsaken tomb 
 
 Again in living emblems I might bloom. 
 
THE PILGRIMAGE TO KEVLAAR, 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINE. 
 I. 
 
 THE mother stood at the window, 
 On the bed her sick son lay ; 
 " Arise and come hither, dear William, 
 The procession is coming this way." 
 
 " I am very feeble, dear mother, 
 Too faint to listen or see ; 
 When I think of dying Gretchen, 
 The world seems all lost to me." 
 
 " Come forth with rosary and prayer-book, 
 Let us both for Kevlaar depart ; 
 Tis there that the mother of Jesus 
 Heals many an aching heart." 
 
THE PILGRIMAGE TO KEVLAAR. 19 
 
 From spires gay flags were flying, 
 In the streets solemn chants were sung ; 
 And as the procession moved onward, 
 All the bells of Cologne were rung. 
 
 Soon the throng was joined by two pilgrims 
 
 A mother, with son by her side; 
 
 And both sang " Ora pro nobis^ ^ J^ J[{ A 11 V 
 
 To Mary, the heavenly bride. 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 CALIFORNIA. 
 
 _ 
 
 The mother of Jesus at Kevlaar 
 To-day wears her costliest gown ; 
 For they say that she will be busy 
 With the many cripples in town. 
 
 The lame and sick crowd around her, 
 With the numerous offerings they bring : 
 Waxen arms, waxen legs do they offer 
 Waxen hearts waxen many a thing. 
 
 For to him that offers a wax hand, 
 The wound on his own hand shall heal ; 
 And he that offers a wax leg, 
 No longer leg pains shall feel. 
 
20 THE PILGRIMAGE TO KEVLAAR. 
 
 To Kevlaar went many on crutches 
 Who now can dance on the rope ; 
 And some now play the viola, 
 That were palsied in hand beyond hope. 
 
 The mother she took a wax taper, 
 And moulded it into a heart : 
 Son, offer this to the Blessed Virgin, 
 That your anguish, for aye, may depart." 
 
 Soon did he kneel with his offering 
 To the image so holy and blest; 
 As teardrops rolled from his eyelids, 
 Agony streamed from his breast. 
 
 Thou saintly mother of Jesus, 
 Thou spotless and heavenly queen, 
 My poor heart from sin and suffering, 
 Thy mercy alone can clean. 
 
 " My mother and self are dwelling 
 In proud Cologne, on the Rhine ; 
 Tis a city of stately churches, 
 Whose many altars are thine. 
 
THE PILGRIMAGE TO KEVLAAR. 21 
 
 Adjoining our cottage lived Gretchen ; 
 She is dead now, and laid to rest. 
 This waxen heart do I bring thee 
 Wilt thou heal the wound in my breast ] 
 
 " Mend thou my heart s deep anguish, 
 And morning and night, each day, 
 Through life will I chant thy glory, 
 And many a litany pray." 
 
 III. 
 
 When the suffering youth and his mother 
 Had returned to their chamber small, 
 There at night time the Blessed Virgin 
 Entered unknown to all. 
 
 She bent o er the feeble one gently, 
 And laying her hand so light 
 On the beating heart of the sleeper, 
 She smiled and vanished from sight. 
 
 Tn a dream the mother beheld it, 
 Like a vision that moved in a cloud; 
 And as she awoke from her slumber 
 The dogs were barking aloud. 
 
22 THE PILGRIMAGE TO KEVLAAR. 
 
 Her son lay stretched beside her, 
 Quiet, and cold, and dead ; 
 And his sunken cheek was gleaming 
 Like a rose, in the morning s red. 
 
 The mother her hands she folded, 
 Faintly she sank on her knee; 
 And the only words she could utter 
 Were " Ave, Ave Marie." 
 
BELLS BY NIGHT. 
 
 TIS Sabbath eve: from the old kirk tower 
 Merrily chime the bells by night; 
 The organ peals with thrilling power, 
 
 And the windows glow with holy light 
 
 Merrily chime the bells by night. 
 
 Tear by year to the pilgrim throng 
 Warningly speak the bells by night : 
 "Life is short, eternity s long; 
 Children of darkness waken to light" 
 Warningly say the bells by night. 
 
 Over the grave of the patriot slain 
 Solemnly rolls a dirge by night : 
 " The good are gathered, like ripened grain 
 Why should we weep when angels delight ?" 
 Solemnly echo the bells by night. 
 
 3 
 
24 BELLS BY NIGHT. 
 
 Lone do I list to a curfew "bell 
 
 That woefully throbs within me to-night ! 
 
 Of waning life its pulsations tell ; 
 
 And many a legend does memory recite, 
 
 That mournfully wrings my heart to-night ! 
 
ODE TO POESY. 
 
 ERE Memnon s shadow 
 Touched charmed ground 
 When time, an infant, 
 Scarce winged his flight 
 Through the long night 
 Of countless ages, 
 Ever the minstrel s 
 Echoes resound. 
 
 Bard, be thou welcome, 
 Who canst inspire 
 Like seer or prophet, 
 And wake the lyre 
 Of thousand strings ! 
 
26 ODE TO POESY. 
 
 Thy strains melodious 
 Earth s future millions 
 Are yet to sing. 
 Thou fill st the goblet 
 With draught refreshing, 
 For wearied pilgrims, 
 That thirst to quaff 
 Ethereal streams. 
 
 In the lone forest 
 To thee the warbling 
 Of bird is worship, 
 And wild-wood rustlings 
 Are spoken language. 
 Thou picturest beauty 
 In desolation. 
 The crowded highway, 
 "Where wealth, usurping, 
 Loads man with labor, 
 To thee is only 
 A tomb of silence. 
 Thy words are blessings, 
 And quick relief; 
 For the heart-stricken, 
 Thou softenest grief; 
 
ODE TO POESY. 27 
 
 To youthful pleasures 
 Givest virtues tone 
 Yea, music s measures 
 Are all thine own ! 
 The hearts of heroes 
 By thee are nerved ; 
 The lips of beauty 
 By thee are moved; 
 Woman s devotion 
 Oft thou hast proved : 
 No better knight 
 Her cause has served. 
 
 On the far ocean, 
 Upon the mountain 
 And on the plain, 
 From fields of battle, 
 Breathed as in prayer 
 Like saintly word, 
 Thy voice is heard. 
 In holy temples 
 Thy strains are sung; 
 Thy words from breaking 
 Hearts are wrung. 
 
28 ODE TO POESY. 
 
 Thus, self-ennobled, 
 By thine own genius, 
 Fame s torch is fired: 
 By sages quoted, 
 In learned orations, 
 Thy texts are noted; 
 And shine through ages 
 On deathless pages ! 
 
THE HAUNTED LAKE. 
 
 SUBJECT FROM THE GERMAN. 
 
 The story of the "Naiad is an old and favorite one in German minstrelsy. Goethe (in the 
 "Fisher"), Heine (in the "Loreley"), and recent authors of less note, present greatly 
 differing versions of the same interesting poetic subject. 
 
 HIGH on the cedar mountain 
 Nestles a deep blue lake, 
 
 And lilies float upon it, 
 White as a snowy flake. 
 
 A shepherd youth went thither, 
 Estray from flock and kine ; 
 He saw the beauteous flowers : 
 " Sweet things, ye must be mine." 
 
 As he his crook extended 
 To reach the lovely prize, 
 
 Behold from neath the waters 
 A maiden s hand arise. 
 
30 THE HAUNTED LAKE. 
 
 It seized a flower and drew it 
 
 Beneath the watery deep : 
 " Come, follow where my secret 
 Together we may keep. 
 
 " Away from idle searches, 
 
 These lilies root beneath; 
 Reach me thy hand, I ll lead thee 
 To twine my bridal wreath." 
 
 The shepherd did not follow : 
 In loneness he repined 
 
 For never could he banish 
 
 The pale flower from his mind. 
 
 He wandered on the mountain, 
 He seemed to fade away ; 
 
 Nor have the woodmen met him 
 Since that eventful day. 
 
L 1 B R A U Y. 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF j 
 
 CALIFORNIA. 
 
 THE SPIRIT S REVELATION 
 
 FORMS beloved, whose memory haunts me, 
 In mementoes near me dwell ; 
 Oft they come in evening visions, 
 Or in dreams their legends tell. 
 
 Sad and lonely, but unspoken 
 Fancy reaches far away 
 When some sudden thrill awakes me, 
 And a seraph seems to say : 
 
 " Though we may not break the secret 
 That the gates of death reveal, 
 In the grey night s gloom and stillness 
 Drawn toward the earth we feel. 
 
