(TRANSLATION, FROM VICTOR HUGO.)
The tomb asked of the rose:
'What dost thou with the tears, which dawn
Sheds on thee every summer morn,
Thou sweetest flower that blows?'
The rose asked of the tomb:
'What dost thou with the treasures rare,
Thou hidest deep from light and air,
Until the day of doom?'
The rose said: 'Home of night,
Deep in my bosom, I distil
Those pearly tears to scents, that fill
The senses with delight.'
The tomb said: 'Flower of love,
I make of every treasure rare,
Hidden so deep from light and air,
A soul for heaven above!'
A. J. M.
The Conductors of Chambers's Journal beg to direct the attention of Contributors to the following notice:
1st. All communications should be addressed to the 'Editor, 339 High Street, Edinburgh.'
2d. To insure the return of papers that may prove ineligible, postage-stamps should in every case accompany them.
3d. All MSS. should bear the author's full Christian name, surname, and address, legibly written.