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And then the landlord's daughter
Up to heaven raised her hand,

And said, "Ye may no more contend, —
There lies the happiest land!"

THE WAVE.

FROM THE GERMAN OF TIEDGE.

"whither, thou turbid wave? Whither, with so much haste, As if a thief wert thou?"

"I am the Wave of Life, Stained with my margin's dust; From the struggle and the strife Of the narrow stream I fly To the Sea's immensity, To wash from me the slime Of the muddy banks of Time."

THE DEAD.

FROM TOE GERMAN OF STOCKMANN.

How they so softly rest,
All they the holy ones,
Unto whose dwelling-place
Now doth my soul draw near!
How they so softly rest,
All in their silent graves,
Deep to corruption
Slowly down-sinking!

And they no longer weep,
Here, where complaint is still!
And they no longer feel,
Here, where all gladness flies!
And, by the cypresses
Softly o'ershadowed,
Until the Angel
Calls them, they slumber!

THE BIRD AND THE SHIP.

FROM THE GERMAN OF MULLER.

The rivers rush into the sea, By castle and town they go; The winds behind them merrily Their noisy trumpets blow.

"The clouds are passing far and high, We little birds in them play;

And everything, that can sing and fly, Goes with us, and far away.

"I greet thee, bonny boat! Whither, or whence, With thv fluttering golden band?" — "I greet thee, little bird! To the wide

sea

I haste from the narrow land.

'' Full and swollen is every sail;

I see no longer a hill, I have trusted all to the sounding gale,

And it will not let me stand still.

"And wilt thou, little bird, go with us? Thou mayest stand on the mainmast tall,

For full to sinking is my house
With merry companions all." —

"I need not and seek not company,
Bonny boat, I can sing all alone;

For the mainmast tall too heavy am I, Bonny boat, I have wings of my ow n.

"High over the sails, high over the mast,

Who shall gainsay these joys? When thy merry companions are still, at last,

Thou shalt hear the sound of my voice.

"Who neither may rest, nor listen may,

God bless them every one!
I dart away, in the bright blue day,

And the golden fields of the sun.

"Thus do I sing my weary song,
Wherever the four winds blow;

And this same song, my whole life long,
Neither Poet nor Printer may know."

WHITHER?

FROM THE GERMAN OF MULLER.

I Heard a brooklet gushing
From its rocky fountain near,

Down into the valley rushing,
So fresh and wondrous clear.

I know not what came o'er me,
Nor who the counsel gave;

But I must hasten downward,
All with my pilgrim-stave;

Downward, and ever farther,
And ever the brook beside;

And ever fresher murmured,
And ever clearer, the tide.

Is this the way I was going 1

Whither, O brooklet, say!
Thou hast, with thy soft murmur,

Murmured my senses away.

"What do I say of a murmur?

That can no murmur be; 'T is the water-nymphs, that are singing

Their roundelays under me.

Let them sing, my friend, let them murmur,

And wander merrily near; The wheels of a mill are going

In every brooklet clear.

BEWARE!

FROM THE GERMAN.

I KNOW a maiden fair to see,

Take care!
She can both false and friendly be,

Beware! Beware!

Trust her not, She is fooling thee!

She has two eyes, so soft and brown,

Take care! She gives a side-glance and looks down,

Beware! Beware!

Trust her not, She is fooling thee!

And she has hair of a golden hue,

Take care!
And what she says, it is not true,

Beware! Beware!

Trust her not, She is fooling thee!

She has a bosom as white as snow,

Take care! She knows how much it is best to show,

Beware! Beware!

Trust her not, She is fooling thee!

She gives thee a garland woven fair,

Take care!
It is a fool's-cap for thee to wear,

Beware! Beware!

Trust her not, She is fooling thee!

SONG OF THE BELL.

FROM THE GERMAN.

Bell! thou soundest merrily,
When the bridal party

To the church doth hie!
Bell! thou soundest solemnly,
When, on Sabbath morning,

Fields deserted lie!

Bell! thou soundest merrily;
Tellest thou at evening,

Bed-time draweth nigh!
Bell! thou soundest mournfully,
Tellest thou the bitter

Parting hath gone by!