32 THE SPIKIT S REVELATION. 
 
 " For there is a strange communion 
 Twixt men and our spirit band; 
 Oft in omens we approach ye, 
 Brethren of our ancient land. 
 
 " From the glittering orb of even, 
 Gliding down upon its beams, 
 Noiseless as the step of Zephyr, 
 Do we visit you in dreams. 
 
 " At the couch of all true-hearted 
 Stand we guardian, in their sleep ; 
 For the loved ones left behind us 
 Do we faithful vigils keep. 
 
 " See, yon spirit mother hovers 
 O er her fondly cherished child 
 Weeps in smiles of tender sorrow 
 Drinks its breath, with rapture wild. 
 
 Playing with her flowing tresses, 
 Pillowed on her heaving breast, 
 Comes the spirit child, to linger, 
 By its mother s lips caressed. 
 
THE SPIRIT S REVELATION. 33 
 
 And the ghostly husband beckons 
 To his mourning, faithful wife ; 
 In yon lunar dwelling bids her 
 Join with him in spirit life." 
 
 Never can the tie be severed 
 Twixt .the hearts that truly love ; 
 And for every friend departed 
 One ye gain in heaven above. 
 
THE GAME OF CHESS. 
 
 CALMLY as an enchanter, oft beside the checkered field, 
 I sit, to guide the puppets small, that mimic history yield. 
 Quick, as the sun of thought sends action to their pulse 
 less hone, 
 Each little form is made to fill a purpose not its own. 
 
 Move on, ye ranks of soldier-pawns, deep mingle in the 
 
 fight- 
 No refuge shall this castle yield unto the errant knight 
 Yon mitred bishop low shall bend, when king and queen 
 
 have fled, 
 And soon this hand, omnipotent, shall lay them with the 
 
 dead! 
 
 This is my Coliseum, where in gladiatorial strife, 
 Perdition-doomed be every one to whom I gave a life ; 
 I register no slavish skill, I heed not chess-born woe : 
 None on that board shall e er aspire my purposes to know ! 
 
THE GAME OF CHESS 35 
 
 Thus men, neath banners black and white, with longings 
 
 all innate, 
 Like puppets, follow out their course, led by the hand 
 
 of fate ; 
 And each brief trial tells this tale : that nought is left to 
 
 choose 
 Where e en the bravest comes to grief, and winners too 
 
 must lose. 
 
 Tis passion leads us all astray, wrapt in delusive thought ; 
 Vain in this labyrinthine world enduring hold is sought; 
 The spring that moves our heart is wound its numbered 
 
 ticks to last; 
 Life s fleeting record only shews the agony of the past. 
 
THE OLD COMEDIAN. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF A. GRUN. 
 
 THE footlights blaze, the curtains rise, 
 And peering are a thousand eyes 
 Where tinselled jugglers strut apace ; 
 With paint begrimed each truthless face. 
 
 Yon mountebank of snowy hair, 
 I well could draw his home despair ; 
 Poor, worn-out, crippled harlequin, 
 His efforts fail respect to win. 
 
 Whilst honored age, though lorn and weak, 
 
 A tutorage with youth may seek, 
 
 This old, obedient, hired clown 
 
 Racks his stiff joints to please the town. 
 
THE OLD COMEDIAN. 37 
 
 Old men, they court repose by night ; 
 The aged arm forgets its might ; 
 Tis raised to guide, or to caress 
 Tis folded prayerful, and to bless. 
 
 Those trembling hands hang by his side ; 
 Those valiant lips his limbs deride ; 
 And when to points the text may soar, 
 With loud guffaw the groundlings roar. 
 
 Though chronic pains may pinch his frame, 
 He must be Momus, ever the same; 
 To those who see him night by night, 
 His tears would prove a rare delight. 
 
 But lo ! how faint the actor speaks : 
 He falters, and an exit seeks. 
 "Old Thespian, hast forgot thy cue? 
 Thy walk s unsteady, thy text untrue ! " 
 
 In vain the old comedian tries 
 To silence insult ; murmurs rise ; 
 Away he totters with alarm, 
 And falls within the prompter s arm. 
 
38 THE OLD COMEDIAN. 
 
 On comedy the curtains rose ; 
 
 On tragedy the players close. 
 
 The vulgar crowd, they whistle and cry 
 
 A dying actor s litany. 
 
 Behind the curtains, within a chair, 
 Ruddy of cheek and brown of hair, 
 A corpse is resting; its brow is cold, 
 And on it a painted lie is told. 
 
 For the mien that made the idle laugh, 
 It looks a solemn epitaph ; 
 False and hollow is all we see 
 His life, his art, were mockery ! 
 
 Never will rustle in nature s breeze 
 Those faded, painted, canvass trees ; 
 And the oily moon that gleams o erhead 
 Never learned to weep for the dead. 
 
 From a motley group, neath a tattered sky, 
 Comes one to speak this eulogy : 
 He fought and fell, as heroes yield, 
 Upon the drama s battle-field." 
 
THE OLD COMEDIAN. 39 
 
 Then a dancing girl, as a beggarly muse, 
 Upon his brow, with shabby excuse, 
 Pressed a laurel wreath that some Caesar had worn 
 A paper invention, dirty and torn. 
 
 His funeral procession numbered two ; 
 Brief was the pageant, the costs were few; 
 And as they laid him away to rest, 
 I heard no pity, I heard no jest. 
 
KAMBLEE, AND SHEPHERD. 
 
 "HAPPY Shepherd, 
 Piping thy lay, 
 Where the flocks 
 Are dancing at play; 
 Life-companion 
 Of lambs and flowers, 
 Counting in roses 
 The toilsome hours ; 
 
 " Though thrush and linnet 
 Have sung in vain, 
 Thy artless ditties 
 My heart regain; 
 And world s ambition 
 Is all forgot 
 In leafy dwelling 
 And shepherd lot ! " 
 
RAMBLER AND SHEPHERD. 41 
 
 " Wanderer, to clrildhood, 
 Gentle and meek, 
 I may in prattle 
 Oft eloquent speak ; 
 And for the maiden 
 My strains can swell 
 To sweet responses 
 No lips dare tell." 
 
 More would lie say 
 But steps drew near : 
 Louder he pipes 
 The melody clear; 
 Sweetly vibrating 
 Resounds a lute, 
 Mingling concord 
 With pastoral flute. 
 
 Nodding ringlets 
 
 And eyes are seen, 
 
 That smile on the shepherd, 
 
 From over the green ; 
 
 Ah, their lustre 
 
 It told of more 
 
 Than all that the shepherd 
 
 Had hinted before. 
 
42 KAMBLEK AND SHEPHERD. 
 
 " Shepherd, thy pastimes 
 My dreams fulfil : 
 Lend me thy pipe, 
 And teach me thy skill; 
 Yield me thy magic 
 Train me thy ways 
 That I too may share 
 In Arcadian days ! " 
 
 Then spake the maiden, 
 Archly, and wise : 
 
 " Fertile our valley, 
 And quiet our skies ; 
 But to "be happy " 
 She whispered to me 
 
 "You, like shepherds, 
 In love must be." 
 
VESUVIUS. 
 
 THY greeting, fairest Italy, 
 
 In numbers I would sing ; 
 
 Thy waves, thy skies, thy women s eyes 
 
 Their sparkling offerings bring. 
 
 Thy lovely bay s cerulean waves 
 Refresh my famished eyes; 
 Earth s towering altar flames on high- 
 Olympian grandeurs rise. 
 
 I view a living pyramid 
 A cauldron self-renewed 
 A cousin of the lunar peaks 
 A monster unsubdued. 
 
44 VESUVIUS. 
 
 Wave-bound, on far Sicilia s isle, 
 Thy brother, jiEtna, sleeps, 
 "Whom, like a captive Titan king, 
 Neptune in durance keeps. 
 
 Linked with a grander fate art thou; 
 Proud Naples kneels to thee, 
 Thoughtful of Herculaneum 
 Beneath the molten sea. 
 
 Twas when thy minions laid waste 
 This now sepulchral spot, 
 Where spectres of the past arise, 
 Of households long forgot. 
 
 From hollow voice came thy commands - 
 In wrath thy white beard shook; 
 Tempests arose and sunlight paled 
 Neath thy defiant look. 
 
