"Hernani" was in the regular "stock" of the Théâtre Français, "Rigoletto" (Le Roi s'Amuse) always at the Italian opera-house, while the same subject, under the title of "The Fool's Revenge," held, as it still holds, a high position on the Anglo-American stage. Finally, the poetic romance of "Torquemada," for over thirty years promised, came forth in 1882, to prove that the wizard-wand had not lost its cunning. After dolor, fêtes were come: on one birthday they crown his bust in the chief theatre; on another, all notable Paris parades under his window, where he sits with his grandchildren at his knee, in the shadow of the Triumphal Arch of Napoleon's Star. It is given to few men thus to see their own apotheosis. Whilst he was dying, in May, 1885, Paris was but the first mourner for all France; and the magnificent funeral pageant which conducted the pauper's coffin, antithetically enshrining the remains considered worthy of the highest possible reverence and honors, from the Champs Elysées to the Pantheon, was the more memorable from all that was foremost in French art and letters having marched in the train, and laid a leaf or flower in the tomb of the protégé of Châteaubriand, the brother-in-arms of Dumas, the inspirer of Mars, Dorval, Le-maître, Rachel, and Bernhardt, and, above all, the Nemesis of the Third Empire. EARLY POEMS. MOSES ON THE NILE. _("Mes soeurs, l'onde est plus fraiche.")_ [TO THE FLORAL GAMES, Toulouse, Feb. 10, 1820.] "Sisters! the wave is freshest in the ray Of the young morning; the reapers are asleep; The river bank is lonely: come away! The early murmurs of old Memphis creep Faint on my ear; and here unseen we stray,-- Deep in the covert of the grove withdrawn, Save by the dewy eye-glance of the dawn. "Within my father's palace, fair to see, Shine all the Arts, but oh! this river side, Pranked with gay flowers, is dearer far to me Than gold and porphyry vases bright and wide; How glad in heaven the song-bird carols free! Sweeter these zephyrs float than all the showers Of costly odors in our royal bowers. "The sky is pure, the sparkling stream is clear: Unloose your zones, my maidens! and fling down To float awhile upon these bushes near Your blue transparent robes: take off my crown, And take away my jealous veil; for here To-day we shall be joyous while we lave Our limbs amid the murmur of the wave. "Hasten; but through the fleecy mists of morn, What do I see? Look ye along the stream! Nay, timid maidens--we must not return! Coursing along the current, it would seem An ancient palm-tree to the deep sea borne, That from the distant wilderness proceeds, Downwards, to view our wondrous Pyramids.