Almost with rage; and in her fond despair

She tried to call him through the deafening air.

But when he came not, when from hour to hour
He came not, — though the storm had spent its power,
And when the casement, at the dawn of light,
Began to show a square of ghastly white,

She went up to the tower, and straining out
To search the seas, downwards, and round about,
She saw at last, she saw her lord indeed
Floating, and washed about, like a vile weed;
On which such strength of passion and dismay
Seized her, and such an impotence to stay,
That from the turret, like a stricken dove,

With fluttering arms she leaped, and joined her drowned

love.

Leigh Hunt.

THE HELLESPONT.

WAVE unto shore in an embrace

WAVE Doth ever rue;

The dawn to cheer the wild-flower's face
Distils the dew.

The wind of evening makes its moan

To cypress-tree;

To terebinth the turtle low

Plains mournfully.

When all save grief hath found repose,
The moon doth speak,

And to the dormant waves disclose
Her pallid cheek.

Sophia, thy white dome doth seem
To greet blue heaven;

And pensively the heaven's calm dream
To God is given.

Or dove or rose, or wave or tomb,
Or rock or tree;

All here below hath somewhere room
Itself to free;

But I, alone, am all alone,
And there is naught

Save, Hellespont, thy sombre tone
Gives back my thought!

Théophile Gautier. Tr. C. F. Bates.

DARDANELLES.

MAR, far away across the sea,

FAR,

In the still hours when I sit dreaming
Often and often I voyage in seeming;
And sad is the heart I bear with me,
Far, far away across the sea.

Yonder, toward the Dardanelles

I follow the vessels disappearing, Slender masts to the sky uprearing; Follow her whom I love so well, Yonder toward the Dardanelles.

With the great clouds I go astray;

These by the shepherd wind are driven
Across the shining stars of heaven
In snowy flocks, and go their way,
And with the clouds I go astray.

I take the pinions of the swallow,
For the fair weather ever yearning,
And swiftly to the sun returning;
So swiftly I my darling follow
Upon the pinions of the swallow.

Homesickness hath my heart possessed,
For now she treads an alien strand;
And for that unknown fatherland
I long, as a bird for her nest.
Homesickness hath my heart possessed.

From wave to wave the salt sea over,
Like a pale corpse I always seem
On floating, in a deathlike dream,
Even to the feet of my sweet lover,
From wave to wave the salt sea over.

Now am I lying on the shore

Till my love lifts me mutely weeping, And takes me in her tender keeping, And lays her hand my still heart o'er, And calls me from the dead once more.

I clasp her close and hold her long. "O, I have suffered sore," I cry,

"But now we will no longer die!” Like drowning men's my grasp is strong; I clasp her close and hold her long.

Far, far away across the sea,

In the still hours when I sit dreaming,
Often and often I voyage in seeming;
And sad is the heart I bear with me,
Far, far away across the sea.

Théodore Aubanel. Tr. H. W. Preston.

Kacelyevo.

THE LAST REDOUBT.

KACELYEVO'S slope still felt

The cannon's bolts and the rifles' pelt;

For a last redoubt up the hill remained,
By the Russ yet held, by the Turk not gained.

Mehemet Ali stroked his beard;

His lips were clinched and his look was weird;
Round him were ranks of his ragged folk,
Their faces blackened with blood and smoke.

"Clear me the Muscovite out!" he cried.
Then the name of "Allah!" echoed wide,
And the fezzes were waved and the bayonets lowered,
And on to the last redoubt they poured.

One fell, and a second quickly stopped

The gap that he left when he reeled and dropped; a third straight filled his place;

The second,

The third, and a fourth kept up the race.

Many a fez in the mud was crushed,
Many a throat that cheered was hushed,
Many a heart that sought the crest
Found Allah's arms and a houri's breast.

Over their corpses the living sprang,
And the ridge with their musket-rattle rang,
Till the faces that lined the last redoubt
Could see their faces and hear their shout.

In the redoubt a fair form towered,

That cheered up the brave and chid the coward; Brandishing blade with a gallant air,

His head erect and his bosom bare.

"Fly! they are on us!" his men implored;
But he waved them on with his waving sword.
"It cannot be held; 't is no shame to go!"
But he stood with his face set hard to the foe.

Then clung they about him, and tugged, and knelt; He drew a pistol from out his belt,

And fired it blank at the first that set

Foot on the edge of the parapet.

Over that first one toppled: but on

Clambered the rest till their bayonets shone;