NATURE IN LEASTS. As sings the pine-tree in the wind, ΑΔΑΚΡΥΝ ΝΕΜΟΝΤΑΙ ΑΙΩΝΑ 'A NEW commandment,' said the smiling Muse, 'I give my darling son, Thou shalt not preach'; Luther, Fox, Behmen, Swedenborg, grew pale, And, on the instant, rosier clouds upbore Hafiz and Shakspeare with their shining choirs. TRANSLATIONS. SONNET OF MICHAEL ANGELO BUONAROTTI. NEVER did sculptor's dream unfold A form which marble doth not hold In its white block; yet it therein shall find Which still obeys the mind. So hide in thee, thou heavenly dame, The ill I shun, the good I claim; I alas! not well alive, Miss the aim whereto I strive. Not love, nor beauty's pride, Nor Fortune, nor thy coldness, can I chide, Both death and pity, my unequal skill THE EXILE. FROM THE PERSIAN OF KERMANI. IN Farsistan the violet spreads Except the amber morning wind I know that thou, O morning wind! The merchant hath stuffs of price, And gems from the sea-washed strand, But what is gold for, but for gifts? And dark, without love, is the day; And all that I see in Bagdat Is the Tigris to float me away. FROM HAFIZ. I SAID to heaven that glowed above, Hide all the stars you boast; For, in the world of love And estimation true, The heaped-up harvest of the moon IF my darling should depart, And search the skies for prouder friends, God forbid my angry heart In other love should seek amends. When the blue horizon's hoop Me a little pinches here, Instant to my grave I stoop, And go find thee in the sphere. ЕРІТАРН. BETHINK, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest THEY say, through patience, chalk Ah, yes! but by the true heart's blood FRIENDSHIP. THOU foolish Hafiz! Say, do churls DEAREST, where thy shadow falls, ON prince or bride no diamond stone As the light of enterprise Beaming from a young man's eyes. FROM OMAR KHAY YAM. EACH spot where tulips prank their stato Has drunk the life-blood of the great; The violets yon field which stain Are moles of beauties Time hath slain. HE who has a thousand friends has not a friend to spare, And he who has one enemy will meet him everywhere. ON two days it steads not to run from thy grave, On the first, neither balm nor physician can save, FROM IBN JEMIN. Two things thou shalt not long for, if thou love a mind serene; A woman to thy wife, though she were a crowned That he will not demand the debt until the Judgment Day. THE FLUTE. FROM HILALI. HARK what, now loud, now low, the pining flute com plains, Without tongue, yellow-cheeked, full of winds that wail and sigh; Saying, Sweetheart! the old mystery remains, - |