Lorsque l'été commence et qu'on peut s'envoler,”
we find the same delicacy of thought, the same rippling, flowing language; and what joyousness and how cheery it sounds: il est si bon de vivre.
But Marie Jenna strikes deeper chords, awakes more solemn strains, than these; and through them all, the graver as the lighter, binding them in one harmonious whole, there sings out the same clear note of firm, enlightened faith that never [pg 718] wavers; it penetrates each thing she handles, giving that breadth and largeness to her field of view that it alone can give. In some beautiful stanzas, “Beati qui lugeant,” she draws near to one bowed down with sorrow, and fearlessly, yet oh! how tenderly touching the wound because she knows its cure, she speaks:
“Va, ton sein cache en vain le glaive qui le blesse:
J'ai compris ton silence et j'ai prié pour toi.
Laisse aller ta fierté comme un poids qui t'oppresse,
Et pleure devant moi.
“Il est, je le sais bien, des jours où la souffrance
Trouve en sa solitude une âpre volupté;
Et le monde léger voit passer en silence