119

THE SPIRIT'S LAND.

JOAN OF ARC, FROM THE GERMAN OF SCHILLER

KNIGHT TOGGENBURG, FROM the German oF SCHILLER

THE YOUNG CAPTIVE, FROM THE FRENCH OF ANDRÉ
CHÉNIER

MAN, A POEM ADDRESSED TO LORD BYRON, FROM THE

FRENCH OF LAMARTINE

129

145

THE GULF OF BAIÆ, FROM THE FRENCH OF LAMARTINE

AUTUMN, FROM THE FRENCH OF LAMARTINE

THE LAKE, FROM THE FRENCH OF LAMARTINE

185

191

THE SWIMMER.

Gott helf dir, braver Schwimmer.

SCHILLER.-Wilhelm Tell.

He waits not looks not-leaps into the wave,
Strives through the surge.

BYRON.-The Corsair.

Down from the tall rock's craggy brow,

Many a fathom deep,

Into the watery realms below,

Where the sea-nymphs vigils keep,

He is gone, without a thought of harm,
Snatching a reckless joy,

With sturdy manhood's sinewy arm,

And the heart of a fearless boy.

B

Glittering gem as a prize he'll bear,
Or a beauteous coral steal,

Or a golden lock from the Naiads fair
That the ocean-depths conceal.

Taught from his birth alone to brave
The fears of the vasty deep,

Or high on the lap of a sullen wave
Like a cradled child to sleep.

Oh! there is an ever new delight,

Where the swimmer loves to roam,

'Mid the rolling surge and the breakers white Of the sea-bird's billowy home;

And his spirit swells, and his heart expands, As in thought he travels far

O'er the broad expanse of the azure lands,

To the grave of the falling star.

But see! with the glance of an eagle's eye,

That swimmer bold looks back

He hath caught a long and a frantic cry,
And a shriek on his lonely track.

Little he recks if aid be near,

Or whether his strength be spent ;

For what should a sturdy swimmer fear

In his own wild element?

And he breasts the surge of the rising storm With a sinewy stroke and strain,

And he wins the spot where a helpless form

Is toss'd on the angry main.

He wins the spot,—but a jealous wave

Hath carried his prize away;

And it mocks the toil of the swimmer brave,

As it closes o'er its prey.