To the tranquil depth below,
Then we muster all a-row,
Where, secure from toil and trouble,
With a tuneful bubble-bubble,
Our symphonious accents flow.
Brikake-kesh, koàsh, koàsh.
* * * * *
Translation of J. H. Frere.
THE RIVULETS.
Go up and mark the new-born rill,