THE SWALLOWS

Ode translated from Ronsard.

God shield ye, heralds of the spring, Ye faithful swallows fleet of wing, Hoops, cuckoos, nightingales.

Turtles and every wilder bird That make your hundred chirpings heard Through the green woods and dales ; God shield ye, Easter daisies all.

Fair roses, l^uds, apd blossoms small.

And ye whom erst the gore Of Ajax and Narciss did print.

Ye wild thyme, anise, balm and mint, I welcome ye once more.

God shield ye, bright embroidered train Of butterflies that on the plain Of each sweet herblet sip ; — And ye new swarm of bees that go

LARMES ET SOUninES 423

Where the pink flowers and yellow grow,

To kiss them with your hp.

A hundred thousand times I call

A hearty welcome on you all ;

This season, how I love

This merry din on every shore,

From winds and storms whose sullen roar

Forbade my steps to rove.

FIDELITY

A poem translated from Jasmin.

Now nature all lies free from care, And all is calm beneath the heaven ; The hawk is calling through the air, The owl succeeds the bird of even :

-Alas ! I drain the cup of woe, I smile no more beneath the sky.

My friend is lost to me below.

Now I must droop and die.

Oh ! moon of love, droop down the sky ; Thou givest me too great a sorrow, No gleams of peace from thy fair eye, No calmness from thy look I borrow ; Thy gentle smile so pale and dim Recalls me to my misery ; Oh ! moon of love, far, far from him, My friend, I die, I die.

The nightingale, the flowers, the air Announce no more that spring advances ; The daisy shining soft and fair No more, my heart of hearts entrances, No more around me earth has thrown Her charm — Death is my remedy.

My friend has left me all alone.

I pine — I faint — I die.

THE BUTTERFLY

Translated from Lamartine.

To be born with the spring, With the roses to die, On the wing of a zephyr To sail 'neath the sky ; To be rock'd upon flow'rs, Half oped to the sight, To be sated with perfume With azure and light, Shaking ofl" when yet young From its bright wings the dust, ' Then to realms everlasting To speed like a gust Is the butterfly's fate.

Enchanting and blest.

Resembling our wishes Which never can rest. And which unreplenished, Though wide in their range, At last seek in heaven Fulfilment and change.

i*i4 LAilMES ET SOURIRES