DANTE.

TUSCAN, that wanderest through the realms of gloom,
With thoughtful pace, and sad, majestic eyes,
Stern thoughts and awful from thy soul arise,
Like Farinata from his fiery tomb.

Thy sacred song is like the trump of doom;
Yet in thy heart what human sympathies,
What soft compassion glows, as in the skies
The tender stars their clouded lamps relume'
Methinks I see thee stand, with pallid cheeks,
By Fra Hilario in his diocese,

As

up the convent-walls, in golden streaks, The ascending sunbeams mark the day's decrease; And, as he asks what there the stranger seeks,

Thy voice along the cloister whispers, "Peace!"

THE SEA HATH ITS PEARLS.

FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINRICH HEINE.

THE sea hath its pearls,

The heaven hath its stars;

But my heart, my heart,

My heart hath its love.

Great are the sea and the heaven;

Yet greater is my heart,

And fairer than pearls and stars

Flashes and beams my love.

Thou little, youthful maiden,

Come unto my great heart;

My heart, and the sea, and the heaven Are melting away with love!

POETIC APHORISMS.

FROM THE SINNGEDICHTE OF FRIEDRICH VON LOGAU. SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.

MONEY.

WHEREUNTO is money good?

Who has it not wants hardihood,

Who has it has much trouble and care,

Who once has had it has despair.

THE BEST MEDICINES.

Joy and Temperance and Repose
Slam the door on the doctor's nose

SIN.

Man-like is it to fall into sin,

Fiend-like is it to dwell therein,

Christ-like is it for sin to grieve,

God-like is it all sin to leave.

POVERTY AND BLINDNESS.

A blind man is a poor man, and blind a poor man is ; For the former seeth no man, and the latter no man sees.

Lutheran, Popish, Calvinistic, all these creeds and doctrines

three

Are extant; but still the doubt is, where Christianity may

be.

THE RESTLESS HEART.

A millstone and the human heart are driven ever round;

If they have nothing else to grind, they must themselves be

ground.

CHRISTIAN LOVE.

Whilom Love was like a fire, and warmth and comfort it

bespoke ;

But, alas! it now is quenched, and only bites us, like the smoke.

ART AND TACT.

Intelligence and courtesy not always are combined;
Often in a wooden house a golden room we find.

RETRIBUTION.

Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small;

Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all.

TRUTH.

When by night the frogs are croaking, kindle but a torch's

fire,

Ha! how soon they all are silent! Thus Truth silences the

liar.