 Aloft in air the wild birds screamed, 
 The wild beasts moaned with fear ; 
 From herded men the frantic cry 
 Replaced both prayer and tear. 
 
VESUVIUS. 
 
 They perished all, and chaos came 
 Like deluge passed away ; 
 Where villa, grot and temple stood 
 A pall of ashes lay. 
 
 Slain were thy guards, fair Pompeii 
 Thy hosts, thy guests, have fled ; 
 Strangers now quaff -from Caesar s vaults, 
 And drink to Caesar s dead. 
 
 Old mount, though thou hast Sodom s fate 
 Transplanted to thy home, 
 Thou gains t for art rich legacy 
 From old, imperial Rome. 
 
 L I B R A Li Y 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 CALIFORNIA. 
 
ERL KING S DAUGHTER. 
 
 FROM AN OLD TEUTONIC LEGEND. 
 
 Longfellow s "Poets and Poetry of Europe," in a translation entitled "Sir Olcfa Bridal," 
 presents a Swedish version of this ancient ballad. It would seem that Goethe, when. 
 composing his "Erl King," derived several hints from the materials of the present 
 poem. Professor Aytoun alludes to this circumstance, in a note appended to his trans. 
 lations of the "Poems and Ballads of Goethe," and also renders aversion of the presant 
 ballad 
 
 TWAS night in the forest. Sir Oluf rode by ; 
 He had summoned his wedding company. 
 
 Shadows were dancing on the green land ; 
 The Erl King s daughter grasped his hand. 
 
 " Welcome, Sir Oluf; turn not to flee : 
 Join our revels, and dance with me. 
 
 " I may not dance, I must not stay, 
 For to-morrow will he my bridal day." 
 
 " Listen, Sir Oluf : come join with me, 
 And these spurs of gold thy trophies shall be. 
 
ERL KING S DAUGHTER. 47 
 
 " Wear this robe of gossamer slight, 
 That I ve woven, and bleached by the pale moon-light." 
 
 " ]\Iy vow is another s, time calls away ; 
 I must to the castle ere dawn of day." 
 
 " Relent, noble knight, and enter our ranks ; 
 These jewels shall be my token of thanks." 
 
 " Thy gems are welcome, with them will I ride, 
 To adorn at the altar my trusting bride." 
 
 He took from the elf maid a glittering flower : 
 Sir Oluf was hers from that very hour ! 
 
 His heart was smitten with pangs so sore, 
 That he quailed as he never had done before. 
 
 Fainting, she lifted him on his steed : 
 The iron-cased warrior of help had need ! 
 
 When his steed regained the castle gate, 
 Long had his mother been standing in wait. 
 
 " Whence comest thou, by dawn, my child ? 
 Thy features are pallid, thy look is wild !" 
 5 
 
48 EKL KING S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Mother, I m faint, and unnerved by fright ; 
 I met the Erl King s daughter this night!" 
 
 " Get thee to couch ; evil haunts thee, son ; 
 Thy vows are forfeit, thy bridal s undone ! " 
 
 " Tell the fair lady that I may be found, 
 Training the falcon and coursing the hound." 
 
 Soon morning broke ; by the sunlight clear, 
 Both bride and wedding guests appear. 
 
 They spread the feast, they poured the wine : 
 " Where is Sir Oluf, the bridegroom mine ? 
 
 " Is the gallant knight riding at morn 
 In the tangled forest, estray and lorn?" 
 
 They search the wildwood for many an hour; 
 They scan the castle, from vault to tower. 
 
 By the shrieking bride the guests stand aghast : 
 In a lowly chamber they found him at last. 
 
 Sir Oluf in death on his couch he lay: 
 The elf maid had stolen his life away. 
 
NIAGARA. 
 
 ERE beings with soul and mind arrayed 
 Their earthly habitation had made 
 When the Saurian monsters in agony lay, 
 Stricken by doom, on their beds of clay 
 Like a meteor, illuming some desolate land, 
 Niagara leaped from its Maker s hand ! 
 
 Once spirits of beauty that manhood enslave 
 At nightfall were seen on its emerald wave ; 
 In seraphic strain they whispered a song 
 Whose rapturous concords to Eden belong. 
 They hunted the thicket with spear and with bow, 
 Or called the Naiades from their caverns below, 
 To search for the living trophies that sink 
 In the green gulf of water that flows o er the brink 
 
 A fairy isle trembles on the cataract s crest, 
 Beloved by the waves, that hold it compressed ; 
 
50 NIAGARA. 
 
 And, like worshipping Magii, rainbows arise, 
 
 Neath these acres of paradise dropped from the skies. 
 
 Transition and death now dwell in the smile 
 
 Of the white, foaming rapids that sweep past the isle ; 
 
 Could their waters but cleanse the deep stain of man s sin, 
 
 How many a diver the torrent would win ! 
 
 In vain the Ice-king, whose touch is death, 
 Would stem the wild current, with Arctic breath; 
 With slow-creeping gait, and palsying shock, 
 Though he bind the cataract fast to the rock, 
 Long ere the green blade has pierced the ground, 
 Sunbeams dispel the enchantment around, 
 And the waters rush on to the far distant sea, 
 As if wandering their way to eternity. 
 
TELESCOPE AND FIRMAMENT. 
 
 STARS of evening, isles of promise, 
 Hieroglyphics of the skies 
 Vainly the Egyptian shepherds 
 Read your signs, with weary eyes. 
 
 Happy we, whose quickened senses 
 Reach beyond the airy seas, 
 Where, in space, our life-boat launches 
 Hopeful as the " Genoese." 
 
 "Colon"* found lost "Atalantis," 
 And recovered Earth s domain : 
 Through the glass we ve found our future- 
 View the homes our spirits gain. 
 
 * Christopher Colon, the discoverer of America. 
 
52 TELESCOPE AND FIRMAMENT. 
 
 Hail to science ! from whose teaching 
 Rajs of revelation beam: 
 Stars to worlds become exalted 
 From the beacon-lights they seem. 
 
 Thus, the globe shrinks in dimension, 
 We but fill an atom s place; 
 Holier climes are floating round us, 
 Peopled by a mightier race. 
 
 When the compact has expired 
 Twixt our soul and earthly frame, 
 And this spirit from its thraldom 
 Rises like a heavenly flame ; 
 
 Planet sires our forms may fashion 
 Call us from the "vasty deep;" 
 Out of laps of saintly mothers 
 We to infant life may creep. 
 
 God of wonders ! where thy marvels 
 Stun our mind and stay our breath,. 
 There I read: we shall not perish 
 In the idleness of death. 
 
LENORE-. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN. 
 
 Von Arnim and Brentano, the compilers of a, valuable collection of ancient German poem* 
 entitled GtS Snabm JHuntlErfjOrn," assert that Burger s ballad "Lenore " is 
 founded on the following poem. Burger, who is guilty of having passed several transla 
 tions from English authors as his own original composition, says : he derived the 
 conception of his best achievement from an imperfect refrain that he casually overheard 
 when sung by a peasant girl. Voss. a good literary scholar, and oo-temporwy of Burger 
 remarks that the version incorporated in the collection of Von Arnim and Brentano la 
 equally modern with that of Burger. 
 
 ABO YE the stars are twinkling 
 The moon is shining bright 
 And the dead they ride by night. 
 
 "My love, wilt ope thy window; 
 I cannot long remain, 
 And may not come again. 
 
 1 The cock already crows 
 Tells of the dawning day, 
 And warns me far away. 
 
54 LENOKE. 
 
 " My journey distant lies ; 
 Afar with thee, my bride 
 A hundred leagues we ll ride. 
 
 In Hungary s fair land 
 I ve found a tranquil spot: 
 A little garden plot. 
 
 "And there, within the green, 
 A little cottage rests, 
 Befitting bridal guests." 
 
 " Oh thou hast lingered long ; 
 Beloved, welcome here 
 Lead on, I ll never fear." 
 
 " So, wrap my mantle round ; 
 The moon will be our guide, 
 And quick by night we ll ride." 
 
 When will our journey end 1 
 For heavy grows my sight, 
 And lonely is the night." 
 
LENORE. 5/5 
 
 " Yon gate leads to our home ; 
 Our "bridal tour is done 
 My purpose now is won. 
 
 " Dismount we from our steed j 
 Here lay thy aching head 
 This tomb s our bridal bed. 
 
 " Now art thou truly mine : 
 I rode away thy breath 
 Thou art the bride of death ! " 
 
MARRIAGE. 
 
