TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF MADAME DACIER FOR THE INTERNATIONAL MAGAZINE,
BY MARY E. HEWITT.
Niobé, maddened by her woes, of yore.
The gods in pity turned to marble fair;
And wretched Progné, doomed for evermore,
Changed to a swallow wings the upper air.
But ah! would Love, whom I, enslaved, obey,
By his sweet power transform me, I would be
The mirror in thy hand, if thus, alway,
Thy gentle eyes would fondly turn on me.
Or, I would be the perfume that reveals
Its fragrance 'mid the tresses of thy hair;
Or, that soft veil which o'er thy bosom steals,
And jealous, hides the ivory treasure there.
Or I would be the robe that round thee flows,
The zone that circles thee with fond caress;
The rivulet that with thy beauty glows,
And to its breast enclasps thy loveliness.
Or I were blest those envied pearls to be
That closely thus thy swan-white neck entwine;
Or e'en to be the sandal, pressed by thee,
Were, for thy lover, destiny divine.
SWEDISH LANDSCAPES: BY HERR ANDERSEN.
In the last International we gave some characteristic historical sketches from Hans Christian Andersen's latest and most delightful book, the Pictures of Sweden; but the inspiration of nature is more powerful with him than that of history, and he is never so felicitous as when painting the scenery of his native country, though he has certainly indulged, to a greater extent than a sober taste can approve, in that passion for the fantastic and visionary, which has been but too visibly manifested in some of his later and slighter works. Our readers, however, shall judge for themselves. The forests of Sweden and its rivers give the most noticeable features to its landscape. This is how they appeared to Andersen—the forest first: