Aurions-nous et donnons Sans songer au reste du monde ! by Goethe to Eckermann, that all poems should be founded on reality, Ni le flot de la mer, ni l'ouragan des monts, should spring from facts and take their Tant que nous nous aimons Ne courbera la tête blonde, Car l'amour est plus fort Que les dieux et la mort ! Le soleil s'éteindrait Pour laisser ta blancheur plus pure. Le vent qui jusqu'à terre incline la forêt, En passant n'oserait Jouer avec ta chevelure, Tant que tu cacheras Ta tête entre mes bras! Et lorsque nos deux cœurs S'en iront aux sphères heureuses Où les célestes lys écloront sous nos pleurs, Alors, comme deux fleurs Joignons nos lèvres amoureuses, Et tâchons d'épuiser La Mort dans un baiser! the same From the same cause comes also his extreme simplicity. Much of modern literature, both prose and poetry, has the complexity that comes of uniting opposite qualities, hitherto considered irreconcilable. The music of Wagner gives us sensations of color as well as sound, and appeals to the senses and the imagination at the same time. The difficulty of comprehension that Rossetti's works have met with has arisen in great measure from his uniting on canvas spiritual as well as material qualities. In the same way all art and every science is supposed to be translatable in terms of any other, and a great novelist of our time has often used the language of physical science to give expression to the laws of conduct. So poetry has attempted to gather within herself the universal expression of all human experience, and presses the metaphors of art and science into her service as a means of rendering the many-sidedness of life -the unity in diversity, and diversity in unity that is so great a feature of our time. Nothing of this is to be found in De 2 Banville; love and death, the domestic affections, the aspirations of his muse, are all treated in the same natural and simple way. e inspiration from the circumstance of every-day life, and wrote his "Idylles Persiennes," the same simplicity of feeling prevailed in his patriotic treatment of his country's woes. The following verses are an example of this: Les Pères Riant à la dent qui le mord, Plein d'une joie ardente et sûre, Un jeune franc-tireur est mort Ces jours derniers, de sa blessure. Nulle terreur sur son chevet Ne secoua l'ombre morose De son aile noir. Il avait Seize ans, et sa joue était rose. Eclat de l'aurore première Flotter des cheveux de lumière ! Quand la mort, hélas ! triomphant, Et ses lèvres de jeune vierge. Par l'épouvantable souffrance Lorsqu'il s'en réveilla, ne dit Que ces mots. "Dieu garde la France!" We must not close our notice of De Banville as a poet without mention of the humorous side of his muse, which has expressed itself in two instalments of "Odes Funambulesques," in 1849 and 1867. They are really vers de société, in which the most extravagant metre and the most absurd paradoxes are brought to bear on the social weaknesses of the day. The lyrical element is united to the grotesque and satirical most successfully, but as the allusions belong especially to the time and place that inspired them, the "Odes Funambulesques are probably the portion of De Banville's work which will least interest the English reader of to-day. There are, of course, a few exceptions to this, such as the ballad after Villon, " Des célébrités du temps jadis," and the verses called "Reprise de la Dame," of which we give the first few When he followed the advice given lines: Mourir de la poitrine Quand j'ai ces bras de lys, La lèvre purpurine Les cheveux de maïs. Et cette gorge rose, Est donc ce Dumas fils! Je fuis, pauvre colombe, Comme un roseau tremblant, J'expire en peignoir blanc. Though De Banville's chief and most successful efforts have been in lyrical poetry, he has experimented in other directions. In a volume of comedies, several of which have been given on the stage, he endeavored to do for comedy what Victor Hugo had already done for tragedy — namely, give it the lyrical qualities in which it had hitherto been deficient, and which alone could ensure its vitality. His sketches of Parisian life called "Contes et Fantaisies," and the "Souvenirs" before mentioned, show that he has as much command over prose as over verse, and make us wish that his attempts had been concerned with more important subjects. A little volume entitled "Petit Traité de Poésie " deserves more especial mention. In it he puts the result of his experience as a literary workman at the disposal of the aspiring and youthful poet, and shows how complete a knowledge he himself possesses of the theory of French verse. Any one desiring to make a special