 LOVE S magnet-like by instinct hearts are mated; 
 To live in pairs, we were in pairs created. 
 
 Tis wedlock wins the heritage of earth ; 
 Then squander not thy claim to man s estate. 
 Though anchorite and nun lead barren lives, 
 Ours is the fate to dwell in living hives ; 
 And when at length in death these shores we flee, 
 Children renew life s bond eternally. 
 
 All ties of home are transient : younger claims 
 Soon ask a sister s, or a brother s care ; 
 Death leads away our parents, friends enstrange 
 Their habits, our convictions, how they change ! 
 When time has flung its burden on thy back, 
 What bliss to have a loved-one by thy side, 
 Who, hand-in-hand, has wandered far with thee. 
 Toward the portals of eternity. 
 
MARRIAGE. 
 
 Seek not mong vain and night-parading things 
 For company with whom to link thy fate : 
 For them thy purse must golden grains distil, 
 That they may moult gay feathers at their will ; 
 To perch in gilded cage on rose-wood frames, 
 And feed from crystal cups, are all their aims. 
 By night may st thou thy paragon dove display 
 Although she prove an owl concealed by day 
 That wives may envy and men emulate 
 Home misery and happiness of state ! 
 
 Go, find some truer type of woman-kind ; 
 One moved by kindred soul, thy peer in mind, 
 Whose aspirations will not fail to show 
 A wife in feeling, a mother in embryo ; 
 Whose every purpose twining with thine own 
 Completes itself when both to one are grown. 
 
THE GRENADIEKS. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINE. 
 
 Most of Heine s Poems have been successfully interpreted by recent 
 English and American translations. 
 
 T WAKDS France were wandering two grenadiers, 
 
 From Russian captivity returning ; 
 And when to the German encampment they came, 
 
 With pain their wounds were burning. 
 
 They bowed their heads, when they heard the tale 
 That the empire s star had vanished ; 
 
 Scattered and slain were the heroes of old, 
 And Napoleon, the conqueror, banished ! 
 
 Then together wept these guardsmen old, 
 
 At the tales so oft repeated; 
 Said one : " Comrade, I sink with shame, 
 
 When I think of our armies defeated." 
 
THE GRENADIERS. 59 
 
 The other replied : " We are undone ! 
 
 Death soon would hide my anguish, 
 Had I not wife and child at home, 
 
 Where now in want they languish." 
 
 " I heed not wife, I heed not child, 
 
 Since pur country s greatness has vanished ; 
 Weep hungry wife, beg orphan child 
 Our emperor s degraded and banished ! 
 
 " Comrade, grant me one only boon : 
 
 If in stranger s land I perish, 
 Convey my corpse to its native soil 
 France the home that we cherish. 
 
 " This cross of honor, with ribbon red, 
 
 To victory shall guide me; 
 This musket place in my left hand, 
 And gird my sword beside me. 
 
 "Hid in the grave, I ll listen still, 
 Like a picket, lonely camping, 
 Till I hear the drum s and musket s din, 
 And the cavalry s loud tramping. 
 6 
 
60 THE GRENADIERS. 
 
 " When the emperor returns, to win again 
 
 Lost battle-fields so gory, 
 Then quick I ll rise, a warrior armed, 
 To fight for France and glory T" 
 
A NIGHT VISION. 
 
 I KNOW not how it happened that 
 
 One evening, lone and late, 
 
 I rested from a weary walk, 
 
 Beside a church-yard gate ; 
 
 The street was hushed, the stars shone out, 
 
 The city s lights grew pale ; 
 
 I heard nought but the watchman s tap, 
 
 And night-bird s lonely wail. 
 
 I thought of life, its hope and strife, 
 
 Of idols neath the dust ; 
 
 And many a deep-set hinge was moved, 
 
 That long had gone to rust : 
 
 Relentless doom, that youth and strength 
 
 Should waste away and fall j 
 
 Ah, why is nature s life-crop sown 
 
 That death may harvest all ! 
 
62 A NIGHT VISION. 
 
 Thus as I mused a vision crept 
 From bush and mossy stone : 
 Methought a muffled form approached, 
 Like one whom I had known. 
 The image lived, the image spoke, 
 In accents soft and slow : 
 " I bring thee echoes of the grave, 
 From wanderings below. 
 
 " Too early severed were the ties 
 That clustered round my birth ; 
 Friend-less and child-less have I lived, 
 Nor e er knew woman s worth. 
 The demon of gain soon conquered me, 
 And I became his slave; 
 My purse was haunted with tear and curse, 
 For I took, but never gave. 
 
 " Beneath the sod I sought repose ; 
 
 But at the door of death 
 
 No welcome came : this worn-out trunk 
 
 Refilled with living breath, 
 
 And veiled in gloom, a seraph spoke 
 
 In tones of wonderous sound : 
 Return to life, within this tomb, 
 
 No refuge can be found. 
 
A NIGHT YISION. 63 
 
 " The widow and the orphan seek, 
 Go, heal their suffering deep, 
 And o er life s path sow fertile seed, 
 That blessings thou may st reap. 
 Through manhood back to infancy 
 Thy life once more retrace, 
 Till thou at last, a sinless babe, 
 Canst meet thy Maker s face. 
 
 " Electric flashes then illumed 
 These eyes so heaven-blind; 
 These icy limbs were thawed to life, 
 Aroused this feeble mind. 
 Oh, wearied sense, blunted desire, 
 That I from rest am driven, 
 To spin once more the thread of life, 
 And wend my way from heaven ! " 
 
 The cricket chirped the vision fled ! 
 
 Twas dewy morning hour; 
 
 I felt alike some hapless wretch, 
 
 Keleased from demon-power. 
 
 Why did this coward flesh with fear 
 
 Wax motionless, and cold ] 
 
 For in a dreaming was to me 
 
 This spectral legend told. 
 
A WINTER S EIDE. 
 
 FOUNDED ON A GERMAN BALLAD BY G. SCHWAB. 
 
 ON snow-fields shimmers the sunlight clear, 
 A horseman rides through the forest drear. 
 
 Onward he spurs t ward Constance Lake; 
 His steed flies, panting, o er field and brake 
 
 Away it strides, to its utmost reach, 
 Afar in the sky the snow-geese screech; 
 
 And the water-fowl flutter, with startled cry, 
 As the twain, like spectres, are hurrying by. 
 
 They would reach the ferry ere night sets in, 
 In safety the furthermost shore to win. 
 
A WINTER S HIDE. 65 
 
 Not guide nor wayfarer meet their gaze, 
 To lead them safely o er trackless ways. 
 
 H. 
 
 Evening creeps into dusky night ; 
 
 In the distance glimmers a flickering light. 
 
 The ground now rustles with stone and thorn ; 
 Faintly resounds the mountaineer s horn. 
 
 Dogs bark loud at the rider s side; 
 The village-inn opens its portals wide. 
 
 " Fair dame at the doorway, that beckonest to me, 
 How far am I distant from Constance Sea ?" 
 
 The landlady, lost in wonder, replies : 
 " Its deep blue water behind thee lies." 
 
 The stranger shuddered, and faintly spake : 
 " I found no ferry I saw no lake." 
 
 Then the startled villager raised her hand : 
 " Twas the ice that bridged thee from land to land ! 5> 
 
66 A WINTER S RIDE. 
 
 And the gathering crowd was heard to say : 
 " In the keeping of God did he find his way." 
 
 III. 
 
 " Dismount and partake of cheer and repose ; 
 Warm thy chilled blood that sluggishly flows. 
 
 " Recount by the hearthstone thy marvellous ride ; 
 How the sure-footed steed bounded over the tide " 
 
 The traveller heard not their welcoming calls : 
 Faint and benumbed from his horse he falls. 
 
 The fearful illusion had stricken his brain 
 That he rode the snow-fields over again. 
 
 He heard the crash, and he felt the wave : 
 In the abyss of waters he found his grave. 
 
IMMORTALITY. 
 
 APAE, we stretch our bold, unbounded thought- 
 Yearn for a future that we all expect; 
 Are we a toy, for saintly pastime formed 
 Or are we shadows of an angel sect ? 
 
 Why should our Maker plant a vain desire 
 Or hopeless aim in our confiding breast 1 
 Why cast us off, like self-deluded clowns, 
 To waste or perish in our tomb of rest ? 
 
 Clear-visioned grows the blinded owl by night; 
 The insect scents its mate, though far away ; 
 The lizard s nerves foretell the coming storm : 
 We feel the advent of some future day. 
 
