"Deuce take it!" he exclaimed, and rubbed his ear, "This will make seven, and we had five before; How shall we keep the wolf from off the door? Why, in bad weather, as it was, the fare Often ran short-'tis hard to see one's way. No doubt Well! I can't help it 'tis the Lord's affair. At evening they will play about our knees, Brothers and sisters all. When the Lord sees That we have got to feed and clothe two more, He'll send more fish into our net. Besides I can drink water, and work double tides, That's settled-run and fetch them-'tis not far, What! vexed? I never saw you move so slow before!" She turns and draws the curtains-"There they are!" VICTOR HUGO. (Translated by L. C. S.) [By kind permission of Messrs. Daldy, Isbister, & Co.] MIDNIGHT MASS FOR THE DYING YEAR. Yes, the Year is growing old, And his eye is pale and bleared! The leaves are falling, falling, Caw! Caw! the rooks are calling, A sound of woe! Through woods and mountain-passes And the hooded clouds, like friars, There he stands in the foul weather, Crowned with wild flowers and with heather, Then comes the summer-like day, Bids the old man rejoice! His joy! his last! Oh, the old man gray Gentle and low. To the crimson woods he saith, To the voice gentle and low Of the soft air, like a daughter's breath, "Pray do not mock me so! Do not laugh at me!" ABOU BEN ADHEM AND THE ANGEL. Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase) Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord." The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night It came again with a great wakening light, And showed the names whom love of God had blessed, And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. LEIGH HUNT. THE BELLS. Hear the sledges with the bells— What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, While the stars that oversprinkle Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the tintinnabulation that so musically wells From the jingling and the tinkling of the bells. Hear the mellow wedding-bells, What a world of happiness their harmony foretells! What a liquid ditty floats To the turtle-dove that listens, while she gloats Oh, from out the sounding cells, How it dwells On the Future! how it tells Of the bells, bells, bells, bells, To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells! Hear the loud alarum bells Brazen bells! What a tale of terror, now, their turbulency tells ! In the startled ear of night How they scream out their affright! |