C^-aV 2.:^#^iy ^1 PRIVATELY PRINTED ^clsl'^J^Mi) ' ^' 7 1. A C m Q THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES •^-^^^ ^ ^.^^.^ ^^^^. SELECTION OF BALLADS TRANSLATED CHIEFLY FROM GERMAN AUTHORS PRIVATELY PRINTED iS73- HE contents of this little Volume are composed of Trans- lations from Foreign (principally German) Authors, made by the Compiler for his own amusement, in the course of two summer tours on the Continent. They have been printed for, and at the instance of, private friends, especially one to whose kind assistance and consummate knowledge of the German language he is indebted for any merit in the work ; but he feels that he ought not to let them go forth without this acknowledgment, nor without apologies to the Authors of the original Poems for the indifference of the Transla- tions, rind for some slight departure, in a few instances, from the actual text. Generally the Translations are as literal as possible. C. K. F. Sept. 1873. 941903 CON TEN TS . oJ«Ko " Fernando, why so serious ?" the great Columbus said, " Bring'st thou bad news that thus thou coni'st, with bent and hanging head " My noble chief thou judgest right, the crew's in mutiny, ^7 " In headlong wrath they seek thy life, and come to bid thee die ;" While thus he spoke, a crowd was heard, nearing the cabin door, The rabble rout came rushing aft, with a mighty tempest's roar. " Where now your hopes and promises, you perjured man ?" they cried "Too long we've braved the stormy winds and ploughed the briny tide, " Thus far like fools we've followed thee, and now we pine for food, " Yet ere we die, we'll have revenge. Traitor, we'll have th}- blood !" The ruffians said, but all unmoved, the hero gazed around, And when he spoke, the roar was hushed, and silence reigned profound. " Speak not of broken trust," he said, " the land is there, 'tis there, " I see it with the eye of faith, if not in nether air, " Yet hear me now, one compact more, 'tis but a little space, " The night is settling on the deep, till morn I ask your grace." His words, his godlike mien assuaged, the fury of the crew. With downcast looks, and murmurs low, they yielded and withdrew, Then sank Columbus on his knees and upward winged a prayer: " Oh ! hear me Lord Almighty hear, the land I know is there, •^"^ B " Oh, hear mc, and their wrath abate, it irks me not to die, " But all my cherished hopes to dash, my creed to falsify." The night wore on, deep silence reigned, the stars in heaven were bright, His gaze was ever westward turned, till dawned the morning light, And when he rose, the glorious sun, and on a watery waste. Without a sign of land, or shore, his slanting beams were cast, The hero groaned, yet not for fear, but for a wasted life. As uproar rose, and sounds approached, the sounds of coming strife. The crew drew near, now traitor, now — prepare to meet thy fate, They dragged him to the vessel's side, with scowls of scorn and hate ; The godlike hero knelt him down, he seemed as in a dream, A cry was heard from the mizen top, " Land, land on the weather beam ! " And there beneath the western heaven, a narrow streak was seen, Gilt with the sun's extending beams the sea and sky between, The hero from his knees uprose, the crew sank down on theirs, There was an end of all his woes, an answer to his prayers. LUISA Brachmann. (^ateiir^fj. A MOORISH BALLAD. o»io The Moorish knight, Calainos, rode thro' the olive grove, And as he rode, his eye surveyed, the royal towers above. An aged Moor was pacing slow the battlemented walls, "Now, gentle Moor," the knight exclaimed, "shew me the princely halls " Where dwells the lady of my love, for whom 'twere joy to die, " Sibyl Infanta fair, pride of all Paynimrie." The lady from her casement looked, and smiling overheard The knight's impassioned language, — she heard it every word. And when the knight beheld the maid, his eye lit up with fire, " Lady," he said, " I bring thee news, fresh tidings from thy sire, " Almonzor brave, whom I have served seven years for love of thee." Descending, then, the maid addrest the knight with courtesy, " And who art thou, Sir knight," she said, " And by what noble name " In courts and halls, to friend and foe, do thee thy deeds proclaim." " Calainos, lady, is my name, lord of Arabia's land, " The Turk, the Moor, the Saracen, acknowledge my command. " To me the Grand Turk tribute pays, and holy Prester John, "To me rich gifts and tribute come from mighty Babylon; " Yet as a slave thy sire I serve, and cross the stormy sea, '• Encountering death in c\cry form, and all for love of thee." •' Calainos, oh ! Calainos," the royal maid exclaimed, "You know not, oh ! you know not, the boon that you have claimed: " For he whose high ambition soars to have mc for his bride, " A thousand perils must incur — He must to Paris ride, " And bring me back the heads of three, — three proud and valiant knights, - " Peerless in fame for mighty deeds, first in a thousand fights, " Orlando, nobly born and brave, the lordly Oliveiros, " Ronaldo of Montalvan, too, throe bold and mighty heroes." Calainos, when he heard her words, bent low upon his knee, " Sybilla sweet. Infanta fair, now give thy hand to me, "That I may press it with my lips, in pledge that thou art mine, " When low beneath my falchion's edge, the traitors lie supine." The lady gave her solemn troth, and from the palace gate, With joyful air the knight went forth, arrayed in princely state, The crescent on his banners waved, his trumpets challenged loud, And thus he entered Paris gates with mien and aspect proud. Bound to the chase, the Imperial train had sallied forth that morn, Ronaldo brave, and Oliveiros, Orlando nobly born, .And many a Paladin and Peer, and many a knight and squire. Then rode there up a horseman bold, arrayed in Moor's attire, " What dost thou here," the Monarch cried, " How dar'dst thou penetrate, " Sir Moor, our royal realm of France, and enter Paris gate .'" " Sire," said the Moor, with dauntless mien, " I serve Calainos brave ; "He bade me, as his Herald here, thy royal favor crave, " To challenge all thy lordly host. Prince, Paladin, and Peer, " On foot or horse, with spear or blade, in arms to meet him here." 5 " Ne'er, in my youth," the Monarch cried, " such words were said to me, " Nor stranger knight had unassailed, entered our fair citie. " Now haste thee, tell thy master proud, Orlando shall him meet, " And dead or living shall him bring, and lay him at my feet." Then silently the Moor withdrew, and rose Orlando bold, " My liege," he said, " Thou knowest well, nor needest to be told, " Were twice a thousand Pagans here in arms I'd meet them all, " But let this solitary knight to meaner weapons fall." All silent were the peers of P'rance, till youthful Baldwin rose, " Orlando, as a peer of France, thy counsel I oppose ; " Permit me, Sire, to meet the knight and give him quick despatch, " A peer of France must ever be for any knight a match." In vain the Monarch pleads, in vain, — his steed young Baldwin spurs, To where the knight his onset waits, beneath a clump of firs. " Now pause," the Moorish knight exclaims, " brave youth and be my page, " And I will give thee lands and wage, a goodly heritage." " Calainos, bate thine insolence," the noble youth replied, " And meet me here in arms as now so proudly thou'st defied." ■' Not so, fair Prince, to Paris speed, for if with me you fight, " Pierced by my lance, you'll never see to-morrow's dawning light ! " Swift at these words the youthful prince dashed on in mad career ; The Moor, reluctant, met his charge, and foiled him with his spear. Then leaping from his charger down, his scimitar he drew, " Now tell me quickly, youth," he said, "Who art thou.' tell me true." " Baldwin, a peer of France am I, Orlando's sister's son." '• Then take thy life, and follow me, a captive's fortune shun, " Orlando, then, and Oliveiros, Rinaldo, peers of France, " Will meet me here in deadly fray, and fall beneath my lance." Orlando from afar had viewed the ill-matched knights engage, But when he saw his nephew's fate, he summoned quick his page, And all in arms, with spear and blade, accoutred for the fray. Across the intervening plain, eager he spurred his way. With joy the Moor confronts his foe, " Who art thou, Cavalier ? " Tell me thy name, and answer true, art thou of France a peer ? " " Dog of a Moor," Orlando cried, " No terms I hold with thee, " Release the noble youth from bonds, prepare to fight with me." Then to the charge they fiercely rush, witli deadly thrust and blow, Rut soon the brave Orlando's sword, has laid Calainos' low. Then by the beard he seizes him, " Tell me, thou Moorish spy, " How did'st thou dare to enter France, and the twelve Peers defy .' " " I love a noble Moorish maid," the prostrate knight replied, " She bound her by her sacred troth, to be my lovely bride, " When at her feet I laid the heads of Oliveiros true, " Ronaldo proud, Montalvan, and brave Orlando, too." " Calainos," said Orlando, " One — who laid such task on thee, " Was little worthy of thy love, or knightly fealty; " But for thine arrogance and pride, thou well descrv'st to die, " Prepare thee, then, for instant death, nor ask my clemency." And with the words he raised his sword, and with the trenchant blade, Low on the sod his gory head, cleft from the shoulders, laid. Then all the twelve applauded loud and uttered shouts of joy. And hasted from his bonds to free the brave and princely boy. And tluis it was Calainos fell beneath the sword and lance Of brave Orlando, noble knight, the mighty peer of France. Wlu ^iinV^ ^u\u. oi^D In ancient times a castle stood High on a table land, Commanding all the country round, And the far distant strand, Surrounded by a perfumed belt, A galaxy of flowers, And watered by a thousand jets, Sparkling like rainbow showers. A haughty monarch in the halls. Sat brooding on his throne, In lands and conquests rich, indeed, Yet in his glory lone. His thoughts were all of horrors dark, Fierce passions in his mood. His words were all of vengeance dire. His judgments all of blood. 8 There came unto his castle once A noble looking pair, One was a youth with golden locks, And one had snow white hair. The old man bore a silver harj), And gallant steed did ride, The blooming youth, in life's first spring, Tripped gaily by his side. The old man spoke in loving terms, " Prepare, my son, I pray, " Thy sweetest songs, thy mellowest tones, " For this eventful day ; " Put forth thy skill, strain every nerve, " And summon all thine art, " Haply to touch, by magic spell, " This monarch's stony heart." And now within that noble hall, They stand, the minstrel pair, The King is seated on his throne, Beside his Consort fair, The Monarch, in his crimson robes, Is like the blood-red star. The Queen, in snowy drapery, Like moonbeam from afar. And now the old man strikes the chords With such a magic power, That rich and richer swell the tones, Thro' hall^ and roof, and tower. Clear as a bell the stripling's voice Warbles like evening bird, While through it, as in angel choir, The old man's notes are heard. They sang of spring and love, The joys of golden youth, Of freedom — man's renown — Of holiness and truth. They sang of all that's bright and fair, In this our mortal state, And told of all the noble deeds Man's heart could elevate. The crowd of giddy courtiers, all Forgot their empty jests ; The King's most mighty warriors To Heaven they bowed their crests. The Queen, in deep emotion plunged. Of sorrow and of joy, From out her bosom tore the rose, And threw it to the boy ! C lO Uprose the King in frenzy wild, Mis breast with passion rife, " My people's minds ye have enthralled, Willi charms bewitched my wife ! He hurls his javelin at the youth, It penetrates his chest ; Instead of golden song there flows His life-blood from his breast. As by a mighty storm dispersed, The audience quick retired, For, lo ! within his father's arms. The stripling has expired; And he, he wraps his mantle round, And sets him on his horse, And from the castle turning sad He wends his weary course. But ere he quits the postern gate, The minstrel takes his stand. He grasps his harp, his matchless harp. The glory of the land, He dashes it against the walls, It crashes on the ground, While through the halls and castle yard His accents wild resound. 1 1 " Woe, woe, ye halls ! eternal woe ! " Belong to you and yours, " No songs shall ever more be heard, " Within your ancient towers ; " But sighs, and sobs, and slavish steps, " And many a stifled groan, " Till vengeance dark has worked your fall, " And crushed your every stone " Woe, woe, ye gardens, blooming now, " With all the flowers of May, " Behold, with horror and remorse, " This cold, disfigured clay. •' Thus shall your blossoms withering fade, " And all your springs be dry, " Soon shall your lawns and gay parterres " An arid desert lie. " Woe, woe to thee, thou murderer, " Thou curse to minstrel art, " The glories of thy house shall fade, " Thy earthly fame depart : " And all forgotten be thy name, " Lost in eternal night, " Like artificial star, but now "That blazed with brilliant liyiit. 12 He spake, the brave old man, Heaven heard his righteous doom, In ruin lie those castle towers, Its halls arc steeped in gloom. One only marble column tells, Of splendour past away, And this has felt the storm, and fast Lies crumbling to decay. Instead of perfumed gardens now. All is a desert land ; No tree doth lend its kindly shade, No fountains pierce the sand. For, lo ! the minstrel's curse is heard. And lost to mortal fame. No bard shall sing, no lay shall breathe That monarch's hated name. UlU..\ND. 13 Jconora. oj»«o From restless dreams fair Leonore Rose to her daily cares once more, " Art thou faithless ? Art thou dead ? " William, my true love ! " she said ; For in King Frederick's bloody war, To Prague's stern battle he had gone, And to his fair Leonore, Word of love had written none. The Empress and the King at length, Their wrath exhausted, and their strength. With softened hearts at last made peace. And gave their weary troops release. And the armies, glad and joyous, To their homes returned victorious. Colours flying, trumpets sounding. Every heart with rapture bounding. 14 In every house, in every place, Gladness reigned on every face, Old and young, with songs of joy, Hailed the Victors, man and boy. Thanks to Heaven went up for life, From many a parent, child, and wife, But for Leonora lone, Was there kiss or greeting none. Oft she asked, and asked in vain. Many a warrior 'mong the train ; None of all that mighty host, Could give tidings of her lost. And now that all the crowd are gone, And Leonora left alone. She threw her down and tore her hair, With gesstures wild, in mad despair. Her mother hasted to her side. She caught her in her arms and cried, " My child ! my child ! what ails thee, say, " Have pity on her. Lord, I pray." " Oh ! mother, mother, all is lost, " To dark despair my soul is driven ; " My mind is racked and tempest tost, " For me no mercy is in Heaven." IS " Now, God forgive her ! Oh ! my child, " For patience pray, and grace, and light, " For God is full of mercy mild, " And all he does is good and right." " Oh ! mother, say not so, for what " Have all my vows and prayers availed ? " Heaven has denounced my wretched lot, " And all my hopes on earth have failed." " Heaven help her ! Oh ! bethink thee child, " The Church's sacraments will calm, " Will soothe and tame these passions wild. " And give thy wounded spirit balm." " Oh ! mother^ all too deep my woes, " For any leech to heal or close, " The Church can me no comfort give, " It cannot bid the dead to live." " My, child, if thy betrothed be slain, " 'Tis vain to wish him back again ; " But if to thee he faithless be, ■" God will avenge his perjurj'. " Abjure the false one— be content ; " God will award him punishment." i6 •■ Oh ! mother, mother, lost is lost. " And gone is gone for ever ; " A shadow dark my life has cros't, " The sun shall gild it never " Would that I never had been born, " Wretched, disconsolate; forlorn, " Death is my fate, and misery, " For Heaven has mercy none for me." " Help her, Oh, God ! Oh, help my child ; " Pardon her sin — her passions wild. " Her thoughtless words remember not, " Have pity on her hapless lot. " And thou, my child, forget thy sorrow, " The blackest midnight has a morrow. " And He, in Heaven, who pities thee, " The Bridegroom of thy Soul will be." " Oh ! mother, mother, what is Heaven ? " Oh ! mother, what is Hell .' " Without my William, what were Heaven .' " Or with him, what were Hell .' " In cloud, and mist, and darkness let " The sun of my existence set. " Without my William, earth were naught, " Without him, Heaven were dearly bought ! ' 17 'Twas thus tlie hapless maiden raged, Thus war with Heaven's decrees she waged ; She wrung her hands and struck her breast, Till sank the glorious sun to rest. And stars began to shimmer through Heaven's vaulted arch of azure blue. 'Tis night, the tramp of steed is nigh— The clash of arms- — a knight rides by ; The clang of drawbridge, clank of spur. And measured tread the night air stir, Gently, softly, clink, clink, clink, Thro' the oaken doorway chink ; A knight dismounts and treads the stair. And, hark, a voice is calling there. " Hollah ! hollah ! my love, my bride, " Open the portal, open wide ; " Art thou waking, art thou sleeping > " Smiling sweet, or sadly weeping.'" " Ah ! William, is it thou .' " she said, " Whence com'st thou, say, and why so late .' " Thro' weary days and nights I've prayed, " And wrestled with the laws of fate." D I8 " My love, my lovo, I've ridden far, " We saddled with the evening star ; " I've come to bear thcc to my home, " 'Tis late, 'tis late, my loved one come." " Oh ! William, enter quick my love, " The wind is whistling through the grove, " Come to my arms, beloved, come, " My heart, my bosom, are thy home." " The wind, my child, oh, let it blow, " My black steed paws the ground below ; " I may not linger here — The night " Is waning fast, the moon shines bright ; " Come doff thy train and mount behind " My charger, swifter than the wind, " For we a hundred miles must ride, " Ere I can claim thee for my bride." " What ! must we ride a hundred miles, " Ere fate upon our bridal smiles ? " Nay, but the bell now sounds the hour, " Eleven upon the belfry tower." " My love, look here ! my love, look here ! " The moon shines bright, the moon shines clear ; " We, and the dead, we travel fast, " We'll reach the goal, ere night be past." 19 " But tell me where shall be our home, " Where to thy arms thy bride may come ? " " My love, 'tis far away," he said, " Our nuptial couch is duly spread. " Six feet by two " " is room for me ? " " Nay, room enough for me and thee ; " So mount my steed, the bridal waits, " The wedding guests are at the gates." The maiden loosed her train and sprang To the steed's back ; his trappings rang: Her lily arms she closely wound Her true knight's belted waist around ; Hoorah ! hoorah ! with snort and stamp, The steed's hoofs echo, tramp, tramp, tramp. And scatter sparks, and pebbles throw. As at mad gallop wild they go. To right and left, before their sight, Pastures and forests wing their flight ; The bridges clatter, " Dost thou fear .' " My love, my love, the moon shines clear. " Hoorah ! the dead ride fast," he said ; " My love, and dost thou fear the dead .' " " Oh, no ! but speak not of the dead." 20 But hark ! there sounds a dismal moan, Seems it a dirge or dying groan ? The ravens flap their wings, — a bell, Tolls a departed mortal's knell. And near approaches and more near, A coffin dark, with pall and bier; Mid muttcrings harsh and grating sound, Like croak of frog in marshy ground. " Bury the corpse for midnight's nigh," A chaunt of voices seems to sigh ; " Nay, now I bear my young wife home, " Come Sexton to the wedding come ; " Come Priest and bless my lovely bride, " Ere I dare place her by my side." The cliaunt was hushed, the moon shone clear, Vanished the crew, the coffin, bier, Obedient to the rider's call, Hoorah ! hoorah ! they followed all. The steed he bounds with snort and stamp, His hoofs re- echoing tramp, tramp, tramp. While sparks they scatter, pebbles throw. As at wild gallop still they go. 21 Trees and hedges seem to fly, Right and left as they pass them by ; Towns and vilagcs left behind, Flit like sere leaves on the wind. " Fears't thou, my love ? the dead ride fast, " We shall reach the goal of our race at last. " Fears't thou the dead, my love," he said — "Oh! let them rest them, rest the dead." See there ! See there ! round a Judgment throne. An airy crew seem to dance and crone. " Come follow us, follow us, my liege men, " Dance at our wedding my merry men ; " We speed to our bridal, the guests they wait, " Join us betimes at the church yard gate." So the Spirits came hustling fast behind, As the leaves sweep rustling on tlie wind. And still the wild gallop, with snort and stamp, The steed's hoofs thundering tramp, tramp, tramp, They scatter the sparks and pebbles throw, As at mad gallop wild they go. Still they speed and they speed away, Like the stars by night and the sun by day. 22 " Fears't thou, my love ? the dead ride fast, " We shall reach our bridal couch at last. " Fears't thou the dead ?" " Alas," she said, " \\'h>- wilt thou speak of the silent dead ? " " Hark ! hark ! I hear the cock doth crow, " Soon will my flickering sand outflow ; " I smell the scent of the morning air, " Our course is run, the goal is there. " Speed, speed, good steed, and thou, my bride, " Quickly shall sleep by thy lover's side ; " Hoorah ! hoorah ! the dead ride fast, " We've reached the place of our rest at last ! " On they rush to a grated door, Bolt and bar gave way before : The gates spontaneous open fly, With clang and jar as the steed draws nigh, Thro' churchyard drear, over graves they steer. On many a tomb the moon shines clear. But, hist ! oh, hist ! from the knight there fall. Helmet and armour, and garments all. In strips like tinder dry they fall. His scalp is white, without flesh or hair. His body is naught but a skeleton bare ; 23 And in his hand he holds a glass, To mark the hours as they swiftly pass, And over his shoulder a sickle dread, His harvest to reap of the ghastly dead. The black steed rears and snuffs the wind, And snorting scatters sparks behind, The earth beneath them sinks : the air Echoes with howls of wild despair; Low moanings rise up from below, Down, down into the depths they go. Maiden, for thee no nuptial wreath, Alas ! thou art the bride of death. And now in moonlight, round and round. The spirits in a circle bound, And howl their joy and ecstasy. That thus a human soul should die — " Alas ! if God seems hard with thee, " Strive not, but suffer patiently, " And thou, poor child, who bravedst Heaven, " Be thy presumptuous sin forgiven ! " Burger. 24 lludolph of Dapiiburj. oXKo At his Coronation banquet, In imperial pride elate, Rudolph, Count of Hapsburg, sat Lord of the Palatinate. The meats with which his table groaned Were from the banks of Rhine, Bohemian vineyards grew the grapes, Which sparkled in his wine ; And round him, as the stars of Heaven, Surround the glorious sun, The Seven Electors seated there. Did homage every one. In royal hall, in gorgeous state, With banners rich unfurled. Supporting in his proud estate. The Emperor of the World. 