The Goldsmith's Daughter [pp. 210-211]

The Goldsmith's Daughter.
Now they hear and they see, not as we of this world,
But whole cities and states from their chosen arcade
They distinctly can hear, and see, plainly unfurled,
By the change in their senses which heaven has made."
(Anon.
Agriculture has not contributed as much to
our scenery as it might have done, and as it will
do hereafter. In many places time and taste and
spring and summer do much. But there are few
places where, if you stand and look round with
calm eye, and watch the richer sunsets, and await
the fairer seasons, and learn to know their fa vored times, you may not catch glimpses of the
grand spirit of nature, and feel the strange sym pathies of your kindred with sky and air and
tree and flower. True, the sympathies of that
kindred have yet been but little uttered in appro priate expression. Our pines have not yet had
their Theocritus. That voice of the wind among
them, concerning which there is an insoluble
doubt whether it is a sigh or a shout, a hallelujah or a dirge, is just the same as the " a' ri d p,0eOptapa," the song of the pines, of which the
Syracusan poet sung in the dominions of Ptole my Philadelphus. They lack the charm of the
thought that a poet has been among them; they
lack the charm of the pagan dream that huntress
Diana has made them ring with the chorus of
her phantom dogs, and the wild woodland revelry of her buskined train of nymphs; and the
charm of the thought that Minerva too has mused among them who "non minus in sylvis errare quam Diana." Yet they also have their
charms. They are the produce of a renovating
power in nature as dark to our knowledge as the
growing of the vampire skins of the dead. Their
colour is that of summer and hope and joyous
life. They seem too to disport themselves in
types and emblems. Theirs are colors. over
which winter, the annual shade and ghost of
death, has no mastery. They stand there forever
showing and singing forth the tidings of an immortality which the grave touches not but to
brighten. Their line of blue lies along the horizon like man's redemption in the horizon of
history, a sign and an actual source of bright
hopes yet abiding in the land. Above them are
often spread the glory-wings of a sunset probably quite as fine as the Athenians ever saw over
"sea-born Salamis." In such an hour they
deeply mingle in the dreams which the soul has
brought with it from the unknown realms. In
those mystic recognitions there is always a sense
of the present as well as of the past. It is this
which is now before us that is made to seem an
apparition of the past. It is a strange thing of
two widely different eras. The hues of the time
now, and of the time long ago, are both upon it.
It is a pageant whose costume varies like an al
ternating star between the robes of the fashion
which we see now and those of which we know
not where to find legend or chronicle, or brazen
clasp old enough to tell us.
*
THE GOLDSMITH'S DAUGHTER.
FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND.
A Goldsmith stood where shone around
His pearls and diamonds dear:
"The brightest gem I ever found
Art thou, my pet, my Helena,
My little daughter dear!
A dainty knight just then came in:
"Good day, my pretty maid:
Good day, my brave old Goldsmith, too,
I need a rich set garland
My sweet bride's locks to braid."
Now -when the finished garland shone,
And sparkled all so bright,
And Helen could be quite alone,
Upon her arm she hung it.
And saddened at the sight.
"Ah, happy, sure, the bride will be
Who wears this pretty toy:
Ah! if the dear knight would give me
A simple wreath of roses,
0, I should die for joy."
Ere long the knight came in again,
And close the garland eyed:
"My good old Goldsmith, make me, then,
A little ring of diamonds
For my sweet little bride."
And when the finished circlet shone
With precious diamonds bright,
And Helen could be quite alone,
She drew it on her finger
And saddened at the sight.
"Ah! happy, sure, the bride will be
Who wears the pretty toy,
Ah! if the dear knight would give me
A little lock of hair, only,
0, I should die for joy."
Ere long the knight came in again,
And close the ringlet eyed:
"I see, my good old Goldsmith, then,
Thou mak'st quite beautifully
The gifts for my sweet bride.
But that their fitness I may see,
Come, pretty maiden, now,
And let me try at once on thee
The jewels of my dearest,
For she is fair as thou."
21o
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