141

142

143

Friedrich Schiller

Karl Simrock

Luis Ponce De Leon

Trans. by Stevens

'TIS MARY LEADS MY THOUGHTS ASTRAY.

"BY HER NAME I HAVE

.

CALLED THEE"

NATIONAL RUSSIAN SONG

TO MARY

MARY'S EYES-or THE FOR-

TUNE TELLER

MARY WASHINGTON

HOMAGE TO MARY WASH-

INGTON

Gintio Carcans

THE UNIVERSAL NAME.

In the Christian World, Mary, the Garland Wears.-CHARles Lamb.

"I have a passion for the name of Mary."-LORD BYRON.

MARY is sounding in our ears,

From palace and from cot;

What place, of high or low degree
Where this loved name is not?

We read it oft in sacred writ,
This, poets most admire;
We see it oft on History's page,
No name exalted higher.

And Mary's name we love it still,
In palace or in cot;

It makes our very heart strings thrill,
Who is there loves it not?

L'INCONNUE.

'S thy name Mary maiden fair?

Such should methinks its music be;
The sweetest name that mortals bear
Were best befitting thee;

And she to whom it once was given,
Was half of earth and half of heaven.

I hear thy voice, I see thy smile,
I look upon thy folded hair;

Ah! while we dream not they beguile,
Our hearts are in the snare;

And she who claims a wild bird's wing,
Must start not if her captive sing.

So lady, take the leaf that falls,
To all but thee unseen, unknown;
When evening shades thy silent walls,
Then read it all alone;

In stillness read, in darkness seal,
Forget, condemn, but not reveal.

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

MARY.

WHAT though the name is old and oft repeated,

WHA What though a thousand beings bear it

now,

And true hearts oft the gentle word have greeted—
What though 'tis hallowed by a poet's vow?
We ever love the rose, and yet its blooming
Is a familiar rapture to the eye:

And yon bright star we hail, although its looming
Age after age has lit the northern sky.

As starry beam o'er troubled billows stealing,
As garden odors to the desert blown,
In bosoms faint a gladsome hope revealing,
Like patriot music or affection's tone:
Thus, thus, for aye, the name of Mary spoken
By lips or text, with magic-like control.

The course of present thought has quickly broken,
And stirred the fountains of my inmost soul.

The sweetest tales of human weal and sorrow,
The fairest trophies of the limner's fame,
To my fond fancy, Mary, seem to borrow,
Celestial halos from thy gentle name:
The Grecian artist gleaned from many faces,
And in a perfect whole the parts combined,
So have I counted o'er dear woman's graces,
To form the Mary of my ardent mind.