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Rustling like a summer rain,
Througli her fingers falls the grain;
Swells her voice in such sweet measure
I must join for very pleasure;
But my lay shall be oi her,
Bright and lovely Winr.ower!

When her song to laughter merges,

Melts the music of her tongue,
Like the voice of silver surges

Over golden pebbles flung.
From her hands the grainless chaff

On the light wind dances free;
But a sigh will check her laugh,—

"So much worthlessness, ah me,
Mingles with the good !" saith she.
Yet the grain is fair to see.
Laughter, like some sweet surprise,
Lights again her dewy eyes,
And her song hath drown'd her sighs;
Therefore will I sing of her,
Bright and lovely Winnower!

Down beside as fair a river

Sings the maiden, Poesy,
In my heart shall flow for ever

Her undying melody.
Through her rosy fingers fall

Golden grains of richest thought; But the grainless chaff is all

By the scatt'ring breezes caught: "So much worthlessness, ah me, Mingles with the good!" saith she. Yet the grain is bright to see, Therefore laughs she merrily— Laughs and sings in such sweet measure, I must join for very pleasure; While my heart keeps time with her, I will praise the Winnower!

NORWAY.

A famous Norwegian ballad, admirably translated by Edward Kenealey.

Norway lies high in the north,

Full of bears, and white with snow,
Its mountains rise aloft from the earth,

And from their peaks the eagles go.
Wildly whistle the northern blasts,

Through the fir-tree tops so brown,
And from the giant cliffs on high,

Tumble the boiling torrents down.

Norway is a glorious land,

Full of honour, and full of mi-ht,
Freedom the badge of its ruling men,

The laws its people all unite:
No cheats are there, no sneaking knaves,

Nor slothful drones, but earnest bands,
Firm as the mountain oak in heart,

True as the steel that arms their hands.

Norway is a glorious ground;—

We dream of our olden men of might,
We think of the wondrous antique days,

When the stars and our fires are bright.
Saga high the heroic lays

Of knight, and dame, and champion, tells;
And oh! what old ancestral pride,

The valiant Northmen's bosom swells.

Norway lies high in the north,

Yet fair and fresh its roses glow;
And over its green and healthy soil,

The sweetest winds of heaven blow,
Its silver brooks in beauty play,

Through forest and grassy mead and dale,
Its corn fields wave, its jocund herds

Wander at will o'er hill and vale.

But it is not the beautiful only lives

In th-s happy land, but the wild sublime,

Torrent, and chasm, and mountains hoar,
Are there from the oldest olden time ;—

Old free Norway! hail, ob, hail!

Hail in the South, and hail in the North,
In mighty mount, and in humble vale,

Our Norsemen—sons of truth and worth.

JOURNEY TO CALIFORNIA.
From a volume entitled Reverberations, published anonymously.

So now the Golden Age is come,
The golden country lies before us,

We leave the plough, we quit the loom,
And merrily we chant in chorus,
"The golden country lies before us."

Away! away ! across the sea,

Through forests vast and wild Savannah,

With fearless heart and footsteps free,
And fed with joy's celestial manna,
We cross the lone and wild Savannah.

Away! away! our hope burns bright,
The golden country lies before us,

Nor rest by day, nor sleep by night,
But forward still and chant in chorus,
"The golden country lies before us."

We travel through a lordly land,
A land of Dream, a realm of Fairy,

Here shine white lakes, and near them stand
Tall trees of graceful shape and airy,
All mirror'd in those lakes of Fairy.

A marble city rises here,

A golden country gleams before us,

Soft lawns, delicious shades appear—
Yet linger not, but chant in chorus,
"The golden country lies before us."

Nay! in this world of rich romance,
One minute, but one minute linger,

See sunny domes and columns glance,
Beneath the morning's rosy finger,
They fade—but yet one moment linger.

Ah no! ah no! we may not stay,
A golden country lies before us,

This fairy dreamwork fades away,

Like youth and love—then chant in chorus, "The golden country lies before us."

Yes, we have left the enchanted ground

Of dream and delicate illusion,
But see what flowers are blooming round,

And wooing us with bright profusion.

One moment stay—'tis no illusion.

O never care for idle flowers,

The golden country lies before us;

Leave poetry for boys, be ours

The truth of life; and chant in chorus,
"The golden country lies before us."

We leave the sunflower with the sun,
The torch-flower burning by the river,

The trumpet-flower to wear alone
His blue and scarlet robe for ever,
We cross the plain, we ford the river.

Ah now! ah now ! the mountains rise,
The golden country gleams before us,

The wealthy man alone is wise,

Is king of men—then chant in chorus,
"The golden country lies before us."

Ah stay! behold those seven small lakes,
Beneath enamour'd woodlands shining,

Mid rustling leaves the breeze awakes,
The bright moss, with an emerald lining,
Clothes pine and cedar, rustling, shining.

The hills—the lakes—the flowers are gone,
The golden country gleams before us,

Youth's visions faded one by one,

The man is wise; and thus, in chorus,
We chant the golden land before us.

Is this your promised land? Is this

The wealth, the wisdom that you proffer?

Is this your sober, waking bliss?
Is this the sceptre that you offer?
Take hence the throne—the crown ye proffer.

Amid red rock and desert sand,
The golden country lies before us,

Famine and hunger hand in hand,

Behind us death, the judgment o'er us,
The golden country gleams before us.

We left the still pure land of dreams,
The fairy world of art and beauty,

Of love and faith, where sunny gleams,
Colour and warm the waste of duty,
And half transfigure it with beauty.

Ah! this is not the world we sought,
No golden country gleams before us,

O give us back our lofty thought,

Our faith, our God, our heaven restore us—
There gleams no golden land before us.

But courage! let us love the true,
Accept as God's best gift the real,

Not only should we think, but do;
Life blossoms now with the ideal,
And our romance shall be the real.

Ah yes! ah yes! we see it all,

A golden country gleams before us,

God still is God, whate'er befall,
Flowers bloom below, stars radiate o'er us,
There gleams a golden land before us.

Above the mist, above the cloud,

Above the darkness and the thunder,

While storms are roaring, wild and loud,
Calm shines a world of awe and wonder,
And there is silence o'er the thunder.

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