Oh shouldst thou fall, my Enguilbert, whose lips thy wounds will close?—
Who but thine own fond Emeugarde should watch o’er thy repose?
And pierced, and cold her faithful breast must be e’er spear or sword
Should ought of harm upon thee wreak, my Troubadour—my Lord.
—Nay smile not at my words, sweet-heart—the Goss hath slender beak
But brings its quarry nobly down—I love tho’ I am weak
—My Blood hath coursed thro’ Charlemagne’s veins, and better it should flow
Upon the field with Infidels’, than here congeal with woe.
—Ah Enguilbert—my soul’s adored! the tear is in thine eye;
Thou wilt not—can’st not leave me like the widowed dove to die:
—No—no—thine arm is round me—that kiss on my hot brow
Spoke thy assent, my bridegroom love,—we are ONE for ever now.
J. J. K.
THE GOLDEN TOOTH.
In 1593, it was reported that a Silesian child, seven years old, had lost all its teeth, and that a golden tooth had grown in the place of a natural double one.
In 1595, Horstius, professor of medicine in the university of Helmstadt, wrote the history of this golden tooth. He said it was partly a natural event, and partly miraculous, and that the Almighty had sent it to this child, to console the Christians for their persecution by the Turks.
In the same year, Rullandus drew up another account of the golden tooth.
Two years afterwards, Ingosteterus, another learned man, wrote against the opinion which Rullandus had given on this tooth of gold. Rullandus immediately replied in a most elegant and erudite dissertation.