THE ANGEL AND THE CHILD. FROM THE FRENCH OF JEAN REBOUL.* AN angel with a radiant face "Dear child! who me resemblest so," It whispered," come, O come with me! Happy together let us go, The earth unworthy is of thee! "Here none to perfect bliss attain; The soul in pleasure suffering lies; Joy hath an undertone of pain, And even the happiest hours their sighs. "Fear doth at every portal knock; Never a day serene and pure From the o'ershadowing tempest's shock "What, then, shall sorrows and shall fears 66 66 Ah no! into the fields of space, Away shalt thou escape with me; And Providence will grant thee grace Of all the days that were to be. 'Let no one in thy dwelling cower In sombre vestments draped and veiled; But let them welcome thy last hour, As thy first moments once they hailed. "Without a cloud be there each brow; And waving wide his wings of white, * The Baker of Nismes. JASMIN, the author of this beautiful poem, is to the South of France what Burns is to the South of Scotland, -the representative of the heart of the people,-one of those happy bards who are born with their mouths full of birds (la bouco pleno d'aouzelous). He has written his own biography in a poetic form, and the simple narrative of his poverty, his struggles and his triumphs, is very touching. He still lives at Agen on the Garonne; and long may he live there to delight his native land with native songs Those who may feel interested in knowing something about "Jasmin, Coiffeur "-for such is his calling-will find a description of his person and mode of life in the graphic pages of Béarn and the Pyrenees (Vol. i., p. 369, et seq.), by Louisa Stuart Costello, whose charming pen has done so much to illustrate the French provinces and their literature. I. Ar the foot of the mountain height When the apple, the plum, and the almond tree On a Wednesday morn of Saint Joseph's Eve: The roads should blossom, the roads should bloom, So fair a bride shall leave her home! Should blossom and bloom with garlands gay, This old Te Deum, rustic rites attending, Of rosy village girls, clean as the eye, Each one with her attendant swain, Came to the cliff, all singing the same strain: Resembling there, so near unto the sky, Rejoicing angels, that kind Heaven has sent For their delight and our encouragement. Together blending, And soon descending "The roads should blossom, the roads should bloom, So fair a bride shall leave her home! Should blossom and bloom with garlands gay, It is Baptiste, and his affianced maiden, The sky was blue; without one cloud of gloom, When one beholds the dusky hedges blossom, To sounds of joyous melodies, That touch with tenderness the trembling bosom, Gaily frolicking, A band of youngsters With fingers pressing, Till in the veriest Madness of mirth, as they dance, They retreat and advance, Trying whose laugh shall be loudest and merriest; While the bride, with roguish eyes, Sporting with them, now escapes and cries: "Those who catch me This year shall be!" And all pursue with eager haste, Meanwhile, whence comes it that among What lovers! they give not a single caress! These are grand people, one would say. What ails Baptiste? what grief doth him oppress ? In yon cottage, by whose walls Stand the cart-house and the stalls, And you must know, one year ago, That Margaret, the young and tender, Love, the deceiver, them ensnared; But alas! the summer's blight, The dread disease that none can say, All at the father's stern command was changed; The golden chain they round him throw, To marry Angela, and yet Is thinking ever of Margaret. Then suddenly a maiden cried, Here comes the cripple Jane!" And by a fountain's side It is that Jane, the cripple Jane, But for this once the village seer And from beneath her eyebrows thin and white Changing colour, as well he might, When the beldame, wrinkled and gray, Takes the young bride by the hand, And, with the tip of her reedy wand, Making the sign of the cross, doth say :- Lest, when thou weddest this false bridegroom, |