Ah! of all thy doves
None can comfort me;
Only he, the father
Of my little ones."
P.
The following little elegy we translate from a Russian Annual; the editor of which, Baron Delvig, took it down from the lips of a peasant girl.
THE FAITHLESS LOVER.
Nightingale, O nightingale,
Nightingale so full of song,
Tell me, tell me, where thou fliest,