25 Princes and Counts and noble dames Studded the galleries. And martial band and trumpet blast Mixed with the people's cries : For long a prey to lawless rule, The poor and weak opprest, Hailed with acclaim their new found King, Their rising fortunes blest. The golden goblet to his lips The mighty Monarch raised. And on the glittering scene around, With smiles complacent gazed. " Right royal is the sight," he said, " Right royal the repast ; " It glads my heart, and pays the debt, " Of many a sorrow past. " One feature lacks, and only one, " In this imperial hall, " The Bard and Minstrel whom I loved, " And honored above all : " As Knight, his counsels won my love, " His music stole my heart, " Nor can I now, as Emperor, " With such companion part." Then from the crowd an aged man Stepped forth and bent him low, E 26 Stately his form, in flowing robe, His locks as white as snow : Strains of immortal melody, Like music of the spheres, Lay sleeping in his harp and voice. Too sweet for mortal ears. He sang of love and noble deeds, With elevating fire, And charmed his hearers' hearts and bade To higher aims aspire. " Most puissant Emperor," he said, " I greet thee loyally, " At this thy royal banquet ; say, " What would'st thou, Sire, with me ? " " Nay," said the Monarch, " 'Tis not mine, " The minstrel to command, " He serves a mightier Lord than me, " Tho' ruler of this land. " The minstrels gifts are not of earth, " 'Tis Heaven inspires his lay, " The chords that vibrate in his song, " Are like the Zephyr's play, " Or like the muttering of the storm, " The tempest's angry roll, " That come we know not whence, " But reach from Pole to Pole : 27 " And as the fountain from below, " In earth's recesses wells, " And rising from the caverned depths, " Into a torrent swells, " So music's power divinely born, " Yields not to man's control, " But stirs the heart and brings to light, " The secrets of the soul." Then thus adjured the Minstrel struck His silver sounding lyre, And thus he improvised his lay. With all a poet's fire : — Forth to the chas e on gallant steed, A noble Count was bound, He crossed the mountain and the mead, And heard the torrent's sound. He neared its banks — a tinkling bell, Mixed with the waters roar. He saw a Priest, and augured well, To the sick the Host he bore. The torrent roared, the torrent roared. The Priest he bore the Cross, The Count knelt down upon the sward, Alighting from his horse. 28 Uncovered, by tlic racing flood, Reverent he bent his head. For well he knew how Jesus' blood, For mortal sins was shed. Tlie Priest ho laid his burthen down, He placed it on the grass. He doffed his shoes and russet gown. That he the stream might pass. The Count with wonder marked the deed. " Brav'st thou. Sir Priest, the flood ? " " Count ! to a dying man I speed, " Wlio pines for heavenly food. " The trunk that bridged the narrow stream, " The floods have borne away, " And thro' the foaming waves I deem, " To wade as best I may." " Now, God forbid, that thou should'st tread, " With such a priceless freight, " Barefoot the river's stony bed, " While I ride thro' in state." He placed the Priest upon his steed. Caparisoned with gold, And bade him on his errand speed, Thro' the waters dark and cold. 29 " Give me thy steed, Sir Squire," he said, Then to the Chase he rode. The Priest beside the sick man prayed, Long in his mean abode. With morn the noble steed he led, (Himself he would not ride), To where an oak its branches spread The postern gate beside. " Now, Heaven forfend," the Count began, " A steed the Host that bore, " Should e'er be used by mortal man, " For chase or battle more. " Father, I dedicate him now, " To pious use for ever, " For Him to whom my all I owe, " Who will forsake me never." " Count," said the Priest, " Thy words are true, " Heaven is a constant friend ; " Who honors God, He honors too, " Blessings his course attend. " And thou art great for deeds renowned, " Six daughters fair are thine, " Each shall with diadem be crowned, " And found a royal line." 30 With thoughtful mien the Monarch sat, Throughout the Minstrel's lay, In distant times, in distant scenes, His thoughts were far away. But when the music ceased, his mind Woke from its dreamy trance. And when he raised his downcast eyes, And caught the minstrel's glance, The chord was struck, and memories rose, Like fountains from below, He knew the Bard before him there, The Priest of long ago. And hid his falling tears beneath His mantle's purple fold, While all beheld in him the Count Of whom the talc was told. Schiller. 31 ©1(1 mXmdx ballad. o>»^o From Merida a Palmer came, Barefoot and meanly drest, Yet worth the ransom of a king Beneath he wore a vest. To Paris lay his toilsome road, And weary and footsore, He sought no hostel, but repaired Straight to the palace door. " I come to greet His Majesty, " I come from far, Sir Page ; " The page looks at him wonderingly, Strange thoughts his mind engage. " The King at Holy Mass assists, " Sir Pilgrim, at the fane, " Of Him, the holiest of Saints, " St. John the Laterane. 32 " There the Archbishop offers mass, " The Cardinal doth preach, " And happy, whom assembled there, " His Eminence doth teach." The Palmer hastened to the church, And kneels him down in prayer To God, and to his Lady prays. In meek devotion there. Then to the Church his homage pays, And to the Imperial Crown, And to the twelve, who at the board. The royal board sit down. Oliveiros and Orlandos, These he honours not. For they left their royal nephew. To a captive's weary lot, When the Moor had overthrown him. On the battle plain, And they might have rescued him. And brought him back again. Then they rushed upon the Palmer, Sword in hand they rushed, But he raised his staff, and frowning. Their fierce anger crushed. " Peace, Oliveiros," said the King, " Orlando, cease thy rage, 33 " The Pilgrim's mad, or else he boasts " A royal lineage." The Monarch took the Pilgrim's hand, " When did'st thou cross the sea ? " " Sire, in the month of May I passed, " Some Moors they captured me. " They bore me to the Infanta fair, " She gave to me her heart, " She shared her all with me, for long " I could not thence depart." " Nay, Pilgrim," said the King, " in sooth, " To such an honoured guest, " Nursed in the lap of luxur)-, " Captivity is blest." " Sire," said the Pilgrim, " Merida, " Three hundred castles strong, " And many a Moorish knight defend, " From capture and from wrong." " Thou liest, Sir Pilgrim, foully liest," " Proud Oliveiros cried, " Not ninety forts protect the place, " And not one leader tried." The Palmer raised his hand to strike — To strike the noble knight ! The Monarch ^\■ith a look severe, Prohibited the fight. F 34 " Sir Pilgrim, thou art traitor found, " Death is thy worthy fate ; " Thy crimes upon a scaffold high, " Now shalt tliou expiate ! " The Pilgrim on the scaffold stood, The Monarch stood beside : " Sir King thou dost me grievous wrong, " Woe will thy heart betide, " One only Son thou hast, and him, " Guiltless, thou doom'st to die.' The Empress from her window heard. And hastily drew nigh ; " Sir Pilgrim thou art wan and worn, " No mother might thee know, " But an thou claim'st to be my son, " Thy side I prithee show." — They stripped the rags from off his back, And on his shoulder bare. Beneath the vest of priceless worth. The mark they found it there ! Then joy pervades the multitude. And plaudits rend the sky, For France has found the long lost heir. And every heart beats high. 35 ®h^ QlUL o>i«o The coast was rugged with huge rocks, and deep the waters rolled, At the precipice's base a promontory bold ; A storm was raging out at sea — the waves as they recoiled In surf and foam from the wall below, as in a cauldron boiled. The King attended by his Court stood on the rude plateau, And gazed in horror and amaze on the seething mass below. Then turning to his knights he said, " This golden cup is his, " Who'll pierce the billow's foaming crest, and snatch it from the abyss ! " The knights looked grave, the knights looked cold, while thrice the Monarch spoke; At last the courtiers' crowded ranks a graceful stripling broke, He threw his cloak upon the ground, and with an inward prayer. He cast him from the giant rock and cut the nether air, Like bolt from Heaven he struck the wave, like shaft from bended bow, A moment in the foam he glanced, then disappeared below. The waters boiled, the waters seethed, the tempest wailing howled, And Heaven above, with omen dark, in lurid blackness scowled. 36 Breathless the mute spectators gazed, from the promontory steep, No sight was seen, no voice was heard, no message from the deep, Hut wiiat is that which like a speck upon the mountain's side, Exuding from the watcrj- waste, breasts buoyantly the tide ? 'Tis he ! though boiling surges toss, the billows bear him up, His foot is on the solid rock, he clasps the golden cup ! One look to Heaven, one glance around, the noble stripling threw. And on a maiden's cheek there came a blush of roseate hue. " Sir King," he said," " in the caverns green, where the mermaids hold their court, " And the ravening monsters of the deep to seek their prey resort; " I held my way till the cup I saw — on a coral reef it shone, " I seized it, and behold it here, thy dangerous quest is done ! " A murmur of approval rose, " Sir Youth," the Monarch said, " Brave is thy heart and strong thy hand, the cjuest is nobly sped ; " See you this ring and her who wears — you worship at her shrine — " Bring me that gem from the depths below, and maid and gem are thine ! " The >-outh his cheek a moment paled, the maid looked marble cold, A glance to Heaven, a glance to her, their secret passion told — The waters boiled, the waters seethed, the tempest wailing howled, And Heaven above, with omen dark, in lurid blackness scowled, lie plunged into the depths below, the waves above him close, They gazed for long, they gazed in vain, no more the stripling rose ! Schiller. 37 2JIte gijitigtitt. <'>*io The crowds collect, the people shout, The streets are full of rabble rout. Ye Gods ! what means this tumult dire ; Are all gone mad ? Is Rhodes on fire ? I see a knight encased in mail, A dragon at his horse's tail, With serpent fold, and looks of guile, And gaping jaws, like crocodile. What wonder that the people gaze, At knight and monster with amaze ! And hark ! a thousand tongues exclaim, " Behold the knight of peerless fame, " The slayer of the dragon bold, •' Terror of peasant, byre and fold. 38 " Many a knight went forth before, " But none in Hfc retumid more ! " All honour to the noble knight, " Who braved and won the desperate fight ! ' Thus, cis they spoke, the crowds drew nigh St. John the Baptist's Monastry, Where all the knights assembled sate. In conclave on afifairs of state. The youthful knight presents him there, Before the proud Grand Master's chair; The people crowd the galleries, With wild enthusiastic cries. But not a sound the silence breaks. When thus the noble stripling speaks : " Of Holy Church, unworthy Son. ■' My knightly duty I have done, " The Dragon, terror of the land, " Lies there the victim of my hand ! " The peasant now may reap and sow, " The traveller on his journey go, " The pilgrim visit at the shrine, " Where mercy dwells and grace divine." Then spake the Prince in accents low, " Sir Knight, thy prowess I allow ; 39 " And valour is a virtue bright, " That well becomes a belted knight, " But he who wields our Order's sword, " And bears the Cross of Christ, our Lord, " What is the first and great command, " That rules his actions, guides his hand ?" Then all were silent — but the youth, Ingenuous and full of truth. Replied, " Obedience is the test, " Of worthiness the first, the best." " Son," said the Prince, with aspect cold, " This first great law, thou'st broken bold, " Presumptuous, drawn thy falchion's blade, "When our great Order's rules forbade." With mien composed, the youth replied, " Not boldly I the law defied ; " Unwittingly I deemed that I ■' Did with its Spirit, Prince, comply, " When forth I issued, sword in hand, •' To drive a monster from the land " Five of our Order, peerless knights, " Crowned victors in a hundred fights, " Had on this fatal errand bled, " Since by thy word prohibited ; 40 " Long did my mind on vengeance brood, " And ever in my dreams I stood, " With this dread monster, face to face, " And when my waking thoughts had place, " I listened to the morning's tale " Of slaughter fresh, with visage pale, " And vengeful schemes did over ride " My every sense and thought beside. " Then in my heart the passion grew, " What ancient heroes dared to do, " Impetuous acts the cold may scan, " 'Tis youthful deeds adorn the man. " The knights of old their country cleared " Of plagues and monsters to be feared, " The lion and the minotaur, " The dragon and a thousand more. " When wrong and rapine walked the earth, " They deemed their blood but little worth. " Is now the Saracen alone, "A fitting foe for valour grown .' " Must not the servant of the Lord, " In any quarrel draw his sword, " Where human wrongs can be redrest, " To help the injured and opprest .' 