The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1879-03-01

ana make men DO as you please.
Ears were made to burn:
Fee were made 10 show;
Girls were made to f1irt with men,
Bnt men with the giIls-ob, mo-!
Waists were made to hug;
Tongues were made to tune;
Arms were made 10 circle the girls
AND lovers were made to Spoon"
Eyelids were made to droop;
Cnseks were made to blush;
Hair was msas to curl and friz,
AND lips were maue-G
Oh, Hush.
The hush comes like the silence that fol-
lows -bells-the flame is already kindled.
GA New Contributor" offers to the
Drawer translation OF the Dies Ire, and 1t
runs thus:
Day Of Judgment, awful day,
When the world shall pass away,
As both seer and sibyl say.
See the judge descending come
All the earth with terror dumb,
And all heaven looking on.
Hear the mighty trumpet sounding,
All the souls Of mortals drowning
Calling to the Court astounding
See the world in terror quaking,
Deaths grim reign see Christ is breaking
Grand and solemn the awaking.
Book that all mems deeds recorded
For this grim and fearful morning,
Shall be brought and doom awarded.
Jee gulss L. ..Li-s.
- F-~~tut 20 che wortd,s errssgutry,
Fearful crimes the records staining.
Lord, from whom shall plea be taken,
When the just man stands sore-shaken?
By whom shall plant be spoken?
King Of mighty majesty,
Thou who died upon the tree,
Pity, save, and set me freel
Jesus. Jesus, Saviour precious,
Who for Heavens high court hath left us,
Save me in this hour tremendousi
Thou, who by thy passion sought me,
Thou, who hope and life hath brought me,
Thou, who by thy death hath bought me,
Jesus, King aud Judge 50 true,
Keep, oh keep, my need in view;
Grant me ab.oution, too.
Think, dear Lord, what thou endured,
By what pangs thou US secured.
Be our rest in bliss assured.
Thou who Mary cleansed from dross,
Saved the thief upon the crJss,
Save oh save, or am losii
Nothing good in me is found,
Low lie upon the ground,
Yet in me may grace abound.
When thy sheep from goats dividing
On thy right place assigning,
Let me be on thee relying.
When the wicked, curst and driven,
From thy face to flames are given
Be for me the bliss of Heaven.
Now in supplication bending,
Wait for the awful ending,
Still on thee, oh Christ, depending.
Oh that fearful Judgment day,
Heaven and earth shall pass away!
When beftre thy throne 1 stand,
Spare, oh God, what thou hast plannedl
Many attempts, mostly unsuccessful, have
been made at the translation of the famous
hymn. In Germany Schlegel,
Fichte and Bunsen have tried their hands at
it. In England Richard Crashaw and Macau-
lay, and not few others, have essayed ii.
OF the German translations Yorick cannot of
course express even an opinion; but 1t does
seem to him that the English rhymsters
might point TO their versions and echo
Brummel on his rumpled cravats: These are
our failures. Our ings are utterly inadequate
to convey the sonorous quality Of the Latin
verse:
Tuba miruHa spdrgeRs sonum
Per seputcrG regioRuHs
Coget onsnes ante htronum.
And who can reproduce in our muffled Eng
lish the grand roll of the vowels In this
stanza:
Mors stupebtt ct Rdturd,
Quinn resurgt creature
Jndicdnti Tesponsurd.
One can never think of the old hymn with
out wishing to repeat every word of it. 1t is
the flower of medieval Latin, indeed almost
the only thing in that artificial literature
worth preserving. Who of us that will not
unite in the trembling aspiration Of the "a
nous stanZa:
Rer tremende mdjestatis,
QIt sdlUdndos SGIUds gratis,
Saba me, ions pletattS.
-''H. w. r." writes these lines which are
the rhythmic expression of deep and per-
sonal grief:
THE LAST.
The silver cords loosed, the last link is broken
The parting farewell aud last words are spoken
While mourntuly sad wept by his bed
And silent and lonely gazed on the dead.
Long years have flown by, swift as the stream,
With earths brightest pleasures only dream,
Our dear cherished hopes OF boyhood's bright day,
Like autumn's sweet beauty, have vanished away.
Ahl well We recall each loved scene of the past
With their cleaning OF sunshine too bright to last,
O'er yonder fair plain where home mountains rise
In towering grandeur away to the skies
Bright dreams of my boyhood returning to me
Like the rainbow Of hope on lilies stormy sea.
Along through the woodlands, meadows and vale,
Through the STERN beaten forests torn by the gsle
By the ever-loved saeo, all sparkling and free
through its beautiful windings from mountain to sea
The dear old house yet remains on the hill
and the tail shady elms are standing there still.
We cherish each spot and love to recall
The glorious memories and looks OF them all.
Though weary and sad we linger alone
With naught but the ecooes Of time swiftly flown,
We wander once more up and down through the
past
each link Till we come to the last,
And lifting our heart. we offer one prayer
We may join it again to the ones gathered there.
Farewell-last but one of my own cherished band
Thou hast crossed the dark sea to far better land,
And are resting iore'er with spiris on high
In glory immortal where souls never die
Where the anthems of happiness ever are sung,
And the sweet harps of heaven are never uustrung.
Farewell last and only of all once so dear
We bid adieu mid our loneliness here
With Few mo days of lites troubled dream,
Hopes pilot will guide US safe over the stream
Fer hopes like bright flowers only are given
10 bud upon earth and blossom in heaven.
H.w.R.