study of French poetry should have it as a constant companion, for the qualities especially characteristic of all De Banville has written in any department-clearness and simplicity prevail here as elsewhere. From The National Review. WHEN LIFE STIRS. BY A SON OF THE MARSHES.' LIFE is stirring in the air; only those who are about betimes on the hills and in the woods, miles away from the town or village, can fully enter into the full meaning of the brisk life of the early part of the year. The great tits feel it, and in gayest plumage they are in pairs in the old pollarded willows; you hear pincher! pincher! pincher! as it sounds only at this time of the year, when things are moving. Gales have passed over, making the branches of the trees creak and snap off, but all is quiet again. The woods are looking peaked up; by that I mean that though the buds are showing, none are open yet; but they are ready to burst when the sun helps with his warm rays. as Great birds, with large wings and strange cries, come and go, now, they have ever done within the memory of those who have for generations lived near the hills and the moors below them, by night or day, passing over on their way to their nesting haunts in the far North. These are wild geese; whether they be birds of good or evil omen opinions differ. At one time they were not regarded very favorably; their cries sounded weird and uncanny to the woodlanders as they passed over. TE When the evening closed in, before fastening the door for the night-bedtime in those days was at eight o'clock -the master of the house would have a final look round at the signs of the coming weather. De Banville's seven volumes of prose and verse are all to be had in the "Edition Charpentier," so well known to English travellers; and though his "The firs is all of a hum, mother range of subject is not wide-though 'twill be louder afore long. An' hark! he never attains the elevation of them 'ere cries is in the air again. I' thought of Victor Hugo, or the perfec-put up the shutter an' fasten the door." Cuckoo pints, or, as they are called of the wood or the timber trees they in some districts, lords and ladies, the have selected ring again. It is a diffipoisonous arums of the hedgerows, cult matter to find out the exact tree show now under the hollow banks. they are at work on when they are These cuckoo pints and the stormcock fairly at their carpentering, for the are two features which when life stirs birds take turn and turn about at the are noticed by all; the green sheath of tunnelling business, and when one is at the one and the loud, bold song of the work the other is on the watch, lookother attract ear and eye quickly. The ing down on you as you creep through mistle thrush is the earliest member of the under stuff. As a rule some lucky his family whose song welcomes the accident enables you to determine on turn of the year. His relatives, the the exact spot; to your great astonishsong thrush and the blackbird, are early ment you find that you had been nesters, frequently having eggs laid searching in quite the wrong direction. before those other thrushes, the red- The last tunnel that I examined had wing and the field-fare, have made up young in it; the oak in which it was their minds to leave us; but they can stood out by itself on the sward. hardly be said to sing yet. Now and That full twit, twit, twit! like the then they do make a start, but not be- lower notes of a fife, comes from the fore the furrows reek with the warm nimble nuthatch that is busily travelApril showers will they be in full song.ling over the trunks and limbs of the The first to rejoice in the new life is nearest trees. This rich full twit! that undaunted woodland singer, the must be heard to be fully appreciated, stormcock; and his song is a welcome for like the laugh of the green woodone, fitting in with the rush of gales, pecker it is not to be described by the and the tossing of tree branches, when pen. On the top twigs just swaying to all life is stirring. and fro in the soft air, are the greenfinches, calling now as they will call at times in the heat of summer, Breeze, breeze-e-e, Breeze! The green woodpecker and his mate are busy now, prospecting round; for the grubs, that have burrowed deep down in their tunnels, now draw up as near as they can to the bark, warmth being necessary for their perfect development. It is wonderful what a wealthfulness which shall soon gladden all of insect life old trees hold. As the time follows on, more decided evidence is daily given that the heart of mighty nature is throbbing with the her children; the music of the winds, soft winds, that