The last volume he has published is that which I now introduce to the reader: it contains, besides several already known, many new poems, and a ballad, called "Françouneto," which is acknowledged as a successful rival to "The Blind Girl." The rustic character of his descriptions, and the rustic dialect in which they are conveyed, give a tone of novelty and reality to his works quite peculiar to themselves. The force and powerful effect of the Gascon language is lost in reading the French version, appended to the original; but a very little attention will make that original understood, and the reward well repays the study. The "Abuglo" (the Blind Girl) thus opens-- "Del pè d'aquelo haouto mountagno Oùn se pinquo Castel-Cuillé; Altenque lou poumé, lou pruné, l'amellé, Blanquejâbon dens la campagno, Baci lou chan qu'on entendêt, Un dimècres mati, beillo de Sent-Jouzèt." "At the foot of the high mountain, where Castle-Cuillé stands in mid-air, at the season when the apple-tree, the plum, and the almond, are whitening all the country round, this is the song that was sung one Wednesday morning, the eve of St. Joseph." Then comes the chorus, which is no invention of the poet, but a refrain of the country, always sung at rustic weddings, in accordance with a custom of strewing the bridal path with flowers: "The paths with buds and blossoms strew! A lovely bride approaches nigh: For all should bloom and spring anew, A lovely bride is passing by." A description then follows of a rural wedding, introducing habits and superstitions, which remind one of Burns and Hallow-e'en. This picture of youth, gaiety, and beauty, is full of truth and nature; and the contrast is affecting, of the desolate situation of the young blind girl, who should have been the bride, but whom Baptiste, her lover, had deserted for one richer, since a severe malady had deprived her of her sight. Poor Marguerite (_Margarido_) still thinks him faithful, and expects his return to fulfil his vow, when the sound of the wedding music, and the explanation of her little brother, reveal to her all her misfortune. The song of hope and fear, as she sits expecting him, is extremely beautiful; and some of the expressions, in the original singular yet musical Gascon, must lose greatly by translation, either in French or English. Her lamentations on her blindness remind one of Milton's heart-rending words on the same subject:-- "Jour per aoutres, toutjour! et per jou, malhurouzo, Toutjour ney, toutjour ney!" "MARGARIDO'S REFLECTIONS." "After long months of sad regret Returned!--return'd? and comes not yet? Although to my benighted eyes He knows no other star may rise: He knows my lonely moments past, Expecting, hoping to the last. He knows my heart is faithful still, I wait my vows but to fulfil.