The clouds shall pass away from thy great glory; Yea, thou shalt be to all a presence solemn, But thou, the while the sacred pomp shall lead The while they hear (hard by the wondrous dome The while thy name without a peer shall soar, Shalt in the darkness feel for evermore The grave-worm on thy brow. BOAZ ASLEEP. TRANSLATED FROM VICTOR HUGO. AT work within his barn since very early, Barley and wheat-fields he possess'd, and well, Though rich, loved justice; wherefore all the flood That turn'd his mill-wheels was unstain'd with mud, And in his smithy blazed no fire of hell. His beard was silver, as in April all A stream may be. He did not grudge a stook : When the poor gleaner pass'd, with kindly look, Quoth he, "Of purpose let some handfuls fall." He walk'd his way of life straight on, and plain, Good master, faithful friend, in his estate Frugal, yet generous beyond the youth, Life's primal source, unchangeable and bright, For in the young man's eye a flame may burn, As Jacob slept, or Judith, so full deep Slept Boaz 'neath the leaves. Now it betided, Heaven's gate being partly open, that there glided A fair dream forth, and hover'd o'er his sleep. And in his dream, to heav'n, the blue and broad, Whereupon Boaz murmured in his heart, "The number of my years is past fourscore How may this be? I have not any more, Or son, or wife; yea, she who had her part "In this my couch, O Lord! is now in thine. "Youth hath triumphal mornings; its days bound "I bow my soul to death, as kine to meet The water bow their fronts athirst," he said. The cedar feeleth not the rose's head, Nor he the woman's presence at his feet. For while he slept, the Moabitess Ruth He knowing not what sweet guile she was making; She knowing not what God would have in sooth. Asphodel scents did Gilgal's breezes bring- Silent was all in Jezreel and Ur ; The stars were glittering in the heav'ns dusk meadows, Far west, among those flow'rs of the shadows, The thin clear crescent, lustrous over her, Made Ruth raise question, looking through the bars Of heaven with eyes half-oped, what god, what comer Unto the harvest of the eternal summer, Had flung his golden hook down on the field of stars. THE ROSE OF THE INFANTA. TRANSLATED FROM VICTOR HUGO. SHE is so little-in her hand a rose; A stern duenna watches where she goes. Fair as an angel frozen into snow, The royal child looks on, and hardly seems to know. As in a depth of glory far away, Down the green park, a lofty palace lay. There drank the deer from many a crystal pond, Rubies and diamonds strew'd the path she trode, |