wave and bend without breaking, can be heard on the wide, open commons of the uplands. Linnets gather and twitter to each other; the cock birds are very handsome now, for they are in full nesting, or we should have said, in full breeding plumage. One near us perched on the tips of some golden furze bloom, has a breast like a rose; he is no longer the grey lintie," he is now the rosebreasted linnet of the commoners' children. It takes these woodpeckers some one. 66 little flick of wool the sheep have left on the thorns as they passed, with which his mate will line her nest, a bird not larger than a ring ouzel shoots up the rough track, about a foot from the ground; it rises like a flash, and the linnet is captured by a male sparrow-hawk. If the hawk had shown itself above, all the birds would have dropped in the bushes. The hawk knew this and made his capture in the way described. owl hump his back up, flutter his weak wings, and turn his head from side to side, for he could hear the call of his parents, but could not see me. Pheasants crow and partridges call over ridge and furrow, and the hares course about in merry fashion; but as the fox and his vixen have a family to provide for, some of their frolics may be stopped prematurely. same places, but these are gone now. Daisies and the golden buttercups now spangle the meadows. "My brother what's just come home from foreign parts, said as how he felt as if he could bust out cryin' for joy The daffy-down-dillies have been when he leant on the gate o' our med-gathered in the moist woodland meadder, an' heard the blackbirds sing in ows by the children, to their hearty the old elms at the bottom on it. The content; and nice bunches of snowbirds is most hansom', an' cur'ous, drops had been gathered from the where he's bin, he says, and some on 'em sings. But he said not one on 'em could iver make him feel like that couple o' cock blackbirds a-singin' in our old elms." So spake a young friend of mine as we stood by the cottage gate together. For the time has come, noticed by ancient lovers of the woods and all that pertains to woodland lore, when the merle and the mavis are singing. Flitting and piping, first on one side of the hedgerows, then on the other, are the bullfinches, making for the gardens. "One swallow does not make a summer," says the old adage; the first originator of that saying must, I think, have been a little cantankerous; but the swallow, whenever he is seen, surely tells that brighter days are in store for us. So far as the cuckoo is concerned, he has of late years been a little unfortunate. Snowstorms do not suit his constitution; for all that he pulls through. Very curious notions exist about this bird in some localities. "Now look here, I don't care what you says, if you jabbered on fur a week. Cuckoos turn into hawks. An' I can tell ye summat else as will make yer open yer eyes a bit, -swallers in the winter goes under the mud like eels. I'd sooner believe my father's old book what tells ye about the swaller stone an' the swaller herb than I would what you says on it. Why, that ere book was writ afore my grandfather's It come down to us in the famAn' I've heerd my old granny all critters an' herbs - an' us as was all under the power o' the On a bit of greensward by the edge of a woodland road a doe rabbit has brought her litter of young ones from her stop in a ploughed field the other side of the hedge. As they sit crouched round about her, the old doe looks as if she was sitting among some scattered potatoes; for only the arch of the youngsters' backs show, and they are close to the hedge, ready for a bolt if required. And well they may be, for the dusk of a spring evening is drawing on, and before we cleared the last tim-time. bered copse we heard very cat-like mewings from some young owls of the long-eared kind. In fact, for half an hour I had been amusing myself by getting in one of the hollow ash pollards and calling one of the "branchers to me. He was not able to fly, but he could flutter and jump from bough to bough. It was a most ludicrous performance to see the young bley. Jack was only proving in his own rough way what our forefathers in their own limited and peculiar fashion had noticed of the resting time of nature, and the time when life stirs. For EIGHT DOLLARS remitted directly to the Publishers, the LIVING AGE will be punctually forvarded for a year, free of postage. Bemittances should be made by bank draft or check, or by post-office money-order, if possible. If either of these can be procured, the money should be sent in a registered letter. 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