Say! how canst thou mourn?
How canst thou rejoice e

Thou art but metal dull!
And yet all our sorrowings,
And all our rejoicings,

Thou dost feel them all!

God hath wonders many,
Which we cannot fathom,

Placed within thy form!
When the heart is sinking,
Thou alone canst raise it,

Trembling in the storm!

THE CASTLE BY THE SEA.

FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND.

"Hast thou seen that lordly castle,

That Castle by the Sea? Golden and red above it

The clouds float gorgeously.

"And fain it would stoop downward To the mirrored wave below;

And fain it would soar upward
In the evening's crimson glow."

"Well have I seen that castle,

That Castle by the Sea,
And the moon above it standing,

And the mist rise solemnly."

"The winds and the waves of ocean, Had they a merry chime?

Didst thou hear, from those lofty chambers,

The harp and the minstrel's rhyme?"

"The winds and the waves of ocean,

They rested quietly, But I heard on the gale a sound of wail,

And tears came to mine eye."

"And sawest thou on the turrets The King and his royal bride?

And the wave of their crimson mantles? And the golden crown of pride!

"Led they not forth, in rapture,

A beauteous maiden there? Resplendent as the morning sun,

Beaming with golden hair'!"

"Well saw I the ancient parents, Without the crown of pride;

They were moving slow, in weeds of woe, No maiden was by their side!"

THE BLACK KNIGHT.

FUOM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND.

'T Was Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness, When woods and fields put off all sadness.

Thus began the King and spake: "So from the halls Of ancient Hof burg's walls,

A luxuriant Spring shall break."

Drums and trumpets echo loudly,
Wave the crimson banners proudly,

From baleony the King looked on;
In the Jilay of spears,
Fell all the cavaliers,

Before the monarch's stalwart son.

To the barrier of the fight
Rode at last a sable Knight.

"Sir Knight! your name and scutch-
eon, say!"
"Should I speak it here,
Ye would stand aghast with fear;

I am a Prince of mighty sway!"

When he rode into the lists, The arch of heaven grew black with mists,

And the castle 'gan to rock;

At the first blow,
Fell the youth from saddle-bow,
Hardly rises from the shock.

Pipe and viol call the dances,
Torch - light through the high halls
glances;

Waves a mighty shadow in;
With manner bland
Doth ask the maiden's hand,

Doth with her the dance begin.

Danced in sable iron sark,
Danced a measure weird and dark,

Coldly clasped her limbs around;
From breast and hair
Down fall from her the fair

Flowerets, faded, to the ground.

To the sumptuous banquet came
Every Knight and every Dame;

'Twixt son and daughter all dis-
traught,
With mournful mind
The ancient King reclined,

Gazed at them in silent thought.

Tale the children both did look,
But the guest a beaker took:

"Golden wine will make you whole!" The children drank, Gave many a courteous thank:

"O, that draught was very cool!"

Each the father's breast embraces,
Son and daughter ; and their faces

Colorless grow utterly;
Whichever way

Looks the fear-struck father gray,
He beholds his children die.

"Woe ! the blessed children both
Takest thou in the joy of youth;

Take me, too, the joyless father!"
Spake the grim Guest,
From his hollow, cavernous breast:

"Roses in the spring I gather!"

SONG OF THE SILENT LAND.

FROM THE GERMAN OF SAMS.

Into the Silent Land!

Ah ! who shall lead us thither?

Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather,

And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand.

Who leads us with a gentle hand
Thither, 0 thither,
Into the Silent Land 1

Into the Silent Land!
To you, ye boundless regions
Of all "perfection! Tender morning-
visions

Of beauteous souls! The Future's pledge

and band!
Who in Life's battle firm doth stand,
Shall bear Hope's tender blossoms
Into the Silent Land!

O Land! O Land!
For all the broken-hearted
The mildest herald by our fate allotted,
Beckons, and with inverted torch doth
stand

To lead us with a gentle hand
To the land of the great Departed,
Into the Silent Land!

L'ENVOI.

Ye voices, that arose

After the Evening's close,

And whispered to my restless heart repose I

Go, breathe it in the ear

Of all who doubt and fear,

And say to them, "Be of good cheer!"

Ye sounds, so low and calm,

That in the groves of balm

Seemed to me like an angel's psalm!