41 " And then I deemed that art and guile " Must supplement my strength the while, " That skill and forethought might prevail " Where courage only well might fail. " Then sudden to my mind occurred " A thought, to thee I gave it word. " Grand Master ! to my heart has come, " A fond desire to see my home. " Most graciously, thou heard'st my tale, " I crossed the sea with flowing sail ; " Soon did I reach my native shore, " I trod its well-known haunts once more, " And art employed to fabricate, " The hideous Dragon's fitting mate. " Its aspect worked a deadly spell — " Its mouth was like the gates of Hell, " The teeth that armed its gaping jaw, " Were like the ridges of a saw ; " The tongue as sharp as rapier blade, " The eyes like forked lightning played, " And from his scaly back out rolled " A coil might man and beast enfold. " Part Dragon foul, the workman's art " Had made him, salamander part, G 42 " A creature, awful to behold, " When on the sand his length was rolled. " Two bloodhounds next, both fierce and fleet, " I taught to follow at my feet, " And hounded on their native rage " The hideous monster to engage, •'While mounted on my Arab steed, " I spurred him on to daring deed, " And fiercely charged the monster dread, " Hurling my javelin at his head. "At first my horse in terror reared, " And plunged and foamed in horror weird, " My dogs recoiled with mute afifright, " Yet still I urged them to the fight. " Thus for three months, with patient care, " I trained and exercised them there ; " And when I thought them well prepared, " Straight to the vessel I repaired — " The third day saw us disembark, " And ready for the exploit dark. " With feelings deep my heart was moved, " Of pity for the land I loved. " I found the peasants in despair, " The shepherds gone, the pastures bare. 43 " I cheered the serfs as best I might, " With prospects of the coming fight, " And mounted on my charger fleet, " The bloodhounds following at my feet, " I sought the secret hiding place, " Where lurked the terror of our race. " Master, thou know'st the humble shrine, " Built on a rock, for use divine — " There on the altar, meek and mild, " Preside the Mother and the Child, " The Pilgrim wan, who thither wends, " A hundred wcarj' steps ascends ; " But when his way-worn feet attain " The heights tliat crown the nether plain, " With holy joy and faith replete, " He kneels him at the Saviour's feet. " Beneath it is a grotto dark, " Damp and obscure with herbage rank, " Where never enters ray of sun — " There did the light the monster shun ; " There, day and night, in ambush lay, " To scour the country, seize his prey. " Thus did a fiend of hell reside, •' God's holy altar close beside, 44 " And Pilgrims to the sacred spot, " Were seized and mangled in the grot. " And first the rock I did ascend, " Then on my knees did lowly bend, " There pardon asked for all my sin, " And strength in battle field to win ; " Then girded on my trusty sword, " Mounted my horse, and gave the word. " Scarce had I reached the plain below, " When loud the bloodhounds barked, and, lo ! " My charger snorting, mad with fear, " Began to plunge and wildly rear, " For there the hideous monster lay, " Coiled like a ball upon the clay. " At the dread sight the bloodhounds gnash " Their teeth, and on the monster dash, " But swift as arrow they recoil, " In horror from the deadly broil, " When from his jaws the poisonous breath " Exhales the atmosphere of death, "And fearful bowlings pierce the air, " Like cry of jackal from his lair — " But soon I cheer them on again, " And hurl my spear with might and main ; 45 " Rebounding from its armed scales, " Harmless as reed the weapon fails. " And now my horse in wild affright, " Defies control and rears upright, " And then methought my end was nigh, " I breathed a prayer, I heaved a sigh, " As open wide and deep I saw, " The hideous monster's armed jaw. " An instant on the ground I stand, " Beside the monster, sword in hand, " But vain are all attempts t'assail, " The scaly dragon's coat of mail. " Enraged he strikes me with his tail, " And prostrate on the ground I lie, " His yawning jaws before me spy, " The gnashing of his teeth I hear, " All vain are then or sword or spear, " But haply at the moment turning, " My dogs with savage fury burning, " Dashed at his flanks, and with a cry, " The monster turned in agony. ■' Then to my feet I quickly rose, " His struggles fierce his maw expose, " Then in his heart I buried there, " With fatal stroke my weapon bare. 46 ■' In mighty stream the black blood flows, " The monster sinks in deadly throes, " Beneath his lifeless form I lie, " Exhausted there I seem to die ; "And when I wake my train sunound " The Dragon weltering on the ground. " The youth was still, his talc was told — Rivers of pent up feeling rolled Over the surging masses there ; A thousand plaudits rent the air ! Amazement, joy, and gratitude. Inspired the excited multitude ! The Brothers of the Order claim To crown the Knight with wreath of fame The people burn to do him grace, As Saviour of the human race — But cold and stern, with bearing proud. The Prince bids silence in the crowd. And thus he speaks, " Most noble youth, " Valiant art thou, my son, in truth — " The terror of this peaceful land " Has fallen a victim to thy hand — " In thee a God the people know, " To lis thou com'st a deadly foe. 47 " For in thy heart there lurks a curse " To this our Holy Order worse, " Than to this land the monster fierce, " Whom thou with fatal steel did'st pierce- " The serpent, deadliest to mankind, " The ruin of his soul and mind, " Is disobedience and self will ; " Parents of every human ill, " They reign, the ruin and the curse " Of man and of the universe ! " Valour the Mameluke may claim, " Submission is the Christian's aim, " Hence where our blessed Lord has trod, " Our Holy Order worships God, " And here to tame our rampant will, " Our highest duty we fulfil — " Thee love of fame has led astray, " Thou in our Order must not stay, " Who shuns his sacred yoke to bear, " Christ's holy Cross may never wear." Into wild tumult breaks the crowd, The hall resounds with murmurs loud, The youth alone, with downcast eye. Meekly his Order's garb lays by, 48 Salutes the Master with a sigh, And turns. But on the Master's face Stern coldness quick to love gives place. He calls him back with tearful eyes, " Embrace me, oh ! my Son," he cries, " Well hast thou fought a battle sore, " Our Order's symbol take once more, " Thy patience has redeemed thy loss, " Humility deserves the Cross!" SCHILLtR. 49 (^ridorut. oXKo« A loyal youth was Fridolin, To God and to his lady true, To do her will, her smile to win. Was all the joy on earth he knew. The lovely Countess of Taverne, Her every art and whim he knew, Each thought untold he could discern, And loved her as a page might do. The huntsman Kunigund beheld. And hate and malice filled his breast. His heart with angry passions swelled, And jealous envy marred his rest. H so Then home returning from the chase, He arms his tongue with artful guile, And schemes to give suspicion place. In the fond husband's breast the while. " How blest art thou, Sir Count," he says, " Blest in thy fair and youthful bride, " And him who such fond homage pays, " And ever wanders by her side." " What mean'st thou, knave ? " with furious rage, The Count exclaims, with flashing eyes — " Nay, Count, I speak but of the page," The wary huntsman cold replies. Furious the Count his courser spurs, Thro' devious ways, mid brakes and briars, To where a forest, dark with firs, Gleams with the smelting furnace fires. Here day and night the bellows roar. And swarthy gangs the furnace feed, Till hissing flows the molten ore, And fiery streams like lava speed. Two serfs he summons of the band — " When here there comes a man to learn. 51 " If ye have done your lord's command, " Then cast him in yon hell to burn." Now Kunigund full courteously, Accosts the page with hidden hate, " Comrade, the Count would speak with thee, "He waits thee by the postern gate." " Page," said the Count, with downcast air, " Go hie thee, seek the smelter band, " And ask the serfs assembled there, " Have they fulfilled their lord's command ? " " Thy bidding, Count, I haste to do " — So spoke the page, — but ere he went, Swift to his lady's side he flew. And there with low obeisance bent. " Lady," he said, " afield I go, " To do the bidding of my lord, " Yet ere I go, fain would I know, " If thou for me hast wish or word." Then spake the lady of Taverne In accents musically mild, " To hear a holy mass I yearn, " But dare not leave my ailing child. 52 " Go, youth, and say for me a prayer, " Kneeling before St. Hilda's shrine, " And when thy sins thou weepest there, " May I alike find grace for mine." Then, happy in his welcome task, He follows where the belfry chimes With solemn tones the sinner ask To seek forgiveness for his crimes. " Oh ! never turn thee from thy God, " Whene'er he meets thee in the way ! "— Slowly the sacred aisles he trod, And humbly knelt him down to pray. " Not lost the minutes given to prayer," He murmurs, and devoutly bends. Till mass is said, and service there With priestly benediction ends. Then forth he goes, with conscience light. Thro' rocks and woods by devious ways. To where the smelting fires burn bright. And there twelve paternosters says. And now the furnace mouth before. He sees the swarthy laborers stand, S3 And shouts above the bellows roar, " Serfs, have ye done your lord's command ? " Grim at the forked flames they gaze, Grimly they smile, the savage band, — " Our lord award us well earned praise, " Duly we've done his stern command." Swift with his message speeds the youth, The Count amazed beholds him run, And doubts the voice, nor deems it truth Which says, " Sir Count, thy bidding's done. " " Unhappy youth, whence com'st thou, say ?" — " Straight from the forge I come, my Lord." — " Say, hast thou loitered on the way, " That thus thou bring'st such tardy word." " Sir Count, my lady bade me kneel, " At Hilda's shrine in lowly prayer, " For thine and for her spirit's weal — " Duly I told my rosary there." The Count with terror viewed the lad, " What message bring'st thou from the band .' " " Sir Count, with air severe and sad, " They said, ' they'd done their Lord's command. 54 " And what of Kunigund, I pray ? " Trembling, he questioned eagerly. " Did'st thou not meet him by the way ? " I bade him haste to follow thee." " Naught saw I of him, sooth, my lord, " In pasture green or forest dun." — " Then God has judged him, by my word, " So may His holy will be done." And kindly, as was not his wont, He took the stripling by the hand. And led him to the terrace front. Where lone he saw the Countess stand. " Lady," he said, " Behold this youth, " Full foully has he been maligned ; " But God has proved his worth and truth, " Be thou to him as ever kind." Schiller. 55 Sltj; MiUI Juttt.