That not a rose without sharp thorns doth grow,
Much as love's yearning stirs our human nature,
Through pangs of parting we at last must go.
From thy dear eyes, when I my fate was trying,
A gleam of love and joy streamed forth to me:
Preserve thee God! my joy seemed then undying,
Preserve thee God! such joy was not to be.

I've suffered much from envy, hatred, sorrow,
A weather-beaten wanderer sad and worn;
I dreamt of peace and of a happy morrow,
When I to thee by angel-guides was borne.
To thy dear arms for comfort I was flying,
In grateful thanks I vowed my life to thee:
Preserve thee God! my joy seemed then undying,
Preserve thee God! such joy was not to be.

The clouds fly fast, the wind the leaves is sweeping,
A heavy shower falls o'er woods and meads:
The weather with my parting is in keeping,
Gray as the sky my path before me leads.
Whatever may come, joy's smile or bitter sighing,
Thou lovely maid! I'll think of naught but thee!
Preserve thee God! my joy seemed once undying,
Preserve thee God! such joy was not for me.

SONGS OF THE CAT HIDDIGEIGEI.

I.

Honest folks are turning lately
Their attention to the Muses,
And with ease compose their own songs
For their daily household uses.

Therefore I shall also try it,
On light pinions freely winging;
For, who dares deny our talent,
Takes from cats the right of singing?

If I always run to book-stores
I shall find it too expensive;
And their gaudy books contain oft
Naught but trash, weak and offensive.

II.

When through vales and on the mountains
Roars the storm at midnight drear,
Clambering over ridge and chimney
Hiddigeigei doth appear.

Like a spirit he stands up there,
Never looked he half so fair;
Fire from his eyes is streaming,
Fire from his bristling hair.

And he howls in fierce wild measure,
An old war-cry caterwauling,
Which is borne off by the storm-wind,
Like the distant thunder rolling.

Not a soul then ever sees him,
Each is sleeping in his house;
But far down, deep in the cellar,
Listens the poor tr