These youthful maidens fresh and fair,
So joyous, with such laughing air,
Baptiste stands sighing, with silent
tongue?

And yet the bride is fair and young!
Is it Saint Joseph would say to us all,
That love, o'er-hasty, precedeth a fall?
O, no! for a maiden frail, I trow,
Never bore so lofty a brow!
What lovers! they give not a single
caress!

To see them so careless and cold to-day, These are grand people, one would

say.

What ails Baptiste? what grief doth him oppress?

It is, that, half way up the hill,
In yon cottage, by whose walls
Stand the cart-house and the stalls,
Dwelleth the blind orphan still,
Daughter of a veteran old;

And you must know, one year ago,
That Margaret, the young and
tender,

Was thevillage pride and splendour,
And Baptiste her lover bold.

Love, the deceiver, them ensnared;
For them the altar was prepared;
But alas! the summer's blight,
The dread disease that none can
stay,

The pestilence that walks by night,
Took the young bride's sight away.

All at the father's stern command was changed

Their peace was gone, but not their love estranged.

Wearied at home, ere long the lover fled;

Returned but three short days ago, The golden chain they round him throw,

He is enticed, and onward led
To marry Angela, and yet
Is thinking ever of Margaret.

Then suddenly a maiden cried, "Anna, Theresa, Mary, Kate! Here comes the cripple Jane!" And by a fountain

A woman, bent and gray with
years,
Under the mulberry-trees appears,
And all towards her run, as fleet
As had they wings upon their feet.

say:

"Thoughtless Angela, beware! Lest, when thour weddest this false bridegroom,

Thou diggest for thyself a tomb!" And she was silent; and the maidens fair

Saw from each eye escape a swollen tear;

But on a little streamlet silver-clear,
What are two drops of turbid rain?
Saddened a moment the bridal train
Resumed the dance and song again;
The bridegroom only was pale with
fear;

And down green alleys
Of verdurous valleys,
With merry sallies,
They sang the refrain:-

"The roads should blossom, the roads should bloom,

So fair a bride shall leave her home! Should blossom and bloom with garlands gay,

So fair a bride shall pass to-day!”

II.

And by suffering worn and weary, But beautiful as some fair angel yet,

He will return! I need not fear!
He swore it by our Saviour dear;
He could not come at his own will;
Is weary, or perhaps is ill!

Perhaps his heart, in this disguise, Prepares for me some sweet surprise! But some one comes! Though blind, my heart can see!

And that deceives me not! 'tis he! 'tis he!"

And the door ajar is set,

And poor, confiding Margaret Rises, with outstretched arms, but sightless eyes;

'Tis only Paul, her brother, who thus cries:

"Angela! the bride has passed! I saw the wedding guests go by; Tell me, my sister, why were we not asked?

For all are there but you and I!"

Angela married! and not send
To tell her secret unto me!

O, speak! who may the bridegroom
be?"

"My sister, 'tis Baptiste, thy friend!" A cry the blind girl gave, but nothing said;

A milky whiteness spreads upon her cheeks:

An icy hand, as heavy as lead,
Descending, as her brother speaks,
Upon her heart, that has ceased to
beat,

Suspends awhile its life and heat. She stands beside the boy, now sore distressed,

A wax Madonna as a peasant dressed. At length the bridal song again Brings her back to her sorrow and pain.

"Hark! the joyous airs are ringing! Sister, dost thou hear them singing? How merrily they laugh and jest! Would we were bidden with the rest! I would don my hose of homespun gray, And my doublet of linen striped and gay; Perhaps they will come; for they do not wed

Till to-morrow at seven o'clock, it is said!"

"I know it!" answered Margaret ;

Whom the vision, with aspect black as jet,

Mastered again; and its hand of ice
Held her heart crushed, as in a vice!
"Paul, be not sad! 'Tis a holiday;
To-morrow put on thy doublet gay
!
But leave me now for a while alone."
Away, with a hop and a jump, went
Paul,

And, as he whistled along the hall,
Entered Jane, the crippled crone.
"Holy Virgin! what dreadful heat!
I am faint andweary, and out of breath!
But thou art cold,-art chill as death;
My little friend! what ails thee,
sweet?"

"Nothing! I heard them singing home the bride;

And, as I listened to the song,

I thought my turn would come ere long,

Thou knowest it is at Whitsuntide. Thy cards forsooth can never lie, To me such joy they prophesy, Thy skill shall be vaunted far and wide When they behold him at my side. And poor Baptiste, what sayest thou? It must seem long to him;-methinks I see him now!"

Jane, shuddering, her hand doth

Go, pray to God, that thou mayst love him less!"

"The more I pray, the more I love! It is no sin, for God is on my side!" It was enough; and Jane no more replied.

Now to all hope her heart is barred and cold;

But to deceive the beldame old

She takes a sweet, contented air; Speaks of foul weather or of fair, At every word the maiden smiles! Thus the beguiler she beguiles; So that, departing at the evening's close, She says, "She may be saved! she nothing knows!"

Poor Jane, the cunning sorceress ! Now that thou wouldst, thou art no prophetess!

Round her at times exhale,
And in the sky as yet no sunny ray,
But brumal vapours gray.

Near that castle, fair to see,

Crowded with sculptures old, in every

part,

Marvels of nature and of art,