^maii oXKo On Rhine's fair banks 'tis a festal morn, The Baron von Falsberg blows his horn. Halloo ! halloo ! to the chase it sounds, Neighing and prancing, his fleet steed bounds ; His train of attendants follow pell mell. While the pack from their kennel yelp and yell, As they dash thro' cornfield, brake and dell. The sabbath morning's sunbeam's gilt The dome for holy worship built, The bell with solemn tone invites, Hollow and clear to the sacred rites, While many a hymn of praise and prayer From many a choir is borne on air. 56 Over the crossway swift they go, With whoop ! halloo ! and tally ho ! And see you, and see you, on cither side Of the huntsman bold two horsemen ride, The steed on the right is like silver white. The steed on the left as furnace bright. Who are these horsemen to left and right ? Full well I guess, but I may not write. The knight on the right is sublimely grand, With his mild sweet face, and aspect bland, The knight on the left is malign and stern, And his eyes iike red hot charcoal burn. " Welcome ! " said he, of the evil face, " Welcome ! sir Knight, to the noble chase, " In earth or heaven can nought compare, " With sport like this, on day so fair." And as he spoke, he slapped his thigh, And jauntingly waved his cap on high. " Sir Count," said he of the gracious mien, " 111 sounds til)' hdrn on this morn serene, " Trust me no good can those betide, " Who on this holy day do ride. " Be warnctl by thy angel good — return ; " The counsels dark of the evil one spurn." 57 " To the chase, Sir Count, forth away to the chase," Said he of the dark ill-favored face, "What a chime of bells, what jocund sounds "With blast of horn and yelp of hounds, "And whoop, halloo, and hark away! — " I'll show you glorious sport to-day." " Well hast thou spoken thou left man kind, " Thou art a Hero after my mind, " He who cares nought for the noble chase, " May say paternosters and pray for grace, — " Saint on my right, thou pleadest in vain, " I hie to the hunting grounds amain." And Hurrah ! Hurrah ! on, on they speed, Up hill, down dale, over crops and mead. And ever at the Baron's side, To right and left, the two Knights ride,— When sudden with antler's branching high, A milk white stag comes bounding by. Whoop ! whoop ! halloo! the horns blow shrill, Down thro' the valley and over the hill. When, lo, from the train behind and before. One drops down, and is trampled o'er, " Leave them to die, to hell let them go, " Never knight's sport was mar-red so." I 58 The wild deer crouched in the standing wheat, Deeming it's cover a safe retreat, On came the field, huntsmen and pack, A peasant stepped forth, and waved them back, " Have pity my Lord, have pity and spare, "The poor man's hard earned pittance bare." The Knight on the rigiit then swift up-rodc, And gently urged his counsels good, But he on the left with the evil eye, Encouraged the Count maliciously, And again the right Knight's warnings fail, Again the left Knight's word's prevail. " Out of my sight, hound, out of my way " ! Hear the Count to the poor man say, " Away, away, or I'll ride thee down, " Thy corpse shall be to my bloodhounds thrown ; " Ho, ho, my men, go seize him there, " And lay your whips on his shoulders bare." He spoke, 'twas done, the Madman dashed Over hedges and gates, thro' rivers plashed. The train they run, and they ride pell niell, Huntsmen, horses and hounds as well, And with hoof and foot, they crush and pound The blades of corn on the ruined ground. 59 Herds of deer by the noise alarmed, Hie from their coverts like spirits charmed, And panting, dash with headlong speed Thro' brake and briar to a grassy mead. Where browsing herds of cattle tame, Seem refuge for the wilder game. But hither and thither thro' wood and dell, Hither and thither thro' dell and wood. Halloo ! halloo ! with yelp and yell. The hounds and huntsmen rush like a flood ; The shepherd trembling for his herd. Falls on his knees before his lord. " Mercy ! my lord, mercy, I pray ! " Call off your dogs, forbear to slay " These harmless flocks and herds this day, " See, in these inmates of the stall, " The widows and the orphans' all. " Have pity on the poor and spare " Their harmless browsing beasts to tear." Again the Knight on the right uprodCj And gently urged his counsels good, But he, on the left, with the evil eye, Encouraged the Count maliciously. 6o And again the right Knight's warnings fail, Again the left Knight's words prevail. " Out of my way, audacious hound, " Would that thy shapeless limbs were bound, " Thy sleekest, fattest beast around ; " Glad should I be to see thee driven, " With all thy lowing herd to Heav'n." " On, on, my men ! on, on, my pack ! " The hounds come following on the track. Each seizes the nearest for his prey, The hills resound with the wild affray. The herdsman welters in his gore, The browsing herd exists no more. The milk white stag eludes the fray. And through the forest takes its way, With slackened speed and drooping neck. His sleek skin bossed with crimson fleck. And plunging deep into the dell. Takes refuge in a hermit's cell. Still on the hounds and huntsman go, With crack of whip and tally-ho ! With blast of horn, and bark, and yell, The wild swarm gallop through the deli. 6i When forth to meet, with gown and hood, Behold ! the Hermit of the Wood. " Cease, cease, from this unholy chase, " Nor dare to desecrate this place, " To Heaven these slaughtered victims cry, " For wrath on those who Heaven defy, " Be warned, ye wicked men in time, " Or Heaven will punish sore your crime." Once more the Knight on the right uprode. And gently urged his counsel's good. But he on the left with the evil eye Encouraged the Count maliciously. And again the right Knight's warnings fail. Again the left Knight's words prevail. " Ruin here, or ruin there, " 'Tis naught to me, what do I care .' " Though thrice a Heaven or Hell were there. " There's not a bat that I would spare, " Displease it God, displease it thee, " Enough, thou fool, it pleaseth me ! " He cracked his whip, his horn he blew, " Onward, my comrades, brave and true ! " 62 But, ah ! both Monk and hut are gone, Horses and men alike have flown ; A stillness, as of death, succeeds The crash of hunters, hounds, and steeds. The Count looks round, and o'er and o'er, He blows his horn — it sounds no more — He shouts ! — no echoes reach his ears, — He cracks his whip ! — no noise he hears ! — He plies his horse with whip and spur. Forward nor backward will he stir ! Dark as the grave is all around, Till issuing hollow from the ground, A voice like ocean's sullen roar. Breaking upon a rocky shore. Or thunder rumbling over head, Denounces loud. Heaven's sentence dread. " Thou tyrant, demon of thy race ! " In earth, or Heaven, unworthy place ! " The voice of tortured creatures cries " For justice to the outraged skies, " Where Vengeance rears her flaming torch, " And summons to the judgment porch. 63 " Fly, monster, fly ! and know that ne'er " Shall aught arrest thy wild career " While time endures. A fatal spell " Shall see thee chased by fiends from Hell ; " Warning to Princes for all time. " Who outrage Heaven and earth by crime." And now a sulphurous atmosphere, Floats o'er the forest like a bier,— His breath is laboured — eyesight dim — Agony shoots through marrow and limb. Behind is sound of tempest's roar, The blast of horror lies before. The hurricane roars with poisonous breath. The forest is black as the jaws of death, When out of the night a colossal wrist. Looms in the air with clench-ed fist — It opens, it clutches, and see ! his face Is turned behind to the demon chase. Around are flames of every hue. Fires like a furnace,— red, green, and blue, Billows of flame, like ocean's swell. Peopled by floating broods of Hell, And a thousand curs from the depths below, Through the blazing forest howling go. 64 Mad with affright he scours the plain, Shrieking and yelling with fear and pain, Ever and ever, through the wide world, Hell bellows after him as he is whirled. By day through clefts in the mountain bare, By night on the blast of the murky air. Ever his head behind is turned. Swift or slow, as the ground is spurned, Tracked by the bloodhounds of Hell he sees, The fangs that would snap, and the jaws would seize. And anguish and terror rend his heart, As his blood-shot eyes from their sockets start. Such the Wild Huntsman's fearful chase, — A ceaseless, never-ending race, Till the dread day of judgment come — For him no rest, and for him no home ! And ever, as in the dead of night The hellish crew sweep howling by. The kindred wretch starts up with fright. At sound of the weird, unearthly cry ! Burger. 65 ilu ($lo\}t oKKo King Francis sat on his blazoned throne, attended by his Court, And dames and knights assembled there to see the royal sport. Around the amphitheatre, in ranges tier on tier, A thousand mute spectators sat, till the victims should appear — The Monarch gave the signal dread, the signal to begin The games where some a cruel death, and some should glory win. Then opened wide an iron door in the prison's under ground. And forth a stately lion stalked, and proudly gazed around — Then listless, yawning, shook himself, and idly laid him down, Right royal in his attitude, as though he bore a crown. Once more the Monarch gave the sign and from an open door, A royal tiger sudden sprang, and bounded on the floor ; Then lashed his tail and savage growled as his ancient foe he spied, And circling round the crouching beast, he laid him by his side — Again the Monarch gave the sign, again the portal yawns, And from the dark recesses spring two leopards fleet as fawns. K 66 Thirsting for blood they dash upon the tiger with their claws, Eager for fight he threatens them, with wide extended jaws. Then from the ground the king of beasts uprears his stately form, And silence in the arena reigns — a lull before the storm — But sudden from the gallery, where beauteous forms abound, A glove, of daintiest symmetry, falls fluttering to the ground. Between the royal beasts it 'lights, a gage of battle there. And a voice like music soft is heard to cleave the liquid air — " Sir Heinricli, if thy vows arc true, and for my love thou carest, ■' Go, fetch me from the wild beasts' den my gauntlet if thou darcst ! ' Then swift descends the knight and soon, the royal beasts between. To lords' and ladies' wonderment, his noble form is seen. With check unblanched, and steady hand, he raises up the glove. Then mounting to the gallery he bears it to his love — The lady smiled approval sweet, the knight he turned away, " I care not for your thanks, fair dame, nor for your favors stay ! " SCIIII.LKR. 67 ^echkrij. oXKo Rechberg was a reckless youth, Tho' knightly spurs he wore, He was a highwayman in truth. And robbed the Merchant's store. One night he ambushed in a Church, A caravan to seize. When night should leave them in the lurch. Among the forest trees. He mounted in the midnight gloom, But far he had not gone, " I've left my gloves " he said " Sir Groom, Upon the cold tombstone." 68 The youth returns pale with affright — " Your gloves the devil take. " A ghost sits on the tomb, Sir Knight, "My limbs with terror quake. " The ghost he put your gauntlets on, " With eyes of fire he gazed, "He stroked them up, and stroked them down, " My sight with fear was dazed." The knight rides back, in haste rides back, And bold confronts the ghost, The ghost succumbs to his attack, And cedes the gloves he'd lost. Then speaks the ghost in accents drear, " An the gloves thou cans't not spare, " Yet lend them me for one short year, " The nice close fitting pair." " To prove the devil's faith and truth, " The gloves to thee I'll lend, " Upon thy shrivelled paws in sooth, " They will not burst or rend." Rechberg mounts quick — and off has rode, And thro' the forest spurred, 69 Already chanticleer has crowed, When tramp of horse is heard. A knightly cavalcade rides past, In masks, a dark array, The youth draws back, his heart beats fast As on they take their way. A Squire behind the solemn train, A coal black charger led, Caparizoned with sell and rein. And trappings of the dead. Rechberg steps forth from his ambuscade, " Sir Squire, my riddle read, " Whose is this stately cavalcade ? "And whose this coal black steed."