POETRY.
THE SWAN.
[FROM THE SWEDISH OF RIINEBERG.]
FROM cloud with purple-sprinkled rim A swan, in calm delight,
Sank down upon the river's brim, And sang in June, one night.
Of Northlands' beauty was his song : How glad their skies, their air; How day forgets the whole night long, To go to rest out there ; How shadows there both rich and deep 'Neath birch and alder fall ; What gold-beams o'er each inlet sweep, How cool the billows all ; How fair it is, how passing fair, To own there one true friend ! How faithfulness is home-bred there, And thither yearns to wend.
When thus from wave to wave his note, His simple praise-song rang, Swift fawned he on his fond mate's throat, And thus, methought, he sang :— What more? though of thy life's short dream No tales the ages bring, Yet haat thou loved on Northlands' stream, And sung songs there in spring !
E. H. PALMER. EIMER MAGlitSSON.
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