68 IMMORTALITY. 
 
 Earth s driven sands count many as of yore ; 
 Each cloud, dispersed, in raindrops shall unite ; 
 Thus our stray lives will gather once again 
 Within their native realm of truth and light. 
 
 We know God in his mystery has ordained 
 That human spirits shall descend to earth, 
 And that our buried dust may rise again, 
 To shape some infant struggling for its birth. 
 
 But ne er this mind, that earthly things controls 
 May linger here, nor shall " to dust return ; " 
 Death strikes the fetters from our heaven-born souls, 
 And gleans our ashes in the mourner s urn. 
 
L 1 B K A K Y ^j 
 
 UNIVEliSITY OF I 
 
 CALIFORNIA. 
 
 THE GIANT S PLAYTHING. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF CHAMISSO. 
 
 IN Alsace lies a castle, by many a tale renowned, 
 Within whose walls, in olden time, a giant race was found. 
 Its towers are decked with mosses and tumbled in decay; 
 In vain you ask of giants their race has passed away. 
 
 Once went the giant s daughter beyond the fastness strong, 
 And wandered heedless onward, the rocks and wilds among j 
 Neath precipices creeping, she sought the plains below 
 Through clouds and mist descending, where glistening 
 rivers flow. 
 
 With eager step she strided through orchard and o er field, 
 T ward Haslach s blooming valleys, that golden harvests 
 
 yield; 
 From forge and mill and cottage, whence smoky vapors 
 
 curled, 
 She heard the busied humming within the pigmy world. 
 
70 THE GIANT S PLAYTHING. 
 
 And as she gazed intently, with wonder-stricken eye, 
 
 A lonely peasant wandered within a field of rye ; 
 
 Strange seemed the little creature, thus creeping in the 
 
 green, 
 And like a gem the little plow gleamed with its silvery 
 
 sheen. 
 
 " Oh what a pretty plaything within the grass I ve found," 
 Said she, and quickly spreading her kerchief on the ground, 
 Within its folds of linen the living heap she brushed, 
 And tied it up with caution, that nothing should be crushed. 
 
 Then like a child she gambolled towards the castle s height, 
 With wond rous trophies freighted, to glad her parent s sight : 
 " Come hither, dearest father, strange beings have I found ; 
 These curious little creatures were crawling on the ground !" 
 
 The father sat at table, regaling him with wine 
 
 For giants oft were thirsty, and giants too must dine ; 
 
 " What floundering object bringst thou within thy kerchief 
 
 tied 
 Thou t breathless as a vampire, and giddy as a bride ! " 
 
 The living heap was lifted and oped with eager hand : 
 Lo, peasant, plow and oxen before the father stand j 
 More curious than playthings that are a child s delight, 
 So dwarf-like, so amusing they seemed to giant s sight. 
 
THE GIANT S PLAYTHING. 71 
 
 Then frowned the earnest parent, and shook his bushy head; 
 " Kestrain thy truant rambles," the stalwart father said ; 
 " Replace these pilfered tokens, else sorrow comes of joy 
 These cattle are not playthings, the peasant is no toy ! 
 
 " For farmer, plow and oxen purvey our daily food ; 
 Without their menial labor earth were a solitude ; 
 Their toil supplies our coffers, and grows our flesh and bone : 
 We have by others efforts to size and power grown ! " 
 
 In Alsace lies the castle, by many a tale renowned, 
 Within whose walls, in olden time, a giant race was found ; 
 Its towers are decked with mosses, and tumbled in decay : 
 Would that the thoughtful giants had never passed away ! 
 
BURIED ALIVE. 
 
 IN quest of living ruins have I come 
 
 To view the past in. this Mausoleum, 
 
 Where banished greatness, lost to happier days, 
 
 Like moonlight ruins opens to our gaze. 
 
 Here dwells the sage who oft, a suitor bold, 
 Unveiled coy nature one who could unfold 
 The springs of human heart now grown akin 
 To Nebuchadnezzar, whom the curse of God 
 Sent to the fields, to pasture on the sod. 
 Not wit nor learning light that darkened mind ; 
 A seeming Centaur man and beast combined 
 A savage, clown and seer I view in thee 
 An ogre come to flesh reality 
 Who in this lonely place exhorting calls 
 Rats from their holes, and spiders from their walls ! 
 
BUEIED ALIVE. 73 
 
 Tearful appeals alas, thou heedst them not ! 
 Long have thy kindred been by thee forgot. 
 What though thy fame s in every household known, 
 Thyself to mankind art a stranger grown 
 What though thy wasted form partake of bread 
 Thy mindless body represents the dead ! 
 
 Give utterance ! That stare which frightful seems, 
 Can it be " rambling in the land of dreams ? " 
 Teach us to comprehend the signs that tell 
 Whither with airy shadows thou dost dwell. 
 Methinks some Eurydice has led astray 
 To hold thy spirit spell-bound far away ? 
 Hast thou too ardent wooed the Muse of Song 
 Too deeply worshipped Bacchus, and too long? 
 Would that our prayers, with telegraphic speed, 
 Could reach thy captive spirit in its needj 
 In vain we call " return thou errant son, 
 To us, from purgatorial wandering won." 
 
EGYPT. 
 
 WHERE wind-moved sands roll o er the desert ground, 
 No flower blooms, nor song-bird flits around ; 
 There, by the moon, the fierce hyena howls 
 Mong ruins, where the Vengeful Bedouin prowls, 
 Guerrilla-like to slay each Frankish man, 
 Or overcome th unguarded caravan. 
 
 Monsters forgot are buried neath the plain. 
 And ruined temples lay like giants slain; 
 There the shame-visaged Sphynx* sinks in her bed, 
 Whilst the proud pyramid still lifts its head, 
 Upbraiding time, conversing with the skies 
 The desert blast and thunderbolt defies ! 
 The sorcerer s art and wily power unknown 
 That won these trophies from a distant zone ; 
 Old as geology itself they seem, 
 Though faint their history, like an infant s dream! 
 
 * The profile of this ancient deity was grossly mutilated by the Saracens, during 
 the middle ages. Modern investigation has shown that its colossal body lies deeply 
 sunken beneath the drifted sands of the desert. 
 
EGYPT. 75 
 
 The race that planted Thebes above the ground, 
 That waked these altars to prophetic sound, 
 Were neither winged nor giant, black nor red. 
 These catacombs disclose the honored dead, 
 Whose mummied forms do yet await the day 
 When souls shall come unto their former clay. 
 From out these temples came the living word 
 Of science, and the knowledge of the Lord, 
 Whence Plato copied, well-taught Moses drew 
 The inspirations and the truths they knew. 
 Oh, recent Joseph, shepherd Pharaoh* 
 None of these ancient Thebans did ye know ; 
 Greek Cleopatras and Ptolemys, 
 To you were veiled Barneses mysteries ! 
 On stony page, by chisel skill defined 
 Time s record lives : our mental vision s blind 
 Our cunning s baffled and the link that bound 
 Us to the primeval past may ne er be found. 
 
 * Historians explain that the term "pharaoh" was a general one, applied to 
 successive rulers of lower Egypt by an alien nomadic tribe, who in the time of 
 " Joseph " had overrun and conquered a portion of the Egyptian territory. 
 
THE RECOGNITION. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF VOGL. 
 
 THERE comes a wanderer, staff in hand, 
 Homeward returning from distant land. 
 
 His , beard is tangled, his face is brown ; 
 
 Will they know him again in his native town ? 
 
 Enraptured he nears the city-gate, 
 
 Where the toller of yore is standing in wait. 
 
 Twas a youthful comrade, true and fast; 
 Once many a wine-cup between them passed. 
 
 Tet strange the toll-gatherer knows him not? 
 Do beard and sunshine his features blot? 
 
THE RECOGNITION. 77 
 
 He shakes the dust from his trodden boot; 
 He turns in silence, with "brief salute. 
 
 Behold his true-love stands at the door: 
 " Thou blooming fair-one, welcome once more ! " 
 
 But the maid, unconscious, remains unmoved ! 
 She knows not the voice of her once-beloved. 
 
 He bends his step t wards childhood s home ; 
 To his cheek so brown the teardrops come. 
 
 Near the cot his mother is wending her way : 
 " God bless thee, beloved!" tis all he can say. 
 
 The mother she turns and shouts with joy; 
 In her arms she is clasping her truant boy. 
 
 Though the sun may swart, and the beard may grow, 
 The mother, the mother her son doth know. 
 
