HUNTING SONG. FROM THE DIALECT OF THE NAUDOWESSES, ONE OF THE INDIAN TRIBES IN NORTH AMERICA. ERE the rising sunbeams break, I the lofty mountain seek; Watch the new light's earliest ray, A LOVE SONG. T. SWIFT. FROM THE ROMAIC, OR MODERN GREEK. АH! Love was never yet without The pang, the agony, the doubt, Which rend my heart with ceaseless sigh, Without one friend to hear my woe, Birds, yet in freedom, shun the net Your hearts shall burn, your hopes expire. A bird of free and careless wing Who ne'er have loved and loved in vain In flattering dreams I deem'd thee mine; My light of life! ah, tell me why Mine eyes like wintry streams o'erflow: My curdling blood, my maddening brain, And still thy heart, without partaking Pour me the poison, fear not thou! My wounded soul, my bleeding breast, LORD BYRON. THE RENOVATION OF THE WORLD*. FROM THE OLD ICELANDIC. Now the spirit's plastic might, Brooding o'er the formless deep, O'er the dusk abysm of night, Bids creation cease to sleep! Instant from the riven main Gods on Inda spread the board; 'High the sparkling beverage pour; Lifts the soul to solemn thought. • Odin first inspires the verse, Pour the sparkling beverage high. *The gods (or dæmones) meet on the top of mount Inda, and sing this prophetic song of triumph. 'Lo! they fleet in radiant round, Years of plenty, years of joy: Sorrow's place no more is found, Cares that vex, or sweets that cloy. 'From the kindling teeming soil Ripen'd harvests wave unsown; Wherefore needs the peasants' toil? Nature works and works alone. 'Ask ye, whose the sceptred sway? 'Tis to lordly Balder given : Mark him there, in bright array, Stalking through the halls of heaven. 'Hoder holds united reign; Latest times their strength shall prove, Rolls mine eye in frenzied trance? 'High in tracts of troubled air, Justice waves her awful sword: Vice appall'd, with hideous stare, Shrinks, ere spoke the dooming word. In Nastronda's northern plain, Hark, the' invenom'd portals ope: Respite there is none of pain, Cheerless all, without a hope. 'Dog-eyed Lust, Adultery foul, Bound in adamantine chain. 'Know ye what is done above? Know ye now the deeds of night?' MATHIAS. SONG OF HARALD THE HARDY. FROM THE OLD ICELANDIC. My bark around Sicilia sail'd; Then we were gallant, proud, and strong: Fierce was the fight on Trondheim's heath, Though few, upon that field of death Long, long our desperate warriors strovę: With golden ring in Russia's land With vigorous arms the pump we plied, |