r feeling.
Rest may night itself deny thee, and may day to thee be terror!
Be thy face before thy husband as a thing of nameless loathing!
May his eye avoid thee ever, flee the splendor of thy beauty!
May he ne'er, in gladsome gathering, stretch his hand to thee for
partner!
Never gird himself with girdle which for him thy hand embroidered!
Let his heart, thy love forsaking, in another love be fettered;
The love-tokens of another may his scutcheon flame in battle,
While behind thy grated windows year by year, away thou
mournest!
To thy rival may he offer prisoners that his hand has taken!
May the trophies of his victory on his knees to _her_ be proffered!
May he hate thee! and thy heart's faith to him be but thing
accursed!
These things, aye and more still! be thy cure for all my sting
and sorrow!"
Silent now goes Abensaid, unto Xeres, in the midnight;
Dazzling shone the palace, lighted, festal for the loathsome marriage,
Richly-robed Moors were standing 'neath the shimmer of the
tapers,
On the jubilant procession of the marriage-part proceeded.
In the path stands Abensaid, frowning, as the bridegroom nears
him;
Strikes the lance into his bosom, with the rage of sharpest
vengeance.
'Gainst the heaven rings a loud cry, those at hand their swords
are baring--
But he rushes through the weapons, and in safety gains his own
hearth.

Translation through the German, in the metre of the original, by E.
Irenaeus Stevenson.

THE VILLAGE SCHOOLMASTER[17]

From "Country Life"

There he sits; his figure and his rigid bearing
Let us know most clearly what is his ideal:--
Confidence in self, in his lofty standing;
Thereto add conceit in his own great value.
Certain, he can read--yes, and write and cipher;
In the almanac no star-group's a stranger.
In the church he, faithful, leads the pious chorus;
Drums the catechism into young ones' noddles.
Disputation to him's half the joy of living;
Even though he's beaten, he will not give over.
Watch him, when he talks, in how learned fashion!
Drags on every word, spares no play of muscle.
Ah, what pains he takes to forget no syllable--
Consonants and vowels rightly wei