WALTER VON DER VOGELWEID. [WALTER VON DER VOGELWEID, or BIRD-MEADOW, was one of the principal Minnesingers of the thirteenth century. He triumphed over Heinrich von Ofterdingen in that poetic contest at Wartburg Castle, known in literary history as the War of Wartburg.] VOGELWEID the Minnesinger, When he left this world of ours, Laid his body in the cloister, Under Würtzburg's minster towers. And he gave the monks his treasures, Gave them all with this behest: They should feed the birds at noontide Daily on his place of rest; Saying, "From these wandering minstrels I have learned the art of song; Let me now repay the lessons They have taught so well and long." On the lintel of each door, Murmured, "Why this waste of food? Be it changed to loaves henceforward For our fasting brotherhood." Then in vain o'er tower and turret, From the walls and woodland nests, When the minster bell rang noontide, Gathered the unwelcome guests. Then in vain, with cries discordant, DRINKING SONG. INSCRIPTION FOR AN ANTIQUE PITCHER. COME, old friend! sit down and listen! Led by his inebriate Satyrs; And possessing youth eternal. Round about him, fair Bacchantes, Bearing cymbals, flutes, and thyrses, Wild from Naxian groves, or Zante's Vineyards sing delirious verses. Thus he won, through all the nations, Bloodless victories, and the farmer Bore, as trophies and oblations, Vines for banners, ploughs for armour. Judged by no o'erzealous rigour, Much this mystic throng expresses: Bacchus was the type of vigour, And Silenus of excesses. These are ancient ethnic revels, Of a faith long since forsaken; Now the Satyrs, changed to devils, Frighten mortals wine o'ertaken. Now to rivulets from the mountains Point the rods of fortune-tellers; Youth perpetual dwells in fountains,Not in flasks, and casks and cellars. Claudius, though he sang of flagons And huge tankards filled with Rhenish, From that fiery blood of dragons Light upon Lucullus' tables. Come, old friend, sit down and listen! THE ARROW AND THE SONG. It fell to earth, I knew not where; THE OLD CLOCK ON THE [L'éternité est une pendule, dont le balancier dit et redit sans cesse ces deux mots seulement, dans le silence des tombeaux: "Toujours! jamais! Jamais! toujours!"-JACQUES BRIDAINE.] SOMEWHAT back from the village street Stands the old-fashioned country-seat, Across its antique portico Tall poplar-trees their shadows throw, Distinct as a passing footstep's fall, Through every swift vicissitude O precious hours! O golden prime, "Forever-never! Never-forever!" From that chamber, clothed in white, The bride came forth on her wedding night; There, in that silent room below, "Forever-never! Never-forever!" Where all parting, pain, and care, Sayeth this incessantly, Forever-never! Never-forever!" AUTUMN. SONNETS. THOU Comest, Autumn, heralded by the rain, With banners, by great gales incessant fanned, Brighter than brightest silks of Samarcand, And stately oxen harnessed to thy wain! Thou standest, like imperial Charlemagne,* Upon thy bridge of gold; thy royal hand Outstretched with benedictions o'er the land, Blessing the farms through all thy vast domain. Thy shield is the red harvest moon, suspended So long beneath the heaven's o'erhanging eaves; Thy steps are by the farmer's prayers attended; Like flames upon an altar shine the sheaves; And, following thee, in thy ovation splendid, Thine almoner, the wind, scatters the golden leaves ! DANTE. TUSCAN, that wanderest through the realms of gloom, * Charlemagne may be called by pre-eminence the monarch of farmers. According to the German tradition, in seasons of great abundance his spirit crosses the Rhine on a golden bridge at Bingen, and blesses the corn-fields and the vineyards. During his lifetime, he did not disdain, says Montesquieu, to sell the eggs from the farmyards of his domains, and the superfluous vegetables of his gardens; while he distributed among his people the wealth of the Lombards, and the immense treasures of the Huns." 66 With thoughtful pace, and sad majestic eyes, Stern thoughts and awful from thy soul arise, Like Farinata from his fiery tomb, Thy sacred song is like the trump of doom; Yet in thy heart what human sympathies, What soft compassion glows, as in the skies The tender stars their clouded lamps relume! Methinks I see thee stand, with pallid cheeks, By Fra Hilario in his diocese, As up the convent-walls, in golden streaks, The ascending sunbeams mark the day's decrease; And, as he asks what there the stranger seeks, Thy voice along the cloister whispers, Peace!" THE EVENING STAR. Lo! in the painted oriel of the West, Whose panes the sunken sun incarnadines Like a fair lady at her casement, shines The Evening Star, the star of love and rest! And then anon she doth herself divest Of all her radiant garments, and reclines Behind the sombre screen of yonder pines, With slumber and soft dreams of love oppressed. O my beloved, my sweet Hesperus! My morning and my evening star of love! My best and gentlest lady! even thus, As that fair planet in the sky above, Dost thou retire unto thy rest at night, And from thy darkened window fades the light. EVANGELINE. A TALE OF ACADIE. PREFATORY NOTE. [THE story of " EVANGELINE" is founded on a painful occurrence which took place in the early period of British colonization in the northern part of America. In the year 1713, Acadia, or, as it is now named, Nova Scotia, was ceded to Great Britain by the French. The wishes of the inhabitants seem to have been little consulted in the change, and they with great difficulty were induced to take the oaths of allegiance to the British Government. Some time after this, war having again broken out between the French and British in Canada, the Acadians were accused of having assisted the French, from whom they were descended, and connected by many ties of friendship, with provisions and ammunition, at the siege of Beau Séjour. Whether the accusation was founded on fact or not, has not been satisfactorily ascertained; the result, however, was most disastrous to the primitive, simple-minded Acadians. The British Government ordered them to be removed from their homes, and dispersed throughout the other colonies, at a distance from their much-loved land. This resolution was not communicated to the inhabitants till measures had been matured to carry it into immediate effect; when the Governor of the colony, having issued a summons calling the whole people to a meeting, informed them that their lands, tenements, and cattle of all kinds were forfeited to the British crown, that he had orders to remove them in vessels to distant colonies, and they must remain in custody till their embarkation. The poem is descriptive of the fate of some of the persons involved in these calamitous proceedings.] THIS is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks, This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and is patient, PART THE FIRST. I. IN the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas, Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward, Mingled their sound with the whirr of the wheels and the songs of the maidens. Paused in their play to kiss the hand he extended to bless them. Reverend walked he among them; and up rose matrons and maidens, Then came the labourers home from the field, and serenely the sun sank Somewhat apart from the village, and nearer the Basin of Minas, Black were her eyes as the berry that grows on the thorn by the way-side, |