merry companion too am I,
Though my coat be ragged, my throat a-dry.

Bread I have none, but tatters enough,
And Fortune gives me many a cuff;
When I reckon together the money I've got,
There's never a farthing in all the lot.

So naught in the wide world troubles me,
Save this alone--my poverty;
And a merry companion too am I,
Though my coat be ragged, my throat a-dry.

IX.

_A faluban muzikalnak._

Let the sergeant sing or drum--
Soldier I will ne'er become;
He whose heart a maiden charms,
Is a fool to carry arms.

Swords may dazzle with their beam,
But--the devil take the gleam!
By my true love's eyes so bright,
Sword gleams seem as dark as night.

X.

_Most elem gyoengyeletem._

I'm a hussar so free from care,
A cap of blood-red silk I wear;
And wreath with ribbons flut'ring free;
Which once my true love wove for me.

And for the garland which she wove
I gave a kiss to her my love.
Oh weave another!--for thy pain
I'll kiss a hundred times again!

XI.

_Falu mogoett van egy malom._

Behind our hamlet stands a mill
Where pain is ground, they say
And to that mill in haste will I
To grind my grief away!

Oh miller's maiden ask no more!
Disturb me not too soon,
Through all the morn I think with joy
Upon the afternoon!

A SONG FOR THIS DAY AND GENERATION.

WRITTEN FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE.

BY CHARLES G. EASTMAN.

Come, let us be merry!
The day's growing fair--
And drooping-eyed Patience
Looks up from despair.
Truth, like the glory
Of old times, in story,
Mellows the shadows that darken the land,
Wrongs, grim and hoary,
Crimes, black and gory,
Naked and scoffed in the market-place stand.

Come, let us be merry!
The sundown is near--
And Error is shivering
And shrinking with fear.
Power unmolested
For centuries, vested
In impotent sinew and imbecile brain,
Altars that rested
On mummeries ilested,
Tatters to ruin and not in the rain.

Come, let us be merry!
The sun shines at last--
The light fills the valleys--
The darkness has passed.
Names are neglected,