Wherefore mad’st Thou us so humble, So in lowliest clay entangled, God, O God? That we, with our own dear children No more to consort are worthy? So that, from our arms unskilful Thou dost them withdraw, O Father? When our sad frail hearts were breaking? Formerly ’twas sunshine round us, Days of peace, and long rejoicing, God, O God! Now is mortal silence o’er us, Now is icy hush of heart! As when storms have wrought their direst, Mastless, anchorless the barque drifts, So on Death’s grey waves we welter, And we still must live, O Father! --_Translated by Sir Edwin Arnold._ “The people here regard it as a great happiness to die on Thursday in holy week, for on that day, they say, Heaven is open, and one flies in. Consequently they regard me as a happy mother, to whom God has granted that for which they ever pray, which is that if He sees fit to take a child, it may die on this Thursday. What a curious coincidence! Even this brings us nearer to the people, for they regard us as so richly blessed. The whole country shows us the greatest sympathy. Our little grave is always covered with wreaths and flowers which are placed there by unknown hands. The girls from the Asyle come singly to the grave in the early morning, say their prayer, bring a little flower, and see that the lamp is still burning. It is a great help to me that I came into a country where so much is done in memory of the dead. Consequently that which lies nearest my heart is all arranged for me. ‘Dimbovitza apa dulce! Cine o bea nu se mai due!’ “Dimbovitza! Magic river, Silver shining, memory haunted, He who drinks thy crystal waters Ne’er can quit thy shores enchanted. Dimbovitza! all too deeply Drank I of thy flowing river; For my love, my inmost being There, meseems, have sunk for ever. Dimbovitza! Dimbovitza! All my soul hast thou in keeping, Since beneath thy banks of verdure Lies my dearest treasure sleeping.” Shortly before the child had been taken ill, the Princess had suffered much from her eyes, and could now hardly occupy herself at all. It was a great affliction to her to whom work was life! During these sad, dark days she framed the sweet expressions of her child in verses which one cannot read without emotion. The following poem is on the poetical desire of the little Princess to kiss the sunbeams:-- “On the earth, in the shimmer Of shining sunbeams Which in golden light gleams Paint the colours that glimmer, How often, my child, In those halcyon days Hast thou lain, and smiled, Kissing the rays. Didst draw them to thee With thy fingers in sport, Or came they unsought Thy playmates to be? I ne’er could divine, But methinks at thy birth Thou wast sent on a sunbeam To me and the earth.”