THE AGE OF PROGRESS. 
 
 HOW happy in this solitude to dwell! 
 Where whispering thoughts their admonitions tell ; 
 God s handiworks extort my feehle praise ; 
 Each rising sun shall "bring me Sabbath days. 
 
 Delay ye nights that frost the forests red, 
 Paint not the leafy shrouds of autumn s dead, 
 But spare these blooming woodland scenes to me, 
 Where thought and legend dwell in every tree. 
 
 Faint grow the stories of the pioneer ; 
 
 The revolution s landmarks disappear; 
 
 The rustic plow o erturns th historic ground, 
 
 And ripening grain waves o er its gore-drenched bound 
 
THE AGE OF PROGRESS. 
 
 The yoked kine, the ever plodding mill, 
 Show nature humbled by man s restless will ; 
 The clover mead and flowered garden-path, 
 They are the captive valley s epitaph. 
 
 Hushed are the war-whoop and respondent scream; 
 No more the stag, wolf-hunted, seeks the stream; 
 The stilted crane no longer flaps his wings 
 On reedy marge, where meek the robin sings. 
 
 Where Mohawk hunter chased the woodland herd, 
 Aloft, like castled knight, the royal bird 
 Maintains his sway, and views with glaring eyes 
 The shepherd flock the marksman s skill defies! 
 
 And truant cascades leap from sylvan fount, 
 Past winding paths, that hug the stalwart mount, 
 Climbing to heights, from whence, in outlines gray, 
 Deep shadows consecrate the parting day. 
 
 Ye oaks that stand athwart the mountain breeze, 
 Your tops shall wave in distant India s seas, 
 And quick as ye receive the woodman s shock, 
 The powder-fiend shall cleave the stubborn rock ! 
 
THE AGE OF PROGRESS. 
 
 Anon the granite block shall face the skies, 
 Beared far on high, where saintly spires arise ; 
 Lakes shall be drained, mountains by inches fall : 
 Man s art will smite and overcome them all! 
 
 Alas ! beneath this ever-changing moon 
 The Age of Progress hurries on too soon : 
 Youth s rosy haunts man s searches ne er may find- 
 For fleeting time leaves memory far behind. 
 
EXTEKNAL PIETY. 
 
 TIS Sabbath-piety moves the worldly-wise 
 
 Tis church-religion blinds our credulous eyes; 
 
 For refugees an anchor in despair 
 
 A cloak for madness, that fanatics wear. 
 
 Though howling wolves would not destroy each other, 
 
 Sect curses sect, brother, alas, dooms brother ! 
 
 Rank orthodoxy is the set-up price 
 
 That wins the golden keys of paradise ; 
 
 Whilst law is studied as the week-day code, 
 
 To guide the pious on their worldly road. 
 
 Mayhap some eulogy proclaims aloud 
 
 A genteel exit from a genteel crowd, 
 
 Of one who knelt at prayer with yielding mind, 
 
 Thoughtless in zeal, though studiously blind; 
 
 "Who took the Word entire a strict believer 
 
 Though God had marked him out an arrant thiever; 
 
 Who oft in holy walks forsook his race, 
 
 That he might church-ward turn his saintly face. 
 
82 EXTERNAL PIETY. 
 
 Chant anthems, and give benedictions ! he 
 Through legacies has bridged eternity. 
 Mong chosen men he consecrated lies 
 Where willows droop and epitaphs arise ; 
 A sickening, solemn mockery of truth, 
 Doubted by age, but oh ! believed by youth. 
 
THE SLEEP OF BARBAROSSA. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF RUCKERT. 
 
 STB have treated the same subject in matre. 
 
 THE Emperor Barbarossa 
 Still hides in caverns deep, 
 
 Among his ancient courtiers, 
 Fast bound in magic sleep. 
 
 The glory of his empire 
 
 Long since has passed away : 
 
 He will revive its splendor, 
 At no far-distant day. 
 
 Upon a throne of ivory 
 Reclines the hero old ; 
 
 His mighty arms uplifted 
 
 Both sword and sceptre hold. 
 
 8 
 
84 THE SLEEP OF BARBAROSSA 
 
 The beard that marks the Kaiser 
 In rays of fire glows, 
 
 And through the marble tablet 
 Into his lap it grows. 
 
 He nods, like one inspired, 
 
 And blinks from dreamy eyes j 
 
 He draws a breath profoundly 
 Then bids a page arise. 
 
 Thus in his trance he speaketh 
 " Go boy without, and look 
 If round this castle-turret 
 Still flies the olden rook. 
 
 "And if the rook and raven 
 
 Yet dwell beneath these skies, 
 A hundred years must follow 
 Ere from my sleep I ll rise." 
 
THE EXPLORER. 
 
 FOREVER onward! rest forbodes decay; 
 
 I breathe to live, I live for earthly sway ! 
 
 My spirit longs, my every sense devours 
 
 The scenes that glide away with time s swift hours, 
 
 Forever onward ! why should distance hide 
 The land, the ocean both expanding wide 
 Toward the polar waste and torrid zone, 
 Where flame the skies, or verdure is unknown. 
 
 I tramp the main, and I invade the sea ; 
 A ruler s stride o er earth was given me. 
 Thy term brief, hurried life I dedicate 
 To search the records of man s huge estate. 
 
86 THE EXPLORER. 
 
 When youth no more in living embers glows, 
 When staff, or crutch, at length ordain repose, 
 Then may I tell of nobler trophies won 
 Than thou hast gathered, vain Napoleon. 
 
FADING AWAY. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF STORM. 
 
 THE cottage chamber is close and still; 
 Within is a patient, weak and ill. 
 
 His fevered brow throbbed wildly by night ; 
 His heart is sick, his eye shuns light. 
 
 He holds the watch in his withered hand, 
 
 Whilst his life runs out, like the hour-glass* sand. 
 
 In silence he marvels if breath will last 
 
 Till the minute hand thrice o er the dial has passed. 
 
 A faithful attendant is watchful and near, 
 Awaiting day dawn with sorrow and fear. 
 
88 FADING AWAY. 
 
 Now it dawne ! the shadows of midnight depart 
 Death slowly winds round that faint throbbing heart. 
 
 Up on the window the morning rays creep ; 
 Bird and maiden awaken from sleep. 
 
 Freshened nature lives over her youthful hours, 
 And May-bells ring in the feast of flowers. 
 
 Merry young plowmen rove o er the green, 
 
 Where robins are heard, and bright flowers are seen. 
 
 Forsaken and lone seems that little room 
 
 Where the nurse has watched o er the sick one s doom. 
 
 From his staring eye beams no living light ; 
 His hands are folded stiff and tight. 
 
 She has drawn the sheet ; without tear or word 
 She departs ; no breathing, no whisper are heard. 
 
WINTER WEATHER. 
 
 The quickening flood-rays of sunlight and heat 
 Stream far away South to the song-bird s retreat. 
 
 In feathery flocks frail creatures of air 
 Alight on the grainfields stiff-frozen and bare. 
 
 Like a freebooter prisoned, in penance and woe, 
 In the belfrey sits hungry the black-a-moor crow. 
 
 Bristled pines revel in snowy delight, 
 
 As if robed and begemmed for a festival night. 
 
 O er the diamond-decked cot of the emerald vale 
 The moon sheds its frost-beams spectral and pale. 
 
 The blast laps the hearth-fire, and pipes by the door, 
 Looks in at the window, and searches the floor. 
 
90 WINTER WEATHEB. 
 
 Withered leaves rustle in skeleton groves ; 
 
 In the rattling tree-boughs the North- Wind roves. 
 
 The North- Wind that tracks the explorer s lost way, 
 By the chrystalline bridges that span Baffin s Bay : 
 
 He has whirled on Earth s axis, and swept the blear pole ; 
 At his coming the surf-bells their monody toll. 
 
THE EECKONER. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF VOGL. 
 
 A PLODDING- reckoner, with thought intent, 
 Mindful of gains, o er his cyphers bent. 
 
 Ever his hand the inkstand sought; 
 
 He solved in figures the knottiest thought. 
 
 Thus toiling and reckoning day by day, 
 Already his hair was changing to gray. 
 
 And silently whispered the raau-of-bone : 
 " Thy balance-sheet, brother, must soon be shown." 
 
 Then went the reckoner to view the fields, 
 And feast on the bounties that nature yields. 
 
92 THE RECKONER. 
 
 Flowers were blooming, fragrant and bright : 
 But tlie cyphers, confusing, dimmed Ms sight. 
 