? " The steed belongs to a servant true, " Of my Lord (who rides before) " Rechberg, well known all the country through, " A year — he'll be no more." The Squire passed on— the wretched youth Addrest him to his groom ; Now take my horse, for here in truth, " Alas ! I've heard my doom. 70 " If not too weighty be this sword, " This lance and trust)- shield, " Take them in memory of thy Lord, " Rut in God's service wield." He wends him to a Convent gate, " Lord Abbot let me in, " As Servant here in low estate, " To expiate my sin." " Thou art a knight — deny it not, " Thy spurs th>' rank proclaim, " To tend our steeds shall be thy lot, " The wild, the young, to tame." Now the Lord Abbot that day year, A wild black steed did buy, Rechberg the bold, unknowing fear. The vicious beast would try. He plunged, he reared, erect he stood, The }-outh like wild beast tore. Then disappearing in the wood Was never heard of more. On the youth's grave at midnight cold, A groom is seen to alight. n From coal black steed — the stirrup hold, And gauntlets gleaming bright. Then from his grave does Rechberg rise, Beneath the cold tombstone, Mounts — dons his gloves — and flies Into the forest lone. To warn you, youths, this tale is told, To keep your gloves in sight. Nor ride the land, marauders bold, But stay at home by night. UHI..A.N1J. f-"^ 72 ^\xt (BoUIJunitlt'f) gaufjltttr. o>«o A goldsmith gazed with admiring eye, On his cases of gems and pearls, And he said to a maiden standing by, With brilliant eyes and golden curls — " Of all my jewels, so rich and rare, " Daughter thou art the most precious there." There entered a knight of noble mien — " Welcome, sweet maiden, lovely and true, " With thy golden locks and thy sparkling cen, " Welcome, Sir Goldsmith, too ! — " Now make mc a wreath that shall be thy pride, " To encircle the brow of my beautiful bride ! " The goldsmith wrought, with skill and care, A wreath that the proudest queen mit,^ht wear ; 73 And when it was done, and the maid alone, She gazed, and she whispered tremblingly, " Oh ! would it were made for me ! " How happy the bride that will wear that crown ! " That will wear it unto death, — Oh, would he but give me, that knight, for my own. " Of roses one simple wreath." Now, see, to the goldsmith's house once more, The knight his footsteps wend. With a courteous smile he enters the door, " Welcome, sweet maid, and thou, old friend ! " Now make for my lovely bride to wear, " A ring of jewels most costly and rare." So when the glittering ring was done, With diamonds and rubies set. Sweet Helen she gazed on it all alone. Till her smiles grew- sad, and her cheeks were wet. And the brilliants seemed robbing her eyes of light. As she slipt the ring on her finger slight. " Oh ! blest is the bride who shall wear this ring," She murmured tremblingly ; " Oh ! would he but give me some little thing, " To keep for his sake, how blest should I be, — L 74 " A lock of liis hair, to lie near my heart, " A treasure from which I would never part." Quickly the knight returned again, On the costly ring he gazed, " Sir Goldsmith, be sure that thy skill and thy pain, " By my lovely bride shall be praised ! — " Now, maiden, permit me to try upon thee, " The gifts for my bride — thou art lovely as she ! " 'Twas the morn of the Sabbath, the day of sweet rest, Mid the chiming of bells the knight came, Sweet Helen for church was decked out in her best, And she blushed with an innocent shame, W'hen the knight, with a smile, bowing courteously low, Placed the ring on her hand and the crown on her brow. " Now Helen, my sweetest, my bride ! " Forgive me the innocent jest ; " For thou art my love and mj- pride — " Without thee my life were unblest! " 'Twas for thee that the jewels were blended, — " For thee that the crown was intended ! " Thy lot hath been hitherto cast, " Mid the purest, the richest, the rarest. 75 " Thy future shall be as the past, " When with me thy fair fortunes thou sharest,- " And be sure, my old friend, ere we part, " Thy jewel I'll wear next my heart ! " Uhland. 7fi i^Ite ®nr;uit of Samofi. <^X«o Upon his tower, the tyrant stood, His royal guest beside, On Samos Isle around he gazed. With a countenance of pride. " Confess " he said to Egypt's King, " The Gods espouse my cause, "Throughout the land the vanquished race " Obey their Conqueror's laws." " Tyrant" the King of Egypt said, " Boast not too soon thy power, " Thy sceptre reigns triumphant now, •' But who may tell the hour " When he, whose wrath for vengeance burns " Shall hurl thee from tliy throne, " And spoil the spoiler of his crown, " And seize it for his own." n Thus, while he spoke, a messenger Came riding furiously — " My liege, thy foe is dead, the war Is ended gloriously." " See now " the Tyrant said, " O King, " My triumph is complete " — " Not so, my friend," the King replied, " While danger threats thy fleet.' And as he spoke a message came, " Thy fleet at anchor lies " With store of treasure from the East, " And many a noble prize." Lost in astonishment The King of Egypt stood, But soon his mind resumed Its philosophic mood. " Tyrant, the Cretan fleet is near, " Hark to the plashing oars, " Who speaks of triumph when " Invasion threats his shores .' " But while he spoke the news arrived, " A fatal storm has blown, " The Cretan squadron is dispersed, •' And all its galleys strewn." My Friend " the King of Egypt said, " Now -much I fear for thee. 78 " Once was I blest with every gift " A mortal could desire — " 1 had an on\y son who lived, " Tile darling of his sire, " The Gods required a sacrifice, " They took my only child ; " I paid my debt to fortune then, " And never since have smiled, " VVoulds't thou be spared a fate as hard, " Select thy richest prize, " The dearest to thine inmost heart, " The treasure of thine eyes, " And cast it into ocean's bed, "And with the gift appease, " The furies jealous hate of man, " The Gods immortal please." The Monarch's words alarmed his friend, He took a priceless gem, Meet for a Sultan's turbaned brow. Or royal diadem, He threw it to the depths below — " Ye Gods my offering take, " Nor in your anger cast mc down, " Your votary forsake." — Morn dawned upon the Tyrant's tower, A fisherman stood there — 79 " Accept " he said " Oh King, a fish, " Of excellence most rare, " Ne'er have I caught so rich a prize "In all my pilgrimage." The Tyrant took the gift with thanks, And gave it to a page, The page came running back, " My Liege, " Within the fish's maw " The Chief has found this precious gem " A diamond without flaw." Amazement filled the Tyrant's mind, He knew its form and hue. It was the gem, but yesternight Into the waves he threw — The King with consternation gazed! " My friend thy doom is sealed, " I never knew such fate as this " To mortal man revealed — " I dare no longer be thy friend, " No longer stay with thee, " Lest in one fatal destiny "We both included be." SCIIII.IER. 8o &t ClluiprI in the tiolood. '.>«o« The dark wood girts the grassy downs, Beyond, the grey hill gloomy frowns ; The withered leaf, the pattering rain, Tell us that winter comes amain. Slow sinks the sun, wrapt in a shroud Of dark, unsympathizing cloud ; And nature dumb, in twilight's gloom. Seems brooding o'er her coming doom. There where the streamlet ripples by The leafless oak that soars so high. An ancient chapel courts the gaze, Telling a tale of bygone days. 8i Where arc they fled, the goodly throng, That filled its aisles with pious song ?— Released from this world's weary prison, They with their songs to Heav'n have risen ! Hark ! what harsh cry the stillness mars,— Upon the affrighted ear it jars ! The unearthly wail, whose sound appals, Seems issuing from those ruined walls. Now shouts it praise to God on high,- Now with mad laughter fills the sky ! Then Hallelujah's shrieks profane, And then with laughter peals again. He rushes by at headlong pace. His white hair streaming from his face, — A WTetch, with eyes like meteors bright. The wandering stars of madness-night. Now thro' the wood his footsteps thread. The sear leaf rustles 'neath his tread; He stops — He listens— can it be .' — I hear him weeping bitterly. And now a melancholy light Dawns on the valley, coldly bright. The moon looks down with silvery sheen, On Autumn's last departing scene. M 82 Upward the Maniac turns his gaze, On his wan face the moonbeam plays, — Lights his pale cheek, and bitter smile, The chill wind sighing past the while. Oh, piteous sight ! his vacant eye Turns to the realms of peace on high, Where in their course the planets roll, The regions of the parted soul. What, then, oh ! Fate, has this man done, That thou hast blotted out his Sun ? — His reason from its throne hast hurled. And left him Godless in the world ? He loved — a long sad time ago— He knew not care, nor dreamt of woe ; With her he loved, those paths he trod, And in yon chapel worshipped God. They entered, and knelt down to pray, With the last sunbeam's slanting ray ; And while the shepherds played without They bent in common prayer devout. Then with a solemn voice, and low. She raised her hand, and vowed her vow, To love him with eternal truth. So Hcav'n might punish without ruth. 83 And when his heart responded true, The sunbeams glowed a warmer hue ; And from without the melody, Sounded like music from the sky. Alas ! how soon his dream of bliss, Vanished before another's kiss, — Her broken vows, the perjured bride, In cold indifference cast aside. And joy was hers, without remorse. — No sorrow marred life's flowing course, — She lived, unpunished by the God, Whose House of Prayer she perjured trod. And this is what that man has done. That Fate has blotted out his Sun, His reason from its throne has hurled. And left him Godless in the world. And hence it is, in withering scorn, He curses God, — alone, forlorn ; And like an outcast wanders round. Those ancient walls so faithless found. LtNAU. 84 m\{ S;n;a. ott>ic " What sounds of music frciglit tlic breeze, " Beyond the Castle walls, " Fain would I welcome strains like these " Within these ancient Halls" ! The Monarch spoke, " Page, bid the guard, " Give entrance to the glorious Bard " " Greetings, my Lords and Ladies fair, " I greet you from afar, " What galaxy of splendours rare, " Valour and beauty ! star on star ! " My eyes forbear the dazzling light, " Of Halls so proud and visions bright." The Minstrel struck his golden lyre. Boasting a world's renown. The Knights looked up with eyes of fire. The Ladies soft looked down. 8s The King enchanted with the strain, Bade them bring forth a golden chain. " Nay load not me with chain of gold, " Such gifts become thy Knights, " Noble by birth — in counsel bold, " First in a thousand fights. " Or give it to thy Chancellor, — " Who bears thy cares, the chain should wear. " Free as the birds my notes I pour, " Who people wood and sward ; " The song that does spontaneous flow, " Is its own rich reward ; " Yet if one favour I may ask, " Give me rich wine in golden flask." The cup is brought, the wine is drank, " Oh sweet inspiring draught, •' All honor to the noble rank, " That counts such gift as naught, " Grateful to Heav'n be thou, as I " For this thy Lordly courtesy." GoKTHK 86 (Jhi; iiijrman gai[0n. " EST EST.' o»Co Beside Bolsenor's yellow sands, Where Flanschenberg its summit rears, A solitary tombstone stands, And this the epitaph it bears : — " Propter nimium est est " Dominus meus mortuus est." — Beneath this monument, sleeps in grace A Baron of ancient Teuton race ; Capacious in courage, capacious in swallow, God grant his sins may not him follow ! Over the Alps into Italic, He rode with his Squire right cheerily, But the wine was so thin, that at every cup, He made a wry face, and his lips pursed up So he said to his Squire " Go thou before, " Every hostel and inn explore. 