From the German of
FRIEDRICH MARTIN VON BODENSTEDT.

I HOLD STILL.

Pain’s furnace heat within me quivers,
  God’s breath upon the flame doth blow,
And all my heart in anguish shivers,
  And trembles at the fiery glow: 
And yet I whisper, As God will! 
And in his hottest fire hold still.

He comes and lays my heart, all heated,
  On the hard anvil, minded so
Into his own fair shape to beat it
  With his great hammer, blow on blow: 
And yet I whisper, As God will! 
And at his heaviest blows hold still.

He takes my softened heart and beats it,—­
  The sparks fly off at every blow;
He turns it o’er and o’er, and heats it,
  And lets it cool, and makes it glow: 
And yet I whisper, As God will! 
And, in his mighty hand, hold still.

Why should I murmur? for the sorrow
  Thus only longer-lived would be;
Its end may come, and will, to-morrow,
  When God has done his work in me;
So I say, trusting, As God will! 
And, trusting to the end, hold still.

He kindles for my profit purely
  Affliction’s glowing fiery brand,
And all his heaviest blows are surely
  Inflicted by a Master-hand: 
So I say, praying, As God will! 
And hope in him, and suffer still.

From the German of JULIUS STURM.

THE GOOD GREAT MAN.

How seldom, Friend! a good great man inherits
  Honor or wealth with all his worth and pains! 
It sounds like stories from the land of spirits. 
If any man obtain that which he merits,
  Or any merit that which he obtains.

* * * * *

For shame, dear Friend; renounce this canting strain! 
What wouldst thou have a good great man obtain? 
Place—­titles—­salary—­a gilded chain—­
Or throne of corses which his sword has slain? 
Greatness and goodness are not means, but ends!

Hath he not always treasures, always friends,
The good great man? three treasures,—­love, and light,
And calm thoughts, regular as infant’s breath;
And three firm friends, more sure than day and night—­
Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death.

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.

WHEN MY SHIP COMES IN.

Somewhere, out on the blue seas sailing,
  Where the winds dance and spin;
Beyond the reach of my eager hailing,
  Over the breakers’ din;
Out where the dark storm-clouds are lifting,
Out where the blinding fog is drifting,
Out where the treacherous sand is shifting,
  My ship is coming in.

Oh, I have watched till my eyes were aching,
  Day after weary day;
Oh, I have hoped till my heart was breaking,
  While the long nights ebbed away;
Could I but know where the waves had tossed her,
Could I but know what storms had crossed her,
Could I but know where the winds had lost her,
  Out in the twilight gray!