Another a happy wedding-day,
And the bride a lovely boy straight-

way.

All comes to pass as she avers; She never deceives, she never errs.

But for this once the village seer Wears a countenance severe, And from beneath her eyebrows thin and white

Her two eyes flash like cannons bright

Aimed at the bridegroom in waist-
coat blue,

Who, like a statue, stands in view;
Changing color, as well he might,
When the beldame wrinkled and
gray

Takes the young bride by the hand,
And, with the tip of her reedy wand
Making the sign of the cross, doth

say:

"Thoughtless Angela, beware!
Lest, when thou weddest this false
bridegroom,

Thou diggest for thyself a tomb !" And she was silent; and the maidens fair

Arrived! yet keeps aloof so far! And knows that of my night he is the

star!

Knows that long months I wait alone, benighted,

And count the moments since he went away!

Come!

That I

keep the promise of that happier day,

may keep the faith to thee I plighted!

What joy have I without thee? what delight?

Grief wastes my life, and makes it misery;

Day for the others ever, but for me Forever night! forever night! When he is gone 't is dark! my soul is sad!

I suffer! O my God! come, make me glad.

When he is near, no thoughts of day intrude;

Day has blue heavens, but Baptiste has blue eyes!

Within them shines for me a heaven of love,

What are two drops of turbid rain? Saddened a moment, the bridal train Resumed the dance and song again; The bridegroom only was pale with fear;

And down green alleys
Of verdurous valleys,
With inerry sallies,
They sang the refrain:

tude!

Earth I forget, and heaven, and all distresses,

When seated by my side my hand he presses;

But when alone, remember all! Where is Baptiste? he hears not when I call!

A branch of ivy, dying on the ground,
I need some bough to twine around!

should bloom,

True love, they say, in grief doth more

abound!

What then when one is blind?

"Who knows? perhaps I am forsaken!

Ah! woe is me! then bear me to my grave!

O God! what thoughts within me
waken!

Away! he will return! I do but rave!
He will return! I need not fear!
He swore it by our Saviour dear ;
He could not come at his own will;
Is weary, or perhaps is ill!
Perhaps his heart, in this disguise,
Prepares for me some sweet surprise!

"I know it!" answered Margaret; Whom the vision, with aspect black as jet,

Mastered again; and its hand of ice Held her heart crushed, as in a vice! "Paul, be not sad! 'Tis a holi

day;

To-morrow put on thy doublet gay!
But leave me now for a while alone."
Away, with a hop and a jump,
went Paul,

And, as he whistled along the hall,
Entered Jane, the crippled crone.

"Holy Virgin! what dreadful heat!
I am faint, and weary, and out of
breath!

But thou art cold, art chill as death;

My little friend! what ails thee, sweet?"

"Nothing! I heard them singing home the bride;

And, as I listened to the song,
I thought my turn would come
erelong,

Thou knowest it is at Whitsuntide.
Thy cards forsooth can never lie,
To me such joy they prophesy,
Thy skill shall be vaunted far and

wide

weak and weary !

so dreary,

A voice seemed crying from that grave

it,

He must pronounce one word at least!

man's side

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 im

mortal,

Baptiste," she said, "since thou hast wished my death,

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

No,

tended,

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,
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 LE GUI

BARÔZAL

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.

INTRODUCTION.

SHOULD you ask me, whence these stories?

Whence these legends and traditions,
With the odors of the forest,

With the dew and damp of meadows,
With the curling smoke of wigwams,
With the rushing of great rivers,
With their frequent repetitions,
And their wild reverberations,
As of thunder in the mountains?

I should answer, I should tell you, "From the forests and the prairies, From the great lakes of the Northland, From the land of the Ojibways, From the land of the Dacotahs, From the mountains, moors, and fenlands,

Where the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
Feeds among the reeds and rushes.
I repeat them as I heard them
From the lips of Nawadaha,
The musician, the sweet singer."

Should you ask where Nawadaha Found these songs, so wild and wayward, Found these legends and traditions,

I should answer, I should tell you,
"In the bird's-nests of the forest,
In the lodges of the beaver,
In the hoof-prints of the bison,
In the eyry of the eagle!

"All the wild-fowl sang them to him,
In the moorlands and the fen-lands,
In the melancholy marshes;
Chetowaik, the plover, sang them,
Mahng, the loon, the wild-goose, Wawa,
The blue heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah,
And the grouse, the Mushkodasa!"

If still further you should ask me,
Saying, "Who was Nawadaha?
Tell us of this Nawadaha,"

I should answer your inquiries
Straightway in such words as follow.
"In the Vale of Tawasentha,
In the green and silent valley,
By the pleasant water-courses,
Dwelt the singer Nawadaha.
Round about the Indian village
Spread the meadows and the corn-fields,
And beyond them stood the forest,
Stood the groves of singing pine-trees,
Green in Summer, white in Winter,
Ever sighing, ever singing.