87 " Wherever the wines are oldest and best, " There on the lintel write the word ' est.' " So the Squire he rides and he rides before, And he stops at every tavern door, At every place, of every wine, He tastes, and stops, if he deems it fine : But where it is bad, he forbears to stay. And in quest of better he rides away. At length at that city himself he found, For it's exquisite Muscatelle renowned. No vintage in Italy rich or rare. Could with that luscious wine compare : The Squire as he drank it the beverage blest And deemed it were wronged by a single " Est." So in letters gigantic, with pencil red. He painted " Est Est " on the doorway head. The Baron he followed the signposts true, And drank the best wine all the country through, Till at last he 'lit on the Muscatelle, Which his old Cup-bearer loved so well. He came — he saw — he liked— he drank. Till dead upon the ground he sank, So the Squire and the Landlord, and waiters all. Held a post mortem within the old Hall, And a verdict found that 'twas fittest and best, To bury him near to his loved Est Est. 88 On Flanschenbergs heights by Bolsenor fair. So they dug him a grave and interred him there, And over it raised a monument bare, Without or name, or arms, or crest, Save the short inscription before exprest ; Which means, in language of modern times, As near as compatible with these rhymes — " Here lies a man who drank himself dead, " Of Muscatelle wine unpreccdent-ed." W. MULl.EK. 89 5i^ MUu^hfrau. oXKo See you that aged woman there, beneath the linden tree, Her years beyond our mortal span, toiling laboriously ! Long has she earned her bread with toil, and filled her duties sphere, And borne the burthen of her lot, the lot assigned her here. The fate of woman has been hers, sorrow and joy have done their part, In youth she loved, and wore the ring, which binds the hand and heart. Three pledges of her husband's love, three precious babes she bore. His bed of sickness tended long, till death him from her tore ; Then laid him in the grave, and placed, a stone above his head, And thro' it all her faith endured, her patience never fled. Her offspring were her earliest charge, to tend their budding youth, To bring them up in loyalt}-, in honour and in truth; The better for their wants to care, and for their means provide, She tore her from her cherished home, and from her own fireside, And there she stands alone, and old, without a tear or sigh. But a courage born of faith, and a will to do, or die. X 90 And well her fortitude ]ia.s thriv'n, her prudence and her toil, She's purchased flax, and worked it up, and burnt the midnight oil, Her whirring wheel has spun the flax into the finest thread. Wherewith the weaver linen weaves, for table and for bed, And with the sempstress' skill and craft, she's fashioned neat and fair The simple garb that in the grave, unconscious she will wear. Her shroud she treasures in her chest, possession fond and dear. It speaks a language of its own, reminding of her bier. She wears it when with solemn step, she treads the sacred sod. And wends her on the Sabbath morn, to offer prayers to God. And I, uh, when my evening comes, my eventide of life. And all its fitful joys are o'er, and all its petty strife, When in the grave this form is laid, to crumble into dust, May I be found as well prepared, as faithful to my trust. And may I love my shroud and learn, the truths it tells as well As yonder aged woman there, whose history I tell I Chamisso. 91 m\t Paid nnd tln{ guttaflir. oVOio Over a meadow a maiden was straying, In the ether above was a butterfly playing — It lit on the fair maiden's lip. — "How now," said the maid, "What impertinence this!" — " I deemed 'twas a rosebud, and thought with a kiss " From its petals sweet honey to sip."' — "This once I forgive thee," the maiden replied. " But deem not my lips are a prey, " For every butterfly on the hill side, " That haps to be passing this way ! " Chamisso. Sruc unfa Heath. o>Ko Bound to the wars behold the noble Knight, For freedom, fame, and native land to fight, He pauses but his Lady love to see, For well he deems a long farewell 'twill be — " Dim not with tears those eyes of blue, "Peace to thy heart should faith command. " For until death I'm leal and true, " To thee my love and Fatherland ! " His farewell said — he joins his faithful band, And leaves his country for a foreign land, Straight to the camp, and battle field he goes. And looks undaunted on a host of foes. " I fear not war, I fear not death, "So thou prove true my trusty brand, " For I would give my latest breath, " For my true love, and fatherland ! " 93 Behold him where the battle fiercest roars, His soul like eagle o'er the carnage soars, The field is theirs — and his the conquering band — But see him lifeless stretched upon the sand — " Now flow my life blood, fleet my breath, I've venged me with my own right hand, I've kept my vow, true unto death, " To Lady love, and Fatherland ! " Theodore Korner. 94 fflu ^iH'il ©utiuitted. 0»?0 The Devil once to the Hebrews came, His breath was smoke and his lips were flame, " One half of the world is mine," he cried, "With you your harvest will I divide." The Hebrews are wise, knowing good and ill, So they offered the lower half to the Devil, " No " said the fiend " my ambition soars, " I will have the top of your crops and stores." So the Hebrews sowed turnips in the ground, And when the time of harvest came round, The Hebrews they took the rich root crops. While the Devil put up with the turnip tops. But when next season again he came, The Devil he spoke with rage and scorn, "The lower half this time I claim," So the Hebrews they planted wheat and corn. But when again the division came, The ears of the corn to the Hebrews fell. So the Devil was left the straw to claim. And with that he heats the ovens of Hell ! Reichart. 95 3llu (^luthful (3{omra(U. oHKo I once had a Comrade faithful and true, Wherever I went he was sure to go too, He would never go out if I loitered at home, But whene'er I went forth he was certain to come, We slept in one bed, and drank from one glass, He went with me even to visit my lass. One day with my knapsack and staff I set out. But I could not leave home my companion without. As we quitted the City, the Zephyrs blew sweet, And the trees and the gardens our senses did greet : But my friend he looked grave, and shook sadly his head. As if with the vision disquiet-ed. A chorus of larks in the ether we hear. But my Comrade he frowns and stops closely his ear. The sweetest of perfumes arc borne on the gale, But my friend he grows faint and his visage is pale ; 96 riicn higher and higher I climbed the steep hill, Hut he loitered behind, as if wearj' antl ill. I stood by myself on the summit so high, The sun it was bright in the vapourless sky, On the glorious mountain's precipitate top It was needs for a moment that I should stop : But alas coming down I unwarily tread On the lifeless corpse of my comrade dead. I dug him a grave and I buried him there, And his tomb did this sad inscription bear :■ — Here lies Sir Hypocondriasis, His life was a burden — his end was bliss. Of songs, and flowers and fresh air he tlied. And a thousand (to him) like ills beside, I wish him joy and felicity, For ever and ever wherever he be, But much as I dwell on his memory here, May he never, in life, to me re-appear ! Anastasius Giu'n. 97 211^ (^b^ultr^^ Jl^uiingt. o^eic^ Upon a couch a maid lies hushed, At hour of midnight rest ; Her cheeks with crimson glow are flushed, Her eyes with sleep opprest. On a table near her set, Stands a vase of flowers. Bright as gems — fresh gathered, wet With summer's dewy showers. The chamber glows with stifling heat, The casement's closed with care ; The room distils with fragrance sweet, No breath disturbs the air. Around night's stillness reigns profound, A silence as of death, When from the flowers a whispering sound, Comes like the Zephyr's breath. O 98 And now from every blossom seems, A vap'ry mist to exhale. And shadowy forms as seen in dreams. Clad in mysterious veil. From out the bosom of the rose, A lady bright appears, Her hair, like golden streamlet flows, Studded with pearly tears. From out the monk's hood's purple crest, Set in its emerald leaves, A knight steps forth with steel-clad breast, And helmet, sword, and greaves. Upon his crest the heron's grey plume, Floats o'er his shoulders mailed. While from the lily's virgin bloom. Appears a maiden veiled. From out the turk's caps yellow lining, A negro dark is seen, A golden crescent brightly shining, Upon his turban green. From the sweet narcissus flowers, Whence the bee its honey sips. Steps a youth, and eager show'rs Kisses on the maiden's lips. 99 Dancing then in circle round, The spirits skip and sing, And the maiden sleeps profound, While their airy voices sing — " Maiden ! maiden ! from the earth, " Thou hast torn us ruthlessly, " Borne us from our place of birth, " Here to fade and die ! " In the lap of mother earth, " Happy was our lot, and gay ! " Gladsome, joyous, full of mirth, " Basking in the sun's warm ray. " Cooled by breezes soft of spring " Playing with our slender stems, " Elf-like danced we in a ring, " When the stars shone bright as gems. " Rain and dew refreshed us then, " Here we languish, pine, and die ! " Thou who placed us in this den, " Know that our revenge is nigh." — The song is hushed, the spirits bow The maiden's couch around, And in the solemn stillness now. Is heard the whispering sound. lOO The spirits breathe, the spirits blow, The flowers exhale a faint perfume ; The maiden's cheeks more brightly glow, A stifling odour fills the room. And now the morning sun peeps in, The spirits all have fled ; And there, with visage pale and thin, The lovely maid lies dead. A blossom nipt in early bloom, Her sister flowers beside, Their loved perfume has been her doom. Cut off in beauty's pride. Freilicr.vth. lOI The wine has been drunk, Of our parting the token, Adieu to our gathering, The word must be spoken. Farewell to these hills, And the home of my youth ; I must leave you, tho' dearly I love you in truth. My soul is athirst, Dear friends of my heart. Its fetters to burst, Now at last we must part. The sun in the heavens, It never is still. It moves o'er the waters, The valley, the hill. I02 The breath of the tempest, The waves of the ocean, They rest themselves never, But are always in motion. The clouds do but follow. The migrating swallow, And man in his wand'rings Thro' ever)' nation, Conforms to the laws Of the whole of creation. The birds as they pass him, Are fresh from his home, The perfumes that charm him. From his own garden come, He knew them in youth, In his own Fatherland, He planted and tended With fond lover's hand. They greet him abroad. As companions and friends, And make him a bright home. Wherever he wends. Kerner. I03 ilri; dfltild 4 ^ix\t. o>H° " Care " sat beside a murmuring stream, Her thoughts absorbed as in a dream, And with her fingers modelled there. In plastic clay, a statue fair. " Goddess of thought, what dost thou, say ? " Spoke Jove descending from above, — " I mould a human form in clay, — "Oh! give it life, almighty Jove." — " So be it ! — let it live ! — it lives ! — " But mine must the creation be, " For mine the power its being gives." — " Nay Jove, the man belongs to me. " My hand it was that fashioned it." — " But I " said Jove " that gave it life."