15195 Into my bosom's deepness, Oh, could thine eye but see, Where all the songs are sleeping That God e'er gave to me! There would thine eye perceive it, If aught of good be mine,— Although I may not name thee,That aught of good is thine. From the Foreign Quarterly Review. A THE SUNKEN CROWN OFT on yonder hillside A little cot doth stand; Far out upon the land. There sits a free-born peasant Upon the bank at even, Below on the lake are falling Translation of H. W. Dulcken. A A MOTHER'S GRAVE GRAVE, O mother, has been dug for thee Within a still-to thee a well-known-place. A shadow all its own above shall be, And flowers its threshold too shall ever grace. And even as thou died'st, so in thy urn Thou'lt lie unconscious of both joy and smart: Translation of Frederick W. Ricord. There was iron and steel in right good store; "O smithying-carle, good master of mine, "Teach me the lore of shield and blade, He struck with the hammer a mighty blow, He struck through the wood the echoes rang, And out of the last left iron bar He fashioned a sword that shone as a star. "Now have I smithied a right good sword, "And giants and dragons of wood and field, I shall meet like a hero, under shield.» Translation of Elizabeth Craigmyle. I ICHABOD: THE GLORY HAS DEPARTED RIDE through a dark, dark Land by night, Yet oft have I trodden this way ere now, I roam by a gloomy Garden-wall; But the gold of the sunshine is shed and gone, And my love in her low grave molders; And the Mantle of Age on my shoulders. Translation of James C. Mangan. ARMANDO PALACIO VALDÉS (1853-) EFORE heaven! your Worship should read what I have read,» exclaims an honest inn-keeper in 'Don Quixote,' concerning Felixmarte of Hyrcania, who, "with one back-stroke, cut asunder five giants through the middle. At another time he encountered a great and powerful army of about a million six hundred thousand soldiers, all armed from top to toe, and routed them as if they had been a flock of sheep." This was said in response to a protest against his wasting his time over the foolish books of chivalry of the epoch, and a recommendation that he should read, instead, the real exploits of Gonsalvo de Cordova, the Great Captain, who had in fact put to flight a dozen men or so with his own hand. The paragraph is a useful one, as throwing light on the insatiate nature of the thirst for mere adventure and movement in fiction. It has no limits; but was just as impatient of the splendid feats of arms, battles, sieges, and romantic doings-as we should consider them- of all kinds, that were then of daily occurrence, as the same school is at present of the happenings of real life all about us. The change is one of relation rather than spirit; and the school of criticism that demands only the startling and exceptional, and eschews all else as tame, is still, numerically at least, superior to any other. How much nobler an aim is that of Palacio Valdés and his kind, who show us feeling, beauty, and innate interest everywhere throughout common existence; and who lighten and dignify the otherwise commonplace days as they pass, by leading us to look for these things. Nothing is truer than that the purpose of the arts is to please; but a Spanish proverb also well says: «Show me what pleases you and I will tell you what you are.» Armando Palacio Valdés was born October 4th, 1853. His birthplace was Entralgo, a small village near Oviedo, the capital of the province of Asturias, in the northwest of Spain. He received his earlier education at the small marine town of Avilés, and at Oviedo; and then took his degree in law at the University of Madrid. His first literary work was in criticism. In 1881 he began the publication of novels with El Señorito Octavio, a rather flimsy story of Spanish provincial life, then in 1883 he gave to the world one of its really great novels, (Marta y María) (Martha and Mary). |