To-night I ride, with my young bride, "Come with thy choir, thou coffin'd guest, Ceas'd clang and song; down sunk the bier; Thick pants the rider's labouring breath, "O William, why this savage