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THE DOUBLE PAIN.
FROM THE SPANISH.
“ Con dos cuidados guerreo
Que me dan pena, y sospiro,
My heart doth own a double fear,
A double pain, a double sigh-
The other when you're by.
At seeing you, my heart doth mourn
With love that cannot find relief;
With all the bitter pangs of grief.
And now I shed the burning tear ;
And now I heave the useless sigh:
The other, when you're by!
THE CHRISTMAS OF THE FOREIGN CHILD.
FROM THE GERMAN OF FREDERICI RUECKERT.
Amid a spacious town
The Christmas lights are blazing.
A foreign child is gazing
In every house he sees
Fond fingers intertwining,
The bright warm rooms are shining,
He weeping speaks: “To-night,
To every child is given
But I by earth and heaven
“ A sister's gentle hand
Had given me all I needed,
But here I am unheeded,
" Will none the orphan see,
And let him in for pity ?
That in this crowded city
“ Will no kind hand relieve
The orphan's deep dejection ?
But only the reflection
He taps with fingers thin
On window and on shutter, They hear not for the din,
The weak words he doth utier, Nor let the orphan in.
The father's lessons mild
The listening boy's ear drinkethThe Christmas gifts are piled
By mother's hands." None thinketh Of that poor orphan child.
- Oh! Christ, my Saviour dear,
No father and no mother Have I my heart to cheer,
Be all to me, no other Consoler have I here."
Cold, cold his small hand grows,
He rubs his frozen fingers He shivers in his clothes,
And in the white street lingers With eyes that will not close.
There cometh with a light,
Which through the dark street breaketh, In robes of simple white,
Another child—who speaketh These sweet words of delight :
“ Behold thy Christ in me,
Again a child's form takingA little child like thee
Though all are thee forsaking, By me thou shalt not be:
« My word's impartial boon
I waft o'er hill and valley, I send my aid as soon
To this poor wretched alley, As to yon gay saloon:
“ My hands, with light divine
Thy Christmas tree shall kindle. Thou'lt see, compared with thine,
All other trees shall dwindle, How beautiful they shine.”
To Heaven his little hand
The infant Saviour raiseth-
Whose star-lit branch outblazeth
“ God of Claros, God of the Silver BowSminthean Apollo, if thou dost not show Light to these wandering feet and sightless eyes, Here must I perish beyond doubt!" With sighs 'Twas thus the old man ceased his piteous plaint, And near a wood he walked, feeble and faint, And there upon a mossy stone sat down ;Three shepherds, children of that soil, with brown Cheeks, shaded o'er with clustering golden locks, Followed him : by the bleating of their flocks And their loud-barking mastiffs, thither led. Him they protected, as he feebly fled From their rude dogs' inhospitable rage, Restraining them : and as they reached the sage, And heard his voice, and saw his sightless eyes, -“ Sure this must be some dweller of the skies !” They cried aloud. " His face is full of pride, And, from the rustic girdle round him tied, Hangs a rude lyre- and his deep voice doth seem To move the air and the woods--the heavens and the ocean stream."
He hears their steps_is troubled-in despair
-“ Children-for child-like, tender, soft, and sweet,