Ah, the breathless hush that followed! for amid the icy waste
They a human shape discerned, madly, as by demons chased,
Up the crystal ledges climbing, pausing now where ice-walls screen
From the blast, then upward springing o'er abyss and dread ravine,
Until silence,
Glittering silence,
Reigned amid the icebergs' sheen.
They have searched for him, they told me, sought him far and sought him near:
Ne'er a trace was found to tell them of his grave so lone and drear;
But the legend goes that angels swift the shining ether clove,
And with them his youth's beloved bore him up to God above,
Where shall silence,
Deepest silence,
Never sunder hearts that love.
HJALMAR HJARTH BOYESEN.
[Footnote 1: The Hulder is the spirit of the forest, and is
represented as a virgin of wonderful beauty. She plays her loor, a
long birch-bark horn, at evening, and is the protecting genius of the
cattle.]
THACKERAY'S "GRAY FRIARS."
There is an eloquent passage in one of Victor Hugo's novels in which
the writer affectionately apostrophizes the Paris of his youth--those
quaint old streets of the _Quartier Latin_ so redolent of the happy
associations which cling to the springtide of life.
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