"And wilt thou, little bird, go with us? With merry companions all." "I need not and seek not company, "High over the sails, high over the mast, When thy merry companions are still, at last, 66 Who neither may rest, nor listen may, I dart away, in the bright blue day, "Thus do I sing my weary song, Wherever the four winds blow; THE CHILD ASLEEP. FROM THE FRENCH. SWEET babe! true portrait of thy father's face, Upon that tender eye, my little friend, Soft sleep shall come, that cometh not to me! His arms fall down; sleep sits upon his brow; Would you not say he slept on Death's cold arm? Awake, my boy!--I tremble with affright! Awake, and chase this fatal thought!-Unclose Sweet error!-he but slept,-I breathe again; THE GRAVE. FROM THE ANGLO-SAXON. FOR thee was a house built For thee was a mould meant How long it shall be. Thy house is not Dwell full cold, Dimly and dark. Doorless is that house, And worms shall divide thee. Thus thou art laid, Who will come to thee, Who will ever see How that house pleaseth thee; Who will ever open The door for thee And descend after thee, For soon thou art loathsome And hateful to see. KING CHRISTIAN. A NATIONAL SONG OF DENMARK.-FROM THE DANISH OF JOHANNES EVALD. KING CHRISTIAN stood by the lofty mast In mist and smoke; His sword was hammering so fast, "Fly!" shouted they, "fly, he who can! Nils Juel 27 gave heed to the tempest's roar; He hoisted his blood-red flag once more, And shouted loud, through the tempest's roar, "Now is the hour!" "Fly!" shouted they, "for shelter fly! North Sea a glimpse of Wessel rent Thy murky sky! Then champions to thine arms were sent ; From Denmark, thunders Tordenskiol', And fly Path of the Dane to fame and might! Receive thy friend, who, scorning flight, And amid pleasures and alarms, THE HAPPIEST LAND. THERE sat one day in quiet, By an alehouse on the Rhine, The landlord's daughter filled their cups, Then sat they all so calm and still, But, when the maid departed, And cried, all hot and flushed with wine, 66 "The greatest kingdom upon earth And the nut-brown maidens there." Than that Swabian land of thine! "The goodliest land on all this earth, It is the Saxon land! There have I as many maidens As fingers on this hand!" "Hold your tongues! both Swabian and Saxon!" A bold Bohemian cries; "If there's a heaven upon this earth, In Bohemia it lies. "There the tailor blows the flute, And the cobbler blows the horn, And the miner blows the bugle, And then the landlord's daughter THE WAVE. FROM THE GERMAN OF TIEDGE. "WHITHER, thou turbid wave? "I am the Wave of Life, THE DEAD. FROM THE GERMAN OF KLOPSTOCK. How they so softly rest, All, all the holy dead, Unto whose dwelling-place Now doth my soul draw near! How they so softly rest, And they no longer weep, And by the cypresses Until the Angel Calls them, they slumber! WHITHER? FROM THE GERMAN OF MÜLLER. And ever the brook beside; What do I say of a murmur? That can no murmur be; 'Tis 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! |