If the night begins to fail."

When she turn'd her eyes to heaven,
All with stars besprinkled o'er,
In the earth the dead man glided,
And she never saw him more.

Homeward went the sweet Eliza;
Oh, her heart was chill and cold:-
Wo is me! the Monday after,
Dead she lay beneath the mould!



SAINT OLUF.
FROM THE OLD DANISH.



St. Oluf was a mighty king,
Who rul'd the Northern land;
The holy Christian faith he preach'd,
And taught it, sword in hand.

St. Oluf built a lofty ship,
With sails of silk so fair;
"To Hornelummer I must go,
And see what's passing there."

"O do not go," the seamen said,