Badenweiler.

THE GRAVE AT BADENWEILER.

HERE would impatient feet be turned to-day

WHERE

If in the longed-for land beyond the sea?

To storied marbles, or to ruins gray,

Whose fame, since childhood, has been haunting me? Nay, to a mound that waiteth for a stone

Would I be guided, there to weep alone

Over the relic that a spirit flown

Hath left at Badenweiler.

He can no longer take the birthday gift,

But were I near my offering he should wear : I'd drop him flowers until the odor-drift

Should seem to melt through earth and reach him there.
Though faint the strongest comfort I could get,
Would that these yearning eyes his grave had met;
"T would be my emerald, in sorrow set,
That grave at Badenweiler.

This the first birthday he has felt no kiss!
To-day, still heart, how sadly do I keep!
Thy life from mine so sorely do I miss,

Into thy rest sometimes I long to creep.
O, make me sure as though thy lips had told
That we draw closer for death's bitter cold,
That it hath drawn us nearer than of old,

That grave at Badenweiler.

Anonymous.

THE

AT BADENWEILER.

HERE is a grave o'erlooked by summer skies, Where lieth one whose noble dreams are o'er; On whose pale stone the paler moonlight lies,

As if, from bleeding kindred hearts, it bore

The tender messages that would. be heard no more.

Where the imperial river sweeps along

Through the green valley, with its vineyards spread, The soft waves, singing nature's cradle-song,

Seem as if singing to the hills o'erhead

Their own pathetic requiem for the exiled dead.

When the low setting sun gives back to day
The rapturous flush of its triumphant flight,
Kissing the tops of mountains far away,

Then, as if dropping from the golden height
On this lone grave, falls the last lingering ray of light.

Or when the stars in solemn grandeur rise

With their pale splendor flashing through the deep, Like friendly lamps relit in foreign skies,

Lo! as if smiling o'er his dreamless sleep,

All silently they come, their nightly watch to keep.

O blissful sleeper! though your grassy mound
By tears of kindred never may be wet,
Yet in the eyes of nature may be found

A sweet consoling for their love's regret,
And the eternal love that never doth forget.

Yea! life's great river with its waters clear

Through heavenly vineyards shall hereafter sweep, - And unto us what seems the saddest here

God shall interpret when we fall asleep,

No "wherefores" to perplex, and nevermore to weep.

Anonymous.

Berchtesgaden.

THE EDELWEISS GATHERER.

AY, autumn love I best, for then

I gather Edelweiss ;

High up along the Watzmann's sides,
And up above the ice.

In Berchtesgaden, too, by all
The flower is held so dear;
And if I bring my Edelweiss
To some great cavalier,

Or to the ladies of the court,
Each one the flower will wear;
For Edelweiss becomes them well,
And they are all so fair.

The gentlemen will sometimes ask
Where grew my snow-white store;
But when I to the Watzmann point,
They don't ask any more.

And that's just why I love the flower;
"Tis not won in a trice;

It courage needs, and hence 't is called,
Not wrongly, Edelweiss.

And as, mid dangers climbing on,
I trust my God is near,
Gladly I pluck a posy, too,

For our sweet Ladye dear.

O, if the Watzmann do but send
No avalanche below,

Where stands my little garden, where
The hunter's flower doth grow!

O Ladye dear! should snows perchance
Roll down with wild alarm,
Remember me, and prithee guard

My Edelweiss from harm!

Franz von Kobell. Tr. Charles Boner.

Berlin.

THE JUVENIS ADORANS.

THIS antique statue, a youth praying, dug up from the Tiber in the pontificate of Clement XI., was presented by that Pope to Prince Eugene of Savoy. From him it passed into the possession of Prince Lichtenstein. Frederic II. of Prussia bought it for ten thousand thalers, and placed it in his palace at Potsdam. It is now one of the finest ornaments of the sculpture-gallery at Berlin.

TIBER'S yellow flood

Darkest tales can tell,

His gaze is on the sky,

As if his trust were there;

His arms stretched wide and high, As if his thanks were prayer.

His youth breathes strong of hope, And life's full, generous fires,