THE VINE.
FROM THE GERMAN OF HERDER.
(For the Mirror.)
On the day of their creation, the trees boasted one to another, of their excellence. "Me, the Lord planted!" said the lofty cedar;—"strength, fragrance, and longevity, he bestowed on me."
"Jehovah fashioned me to be a blessing," said the shadowy palm; "utility and beauty he united in my form." The apple-tree, said, "Like a bridegroom among youths, I glow in my beauty amidst the trees of the grove!" The myrtle, said, "Like the rose among briars, so am I amidst the other shrubs." Thus all boasted;—the olive and the fig-tree—and even the fir.
The vine, alone, drooped silent to the ground! "To me," thought he, "every thing seems to have been refused;—I have neither stem—nor branches—nor flowers,—but such as I am, I will hope and wait." The vine bent down its shoots, and wept!
Not long had the vine to wait; for, behold, the divinity of earth, man, drew nigh; he saw the feeble, helpless, plant trailing its honours along the soil:—in pity, he lifted up the recumbent shoots, and twined the feeble plant around his own bower.
Now the winds played with its leaves and tendrils; and the warmth of the sun began to empurple its hard green grapes, and to prepare within them a sweet and delicious juice.
Decked with its rich clusters, the vine leaned towards its master, who tasted its refreshing fruit and juicy beverage; and he named the vine, his friend and favourite.
Despair not, ye forsaken; bear—be patient,—and strive.
From the insignificant reed flows the sweetest of juices;—from the bending vine springs the most delightful drink of the earth.