 Birds were piping their careless trill : 
 But loudly echoed the scratching quill. 
 
 Clouds were decked with golden rays: 
 He saw only visions of inky ways. 
 
 * Twas then he cast a penitent look 
 
 At desk, and counter, and manuscript book. 
 
 Oh mournful the day when he penned each page, 
 -And reckoned glad youth into desolate age ! 
 
STARS AND STRIFES. 
 
 WE RE a people we re a power 
 Nations, heed the solemn word ! 
 Taunt not, lest this revelation 
 From the cannon s mouth be heard ! 
 
 Each trained man swings scythe and sabre, 
 Each boy learns to fight and farm; 
 Steel and powder are our safeguards 
 Keen our vision, strong our arm. 
 
 Many empires are absorbed 
 In this vast and fertile land; 
 Afric s nor Siberia s deserts 
 Mockingly our bounds expand. 
 
STARS AND STRIPES. 
 
 To Weak climes, where, plant forsaken, 
 Forge and shuttle work the gains, 
 Onward sails the peace armada, 
 Bearing harvests from our plains. 
 
 Nevermore shall labor languish, 
 Paralyzed by tyrant might j 
 For our "Stars" they are unfurled 
 To dispel want s cloudy night. 
 
 Fierce barbarians must not plunder, 
 Nor may lorded serfs defy ; 
 For our " Stripes " shall flash upon them, 
 Like the lightning from the sky, 
 
 And when traitor foes are gathered 
 Where the battle s thunder roars, 
 Let the blue-gemmed badge mount higher 
 Than the bird of freedom soars : 
 
 Spread from mastheads, crowning mountains, 
 Streaming o er the tented field, 
 Victory e er betides our heroes 
 Right and might will never yield ! 
 
WAYFARING. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF RUCKERT. 
 
 I KNOCKED in vain at the rich man s door : 
 A farthing is all he gives to the poor. 
 
 Gently I tapped at affection s gate : 
 Ten others were wooing, I was too late. 
 
 Fain would I approach honor s castled abode : 
 No spurs had I won, no palfrey I rode. 
 
 Where industry toiled, a pittance to gain, 
 I met only rags, starvation and pain. 
 
 Through life have I sought the abode of content 
 It beckoned, but vanished when nearer I went. 
 
 
 
96 WAYFARING. 
 
 One cottage I found twas grassy and low ; 
 Thither for refuge at last I may go. 
 
 Its portals are open, to welcome each guest; 
 There many before me in silence sought rest. 
 
PEDANTRY. 
 
 FROM rote and maxim liberate the mind, 
 That every problem thought-solution find 
 For living action best can illustrate 
 The lineaments of every mind-portrait. 
 
 Our schoolboy teachings, meted out by rule, 
 Class embryo sage too oft with embryo fool ; 
 And many a pampered Solon leaves his class 
 Head and accomplished, but matured, alas, 
 On musty precept learning s hierophant 
 To stifle progress, by his weighty cant ; 
 Whilst fruitful thinkers delve within themselves - 
 And shun the oracles from library shelves. 
 The God-like attribute, inventive power, 
 Has dawned on them, in an inspired hour ; 
 They scatter the dry leaves of barren lore, 
 And pierce each problem to its very core. 
 
PROCRASTINATION. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE OLDEN GERMAN. 
 
 " MOTHER, dear mother, hungry am I ; 
 Pray give me food, or else I will die." 
 
 " Patience, my child, and thou shalt eat : 
 Early to-morrow we ll sow the wheat." 
 
 To-morrow came, and the wheat was sown ; 
 But the child still moaned with piteous tone : 
 
 " Mother, dear mother, hungry am I ; 
 (Pray give me food, or else I will die.") 
 
 " Patience, my child, thy longing restrain : 
 To-morrow morning we ll gather the grain/ 
 
PROCRASTINATION. 99 
 
 And when the sheaves all gathered lay, 
 Faintly the child was heard to Bay : 
 
 " Mother, dear mother, hungry am I ; 
 (Pray give me food, or else I will die.") 
 
 " Patience, my child, and dry thy tears 
 To-morrow we ll thresh the wheaten spears." 
 
 And when the threshing had all been done, 
 The mournful infant anew begun : 
 
 " Mother, dear mother, hungry am I ; 
 (Pray give me food, or else I will die.") 
 
 " Soon, my child, approaches the hour : 
 To-morrow the miller will grind the flour." 
 
 And after the grain had all been ground, 
 The child continued its wailing sound : 
 
 " Mother, dear mother, hungry am I ; 
 (Pray give me food, or else I will die.") 
 
100 PROCRASTINATION. 
 
 " The bread is kneaded, my darling one ; 
 To-morrow the baking will be begun." 
 
 The bread was baked, at dawn of day 
 But famished and dead the infant lay. 
 
PHASES OF LIFE. 
 
 MAN S life lias phases three-fold, and they blend 
 To vary the monotony of time. 
 First are pursuits, where every move is strife, 
 That creature comforts to the household brings, 
 From trophies conquered in material things. 
 As wit encounters wit, so man seeks man, 
 Outreckoning his fellow where he can, 
 And gracefully, by action most unkind, 
 O ercomes the weak and too confiding mind. 
 Thus godly men, of carnal instinct, play 
 A most ignoble part from day to day. 
 
 At night we homeward rove, to seek repose j 
 Our advent there the lonely day s event, 
 Our plodding changed to greeting and embrace; 
 We mount a brother s, son s and father s place. 
 Here streamlet, tree and flock are all our own; 
 "We rule a prince, upon a household throne ! 
 
102 PHASES OF LIFE. 
 
 Stolen from sleep, or by the wayside dreamt, 
 Our spirit life springs to vitality. 
 In lone communion self responds to self; 
 What mean our thoughtless aims, we often ask- 
 Is life a boon, or shall it be a task? 
 But holier moments come, as from within : 
 When life s gay panorama no more haunts 
 With vain allurements our capricious taste, 
 We find no harvest gleaned from wilted flowers, 
 And ask " whence fled life s evanescent hours 1 " 
 When strife is banished, peace awakes a chord 
 Of prayerful, joyous tribute to the Lord, 
 That tells, " the grave is but a shaded way 
 Leading from visions of an unreal world; 
 Where death, by silent witchery, transforms 
 Life s dismal night to light-enchanted day." 
 
L I B R A K Y 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 CALIFORNIA. 
 
 VENETIAN GONDOLIERS. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF CHAMISSO. 
 
 IN purple glows the evening, 
 And gently rises the gale ; 
 Whilst many a gay gondola 
 Has trimmed its fluttering sail. 
 
 " Tis joy," quoth a maid to her lover, 
 
 " This roving o er the brine ; 
 Spread out our sail to the breezes, 
 Let the helmsman s place be mine." 
 
 Thou steerest too rashly, beloved, 
 Afar in the open sea : 
 Our skiff is frail and helpless, 
 And the waves run wild and free." 
 
104 VENETIAN GONDOLIERS. 
 
 "Must I distrust our vessel? 
 Why should I doubt to-day ? 
 Who ever in thee confiding, 
 In evil hour gave way 1 " 
 
 "Art frantic? Turn the rudder 
 Thou bringst us both to woe; 
 Already wind and billow 
 Have play with our frail canoe." 
 
 " Then let the angry waters 
 Have with these planks their play; 
 The rudder is unfastened 
 Despair now leads the way ! 
 
 " From virtue hast thou guided 
 To ruin have I led; 
 Quick, make thy peace with heaven, 
 Thy final prayer be said! 
 
 Why tremble, base deceiver, 
 Beneath this glittering steel ? 
 My agony is deeper 
 Than all that thou canst feel. 
 
VENETIAN GONDOLIERS. 105 
 
 " Too many a maiden, betrayed, 
 
 In silence pines to death; 
 
 My crowning deed be vengeance 
 Love be my dying breath." 
 
 The youth his hands was wringing, 
 Of his own guilt beknown ; 
 She struck the steel in his bosom, 
 Then sank it into her own. 
 
 A wreck was seen at morning, 
 Borne landward by the flood : 
 There lay the lifeless lovers, 
 United in their blood. 
 
THE PLEIADES. 
 
 TWAS leap-year night ; fleet time had stayed his round ; 
 
 Mankind were housed, and fast in slumber bound. 
 
 As wearily I on my couch reclined, 
 
 Strange fancies lit my lonely wandering mind; 
 
 Each nerve seemed quickened by mysterious power, 
 
 That stole o er me, in this lone, stilly hour. 
 