— While thus they spoke Earth's God alit, And complicated thus the strife — I04 "Ye powers, the man is mine by birth, " He took his substance from the Earth." " Well, well " said Jove " we'll waive debate, " Here's Saturn^hc shall arbitrate." Then Saturn speaks — "The Immortals will, " This being born to good and ill, " To Jove — to Earth — and Care, to thee, A common heritage shall be. " To Jove, who gave, his soul belongs, " To Earth, his native clay must go. " Nor thee, oh Care, my juclt,niicnt wrongs, " He shall be thine his lifetime through. •' Thou Care, thy child wilt ne'er forsake, — " While here he draws his mortal breath, " With doubt and fear his heart will ache, " Till thou resign'st him loth to death." Thus Saturn spoke the eternal doom, — Care is man's guardian from the tomb, His bones to kindred Earth are given. His soul returns to God in heav'n. Herder. I05 te li^ggar aiul Iub ^Bog. o>e*i'> The Season has doffed its rough wintery robe Of darkness and mist that enveloped the globe, And has donned its soft mantle of lace ; Bright sunshine illumines the earth and the sky, And Creation enraptured unites in the cry Of praise to the Lord for the mercy and grace. Which has torn from the earth its rough wintery robe Of darkness and mist that enshrouded the globe. Charles Martel. 112 di\u (gmjirror ;inri the g^bbot. oJ*J.- A Monarcli once lived, and a good Monarch, too, — An Abbot, a jolly old monk of his cloth. And his Shepherd, the cleverer man of the two, In wit and in cunning a match for tliem both. The Emperor oft in his steel harness slept. And suffered from hunger, from heat, and from cold, While the Abbot looked pursy, and sleek and well kept, And in gait like a ponderous beer barrel rolled. The Monarch was riled at the burly Priest's mien. And one day as he rode in the sun's burning rays, At the head of his squadron, he vented his splecit On the Abbot's fat form, and luxurious ways. He greeted him rudely, with jeer, and with jest, " Thou servant of Heaven, most faithful and blest, " How fare ye ? 'Twould seem by thy looks that with thee " Long fastings and prayers and devotions agree. "3 " Vet, saving your Reverence, seems it to me, " You must suffer from vapours at times, and ennui, " They say you're the cleverest man in the land, " Can hear the grass grow, and can number the sand. " So now I will give you some work for your head, " Some nuts for your jolly sharp grinders to crack ; " Two months will I give you my riddle to read, " You must answer by then, or I give you the sack. " And first I must ask you, my Treasurer great, " When I sit on my throne in my Council of State, " (And let not the question your reason o'erwhelm) " You must tell me my value in coin of the realm. " And next I must ask you — How long would it need " To circle the globe on my gallant war steed .' " You must tell me precisely the time to a day, " To you such a question is merely child's play. " And thirdly, most noble of prelates, I swear, " The thoughts of my mind you must fully declare, " To the letter I bid you reveal them in sooth, " The' there be not in one, a scintilla of truth. " And an ye shall fail to respond to my call, " Sir Abbot, no longer you're Priest of St. Galle ; " You shall ride on a donkey throughout the whole land, " Your face to his rump, and his tail in your hand." Q 114 Then laughing the Emperor went on his way, The Abbot stood motionless, blank with dismay, No criminal ever the scaffold drew nigh, With pangs of more terrible agony. He sought Universities, two, three, and four, He consulted the faculties over and o'er. He encoimtered expenses and paid honoraires, But in vain, they all left him in hopeless despair. In his trouble and anguish, hours grew into days. And days into weeks, of misdoubt and malaise. And as it drew nearer, the hour of his doom, The light in his eyes turned to darkness and gloom. With attenuate form — with clieeks sunken and pale, He wandered alone over hill and by dale. Till one da}-, on a track with huge boulders beset, Hans Bendricks his shepherd he suddenly met. Quoth Bendricks " Sir Abbot, what ails you I pray .' "To a ghost you are shrunken, and fallen away, •' And your breathing is short, and you cough on my word, " Some trouble disturbs you, 'tis plain, my good Lord." " Alas ! my good Bendricks, alas ! 'tis too true, " The Emp'ror has given me a task I must do, "A nut which the Devil himself could not crack, " Tho' assisted by hell's every imp at his back. "5 " He bids me to tell him his value in coin, " When in Council his Lords and his Councillors join, " He exacts I should tell him how long it would need, " To circle the globe on his gallant war steed ; "The thoughts of his heart, to discover them all, " Or to cease to continue the Priest of St. Galle, " And be dragged on an ass thro' the breadth of the land, " With my face to his rump, and his tail in my hand." " Is that all ? — now take courage — Sir Priest of St. Galle, " Such questions as these I can answer them all, " Only lend me thy crozier and robes — and alone " I will kneel, in thy stead, at the Emperor's throne. " 'Tis true that of Latin I know scarce a word, " Yet I know how a snare to avoid, like a bird, " And riches are pow'rless such learning to buy, " As Dame Nature's best gift, mother wit, will supply." The Abbot he skipped like a goat with delight, And quickly Hans Bendricks with mantle was dight. And crozier and cowl and canonicals all, And despatched to the court as the Priest of St. Galle. There high on his throne in Imperial state, With crown and with sceptre the Emperor sate — " Now tell me, my Treasurer great I enjoin, " Now, tell me, precisely, my value in coin." ii6 " My Liege," said the Abbot, " Our Saviour of old, " For thirty pieces of silver was sold, " It will not be treason, your Grace will confess, " To rate you (great king tho' you be) at one less." The Monarch looked puzzled — but at length he replied, " By my faith ! you have reason, fat Monk, on your side, "Though in sooth, on my honor, Sir Priest, I admit, " I was not prepared to encounter such wit. " But now )-ou'rc to tell mc how long it will need " To circle the world on my gallant war steed ; " Not one minute too little, or much, must you say, " Is this riddle as easy, fat Abbot, I pray ?" " Sir King," said the Priest, " if you mount with the sun, " And with him his day's course, thro' the heavens will run, " Two days will behold you encircle the earth, " And belt its circumference as with a girth." " Ha ! ha ! shrewdly guessed," said the King with a smile, " With your ' ifs ' and your ' buts,' and your cunning and guile, " Sir Priest, you're a right clever fellow I own, " I would back you to find the philosopher's stone. " But now for my third (you will answer with ease), " But none of your ' ifs ' and your ' buts,' if you please, — " Now tell me the thoughts in my bosom that stir, " And prove they are false, or the forfeit incur." 117 " My Liege, that is easy — you're thinking that I " Am the Priest of St. Galle." — " That I do not deny." •' But you're wholly mistaken — I'm nothing at all, " But the shepherd and serf of the monks of St. Galle ! '' " The devil ! you are not the Priest of St. Galle ! " The Emperor cried, and seemed ready to fall ; — Then smiling, he added, "but if thou'rt not he, " My friend, rest assured, very soon thou shalt be ;" " With the mitre and crozier I thee will invest, " The Abbot shall ride on a donkey full drest ; " But I warn thee, my friend, holy lore must thou read, — "Who would harvest the grain, must first scatter the seed.' " With your favor, great Emp'ror, that never will do, ■' Both reading and writing and sums I eschew, " Of Latin I know but a sentence or so, " And what little Jack learnt not, John never can know." " Nay, that is unlucky, good Bendricks, but still, " Pray ask mc a favor, whatever you will ; " You have pleased me so much with your shrewdness and w it, " I would gladly repay you, if you will permit." " Great Monarch, I would not be rich or be great, " A boon would you grant me ; now, deign reinstate, " Once more in your favor, the Priest of St. Galle, " I should reckon such kindness the greatest of all." Ii8 " Now, bravo ! good fellow, your word I believe, " And your heart is as good as your head, I perceive ; " So be it — the Abbot his place shall retain, " And you, for reward, plain Hans Bendricks remain. ■' But no more must you tend the lean sheep of St. Gallc, " With an order of merit I will thee instal, " The Abbot shall tend thee, a time-honored guest, " Till in fuhiess of years thou inlierit thy rest ! " Burger. 119 r0. o>Ko« Grey in the purple firmament of Heaven, Rise the gigantic buildings of old Rome, On Tiber's stream a gondola is borne, Gently adown the current's rippling wave, Cushioned on curtains rich, and soft as down, A slight fair youth with flowing locks reclines. His heart now wildly beats, and now is still,— 'Tis Nero ! Not the Imperial crown he wears, Which clasps too tightly his voluptuous brow ; A wreath of roses, with celestial hue. Crowns the rich splendor of his golden locks. His eyes are fixed on Rome's far-spreading walls, - What seeks he there, with such impatient gaze ? He groans— he sighs— his bosom heaves and falls,- " What means this silence, will it ne'er begin >. "— And now a tongue of lambent flame shoots forth. And lights the darkness of the deep blue sky. I20 Now far and wide the angry flames burst out, And coil like serpents from a thousand roofs. With blood-red light the heavens are overspread, And Tiber's waves reflect the crimson glow, — Above, below, a double arch of flame Glows like a furnace in the sky and stream ; Midway the bark with measured stroke glides on, The golden cups resplendent in tlic light, The rich wine sparkling with a ruddier hue. And Nero — clothed with arbitrary power, He acts the God, as if the world were his To make and to destroy ; and his blood boils With dreams of self-assumed omnipotence. Gorged to satiety with human blood. Strife of wild beasts, and immolated slaves, He covets horror on a mightier scale To feed his pampered appetite for woe. The world's great autocrat, in wanton power, His wild distraught imagination fired, To light again the embers of his lust. With new excitement and emotion burns. While Rome consumes in suicidal flame. See now the light plays softly o'er iiis brows, The wTeath of flowers is red with crimson fire, It plays refulgent in his flashing eyes, And paints the rose upon his finger tips. 121 That tremble on the lute's vibrating strings, Till roused to fire, he strikes the grandest chords. And sings the dirge of Homer's tragic song, How Ilium fought and perished in the flame. Oft has he sung the ruin of the world ; Never till now he realised the tale When Rome lies there, enveloped in the fire. How life-like now the soft Greek lines proclaim The dying splendor of the burning world ! How now, his mind embraces all the truth Of the immortal bard's heroic strains ; He hears the anguish of unnumbered cries, — The wail of victims, till his wild tears flow, And steeped in deep emotion he sinks down, The prey alike of nature and of art. Now is the half of Rome in ashes laid, Fades the last glow and dies the latest wail. The thrilling chords are lost upon the breeze. And with them pass a thousand fleeting lives. Empress of Earth I and is it come to this, That thou, the mightiest city of the world Must perish ! that thy Emperor may feel The stirring beauties of a poet's lay ! And is it so .' that thy Imperial Lord, Decked as a woman, and with lute and song, Declaimer — actor — dancer — all in one, R I 22 Holds in his hand the destinies of earth ! 'Tis so — The morrow, in well acted rage, He brands the Nazarenes with all his crimes, " Seize them and slay ! " he cries, as if in wrath. But only that, in scenes of deadlier guilt His soul may drink more deep of tragic woe ! But now, inhuman monster ! know that thou Hast struck the knell of thine eternal doom ; Thy sceptre trembles in thy palsied hand, There lives not one, that asked, will give thee death, Yet thou shalt meet a miserable doom ! The slaughtered Nazarenes now bear the Cross ; But see, the day approaches when that Cross, Symbol of everlasting rule on earth, Shall triumph o'er the Imperial Diadem ! Salles. 123 ®lu Ulinutering Jcir. o;«