Attempt > Volume 3

212 THE ATTEMPT.
feel at home in a strange land. Very, very happy are some of my recollections of
the time I spent there, and though I may never again visit those beautiful scenes, the
memory of them ■will never pass from my mind. To see Norway once, is to long to
revisit its shores; and to be received on an intimate footing among its people, is to
carry away a never-fading impression of the charms of a truly sociable society. As,
however, I believe I am slightly prejudiced in this matter, and hardly capable of
fomiing an unbiassed judgment, I shall put a constraint on my inclination to ramble
off into panegyrics, and close with a sincere wish that all my readers may some day
see and experience for themselves the pleasures of which I speak. Alma.
f ims ia one latelu b^ab-
FROM THE GERMAN OF THEODOF STORM.
Tnou thought'st not then of glad days yet to be,
Unmeet for conflict—with past anguish weary ;
Too great the might of mother's joy for thee,
And all too hard Life's thorny path and dreary.
Night found him at thy side with loving care.
Again night comes, o'er all its mantle flinging,
It also passed—then dawned the morning fair:
" Ah ! dearest, how this heart to life is clinging."
Silent he listens, while these accents mild
Break ou his ear in solemn faltering number.
" I die, beloved one, protect my child,"
Then in a scarce heard whisper " Let me slumber."
No more—no waking from that long, last sleep.
Dark grew the world whereon thine eyes were closing,
God's Spirit wafted through the silence deep.
Thine infant wailed—thou wei-t in heaven reposing.
Echo.