 Upon the wall, within reflected light, 
 
 Methought I viewed the antics of some sprite : 
 
 Softly I rose, half conscious, half in awe, 
 
 To near the shadowy vision that I saw. 
 
 Then as I gazed from window overhead, 
 
 From each star hung a bright, electric thread, 
 
 Gleaming like unto meteoric light, 
 
 Suspending winged, seraphic, floating forms, 
 
 That shone in colors more than rainbow-hued ; 
 
 That sang in concord more than harmony; 
 
 Graceful as flowers, elfins by pedigree 
 
THE PLEIADES. 107 
 
 Higher in form than woman s loveliness 
 Whose beauty language falters to express. 
 
 Spell-bound and way-led, did I ask myself 
 What charm had brought adown each truant elf; 
 Or if my mind, waked from a fever trance, 
 Had run astray, to some weird phantom-dance. 
 Closely I listened, and soft strains I heard, 
 More dulcet-toned than song of warbling bird. 
 But soon they ceased, and then the weary sound 
 Of low-born men and earthly things resound ; 
 The visions floated as thin vapors rise 
 The reddening day-break drew them t ward the skies ; 
 When moonlight paled each found a home afar, 
 And vanished distant as the polar star. 
 Out of their song these syren strains remain 
 I may not sing, but word them o er again : 
 
 Seven are we, 
 Of stellar degree, 
 Eelics from olden 
 Mythology. 
 To the constellations 
 On high we fled, 
 Ere the Son-of-Man 
 Arose from the dead. 
 10 
 
108 THE PLEIADES. 
 
 " In childhood we roved 
 In this valley of death, 
 Where our spirits, clay-prisoned, 
 Drew heavenly breath ; 
 Ere time, the destroyer, 
 Bid Olymp pass away, 
 And gave life the canker 
 Of early decay. 
 
 " Slain are Dragon, 
 Centaur and Faun; 
 Wood-nymphs have perished, 
 The Titans are gone. 
 Since fact and reason 
 Rule temporal things, 
 Men are exalted 
 To beggarly kings. 
 
 " Serpent and songster 
 Rest neath the same shade ; 
 Felon and judge 
 Out of brothers are made ; 
 One doomed a vagrant, 
 One born princely heir 
 Lifted to greatness, 
 Or hurled to despair. 
 
THE PLEIADES. 
 
 " Seven are we, 
 Of stellar degree, 
 Belies from olden 
 Mythology. 
 To the constellations 
 On high we fled, 
 Ere the Son-of-Man 
 Arose from the dead. 
 
 4t Since the gods, star-banished 
 "Were lost to power, 
 Spirits of heauty 
 Lurk in the flower, 
 Or nestle beneath 
 The humming-bird s wing, 
 And their eyes peer out 
 From each gem-decked ring. 
 
 "Belted Orion 
 Now shimmers above : 
 Pursuing the sister 
 That fled from his love ; 
 With the speed of Atlanta, 
 Equipped for the chase 
 He has sent the fleet comet 
 To seek her in space. 
 
 109 
 
110 THE PLEIADES. 
 
 " Safe in the clouds 
 The rain-storm is pent; 
 Boreal winds 
 To their caves are sent ; 
 The moon have we burnished 
 To noon-da y light ; 
 For we sister Pleiades 
 Have revels to-night. 
 
 " Children of dream-land, 
 Guests of the night, 
 Sirius beckons 
 The hour * * * 
 Gather * * * 
 Spirits of air, 
 * * * away 
 From this planet of care. * 
 
DEAD AUTHORS. 
 
 UNNUMBERED volumes look from yonder shelves 
 With beggar s mien, and crave our charity, 
 Stale, and unpetted by the scholar s hand, 
 Voiceless, in mock-solemnity they stand, 
 Like tombstone records ; and each title-page 
 Tells of rash men, drowned in oblivion s sea 
 By the avenging muse of Poetry. 
 
THE WATER SPRITES. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINE. 
 A BUBLESQUE ON "DEB WASSERMAN " AND " LOKELBT "* 
 
 TIS a festive night : the grove is illumed, 
 And the guests have rallied for pleasure ; 
 Soon a stranger couple join in the dance 
 That moves in fantastical measure. 
 
 Graceful they swing, lightly they trip, 
 
 In ways that some mischief betoken : 
 
 They smile at each other, they shake their heads 
 
 Till the charm by a whisper is broken. 
 
 Quoth the maiden : " Sir Knight, I see by thy crest, 
 With its purple and low-bending lily, 
 That was plucked from the ocean s bed below, 
 Thou art not of Adam s family. 
 
THE WATER SPRITES. 113 
 
 " Thou art the Merman, come to decoy 
 Some credulous villager s daughter ; 
 I knew thee at once, by thy fish-bony teeth, 
 And thy bitter perfume of sea-water." 
 
 Onward they whirl through the maze of the dance, 
 In antics each other outvieirig; 
 They smile at each other, they shake their heads 
 Quoth the swain, in soft accents replying : 
 
 Fair lady, thy hand is so searchingly cold 
 "Whence came the green gloss of thy tresses ] 
 Tis marvellous why, neath this summery sky, 
 So mouldy the seam of thy dress is ! 
 
 " Well did I know, as we joined in the waltz, 
 Thou wert none of earth s lap-nursed creatures 
 I knew thee, Loreley, by thy motionless eye, 
 And the moon-bleached hue of thy features." 
 
 The music grows weary, the dance is done 
 They part with formal greeting : 
 They know each other by far too well, 
 And shun a similar meeting. 
 
MISERY AND KEMOESE. 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE OLDEN GERMAN- 
 
 " JOSEPH, dear Joseph, thou hast blighted my fame, 
 And doomed thy own Annie to woe and to shame. 
 
 " Joseph, loved Joseph, wherever I go, 
 Despair comes before me thy sin is my woe. 
 
 " And the finger of scorn points to yonder lone field, 
 Where I, among wretches, my body must yield. 
 
 " Have mercy, ye judges, and hasten my end ; 
 My words of forgiveness to Joseph I send." 
 
MISERY AND REMORSE. H5 
 
 Soon an ensign came riding, his colors he waved : 
 The verdict is stayed, from disgrace she is saved. 
 
 Oh ensign, brave ensign, too late thy relief: 
 Death s angel, more speedy, has solaced her grief. 
 
ON WINGS OF SONG AND MUSIC 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF HEiNS. 
 
 ON wings of song and music, 
 Beloved, I d waft thee away, 
 
 To the flowering banks of Ganges, 
 Forever blooming and gay. 
 
 Its floral realm shall receive thee, 
 Illumed by the silent moon ; 
 
 There the lotus flowers are longing 
 To greet their companion soon. 
 
 There violets nod and flutter, 
 Or gaze on the stars above; 
 
 And roses, with eloquent fragrance, 
 Recount their legends of love. 
 
ON WINOS OF SONO AND MUSIC. 117 
 
 Within the spice-groves are lurking 
 
 The innocent, cunning gazelles ; 
 And distant is heard the rushing 
 
 Of the holy tide, as it swells. 
 
 Under the palm will we linger, 
 Housed from the open skies, 
 
 In raptures of love and contentment 
 Dreaming with open eyes. 
 
TO A COQUETTE. 
 
 Vo~WS of love are only whispered, 
 Holiest words are from us wrung; 
 And the heart s most deep affection 
 Seldom yet has poet sung. 
 
 Maid, twere well that others knew thee, 
 And the danger in thine eyes 
 That, like the taper s flame alluring, 
 Burn the dazzled evening-flies. 
 
 Thou hast humbled the confiding, 
 Mocked at many a lover s vows 
 Till thy bosom s " milk of kindness 
 Curdled with corruption flows. 
 
TO A COQUETTE. H9 
 
 And the venom of thy nature, 
 Jaundice-like, will spread within, 
 Until, desperate, thy ambition 
 Leads thee on to greater sin. 
 
 Widowed hearts still linger round thee, 
 Made more solemn than by death ; 
 Soon thou lt shudder at thy loneness 
 Curse thy fate, with dying breath. 
 
 Beauteous image of destruction, 
 Blossom of the Upas tree, 
 Silken serpent, I ve uncoiled thee : 
 Never strike thy fangs at me. 
 
YB 13552 
 
 U.C.BERKELEY LIBRARIES 
 
Sr f 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 ! t;,- N V 
 
 
 -