e.

"I might answer, because of my interest in the scene it depicts--a scene
in which religion seems to shed its sanctifying influence over the
tenderest affection and the homeliest duties of our common life; but I
had another reason."

"Ah! I knew it," exclaimed Annie.

"I first saw this print in company with a very cultivated and
interesting German lady, to whose memory the sleeping baby recalled a
cradle song written by her countryman, the brave Koerner. She sang it for
me, and as the German is, I am grieved to say, a sealed book to me, she
gave me a literal translation of the words, which--"

"Which you have put into English verse, and written here at the back of
the engraving in the finest of all fine writing, and which papa will put
on his spectacles and read for us."

"No; I commission Mr. Arlington to do that," said the Colonel, "without
his spectacles."

"First," said I, "let me assure you that the original is full of a
simple, natural tenderness, which I fear, in the double process of
translating and versifying, has entirely escaped."

Mr. Arlington, taking the paper from Annie, now read,--

THE CRADLE SONG;

A FREE TRANSLATION FROM KOeRNER.

I.

Slumberer! to thy mother's breast,
So fondly folded, sweetly rest!
Within that fair and quiet world,
With downy pinions scarce unfurl'd,
Life gently passes, nor doth bring
One dream of sorrow on its wing.

II.

Pleasant our dreams in early hours,
When Mother-love our life embowers;--
Ah! Mother-love! thy tender light
Hath vanished from my sky of night,
Scarce leaving there one fading ray
To thrill me with, remember'd day.

III.

Thrice, by the smiles of fav'ring Heaven,
To man this holiest joy is given;
Thrice, circled by the arms of love,
With glowing spirit he may prove
The highest rapture heart can feel,
The noblest hopes our lives reveal.

IV.

The earliest blessings that enwreathed
His infant days, 'twas Love that breathed.
In Love's warm smile the nursling blooms,
Nor fears one shade that o'er him glooms,
While flowers unfold and waters dance
In joy, beneath his first, fresh glance.

V.

And when around the youth's bold course
Clouds gather--tempests spend their force--
When his soul darkens with his sky,
Again the Love-God hovers nigh;
And on some gentle maiden's breast
Lulls