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Sends forth, resounding round,
Its hymeneal peal o'er rock and down the dell.

It is broad day, with sunshine and with rain ;

guests delay not long,
For soon arrives the bridal train,
And with it brings the village throng.

In sooth, deceit maketh no mortal gay,
For lo ! Baptiste on this triumphant day,
Mute as an idiot, sad as yester-morning,
Thinks only of the beldame's words of warning.

And Angela thinks of her cross, I wis ;
To be a bride is all! The pretty lisper
Feels her heart swell to hear all round her whisper,
“ How beautiful ! how beautiful she is !"

But she must calm that giddy head,
For already the Mass is said ;

At the holy table stands the priest ; The wedding ring is blessed ; Baptiste receives it ; Ere on the finger of the bride he leaves it,

He must pronounce one word at least ! ”T is spoken ; and sudden at the groomsman's side 66 'Tis he !" a well-known voice has cried. And while the wedding guests all hold their breath, Opes the confessional, and the blind girl, see ! Baptiste,” she said, “ since thou hast wished my

As holy water be my blood for thee !"
And calmly in the air a knife suspended !
Doubtless her guardian angel near attended,

For anguish did its work so well,
That, ere the fatal stroke descended,

Lifeless she fell !

At eve, instead of bridal verse,
The De Profundis filled the air ;

Decked with flowers a simple hearse
To the church-yard forth they bear ;
Village girls in robes of snow
Follow, weeping as they go ;

Nowhere was a smile that day,
No, ah no! for each one seemed to say :

" The roads should mourn and be veiled in gloom,
So fair a corpse shall leave its home !
Should mourn and should weep, ah, well-away !
So fair a corpse shall pass to-day!”



I HEAR along our street
Pass the minstrel throngs;

Hark! they play so sweet,
On their hautboys, Christmas songs !

Let us by the fire

Ever higher
Sing them till the night expire !

In December ring
Every day the chimes ;

Loud the gleemen sing
In the streets their merry rhymes.

Let us by the fire

Ever higher
Sing them till the night expire.

Shepherds at the grange,
Where the Babe was born,

Sang, with many a change,
Christmas carols until morn.

Let us by the fire

Ever higher
Sing them till the night expire !

These good people sang
Songs devout and sweet ;

While the rafters rang,
There they stood with freezing fee.

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