Go, mingle yet once more

With the perpetual roar

Of the pine forest, dark and hoar!

Tongues of the dead, not lost,
But speaking from death's frost,
Like fiery tongues at Pentecost!

Glimmer, as funeral lamps,
Amid the chills and damps
Of the vast plain where Death encamps!

BALLADS

AND OTHER POEMS.

THE SKELETON IN ARMOR.

"speak ! speak ! thou fearful guest!
Who, with thy hollow breast
Still in rude armor drest,

Comest to daunt me!
Wrapt not in Eastern balms,
But with thy fleshless palms
Stretched, as if asking alms,

Why dost thou haunt me?"

Then, from those cavernous eyes
Pale flashes seemed to rise,
As when the Northern skies

Gleam in December;
And, like the water's flow
Under December's snow,
Came a dull voice of woe

From the heart's chamber.

"I was a Viking old!

My deeds, though manifold,

No Skald in song has told,

No Saga taught thee!
Take heed, that in thy verse
Thou dost the tale rehearse,
Else dread a dead man's curse;

For this I sought thee.

"Far in the Northern Land, By the wild Baltic's strand, I, with my childish hand,

Tamed the gerfalcon; And, with my skates fast-bound, Skimmed the half-frozen Sound, That the poor whimpering hound

Trembled to walk on.

"Oft to his frozen lair
Tracked I the grisly bear,
While from my path the hare
Fled like a shadow;

Oft through the forest dark
Followed the were-wolt"a bark,
Until the soaring lark
Sang from the meadow.

"But when I older grew,
Joining a corsair's crew,
O'er the dark sea I new

With the marauders. Wild was the life we led; Many the souls that sped, Many the hearts that bled,

By our stern orders.

"Many a wassail-bout
Wore the long Winter out;
Often our midnight shout

Set the cocks crowing,
As we the Berserk's tale
Measured in cups of ale,
Draining the oaken pail,

Filled to o'erflowiug.

"Once as I told in glee
Tales of the stormy sea,
Soft eyes did gaze on me,

Burning yet tender;
And as the white stars shine
On the dark Norway pine,
On that dark heart of mine

Fell their soft splendor.

"I wooed the blue-eyed maid,
Yielding, yet half afraid,
And in the forest's shade

Our vows were plighted.
Under its loosened vest
Fluttered her little breast,
Like birds within their nest

By the hawk frighted.

"Bright in her father's hall
Shields gleamed upon the wall,
Loud sang the minstrels all,

Chanting his glory;
When of old Hildebrand
I asked his daughter's hand,
Mute did the minstrels stand

To hear my story.

'' While the brown ale he quaffed, Loud then the champion laughed, And as the wind-gusts waft

The sea-foam brightly,
So the loud laugh of scorn,
Out of those lips unshorn,
From the deep drinking-horn

Blew the foam lightly.

"She was a Prince's child,

I but a Viking wild,

And though she blushed and smiled,

I was discarded!
Should not the dove so white
Follow the sea-mew's flight,
Why did they leave that night

Her nest unguarded?

"Scarce had I put to sea,
Bearing the maid with me,
Fairest of all was she

Among the Norsemen!
When on the white sea-strand,
Waving his armed hand,
Saw we old Hildebrand,

With twenty horsemen.

"Then launched they to the blast, Bent like a reed eocli mast, Yet we were gaining fast,

When the wind failed us; And with a sudden flaw Came round the gusty Skaw, So that our foe we saw

Laugh as he hailed us.

"And as to catch the gale
Round veered the napping sail,
Death ! was the helmsman's hail,

Death without quarter!
Mid-ships with iron keel
Struck we her ribs of steel;
Down her black hulk did reel

Through the black water!

"As with his wings aslant,
Sails the fierce cormorant,
Seeking some rocky haunt,

With his prey laden,
So toward the open main,
Beating to sea again,
Through the wild hurricane,

Bore I the maiden.

"Three weeks we westward bore, And when the storm was o'er, Cloud-like we saw the shore

Stretching to leeward; There for my lady's bower Built I the lofty tower, Which, to this very hour,

Stands looking seaward.

"There lived we many years;
Time dried the maiden's tears;
She had forgot her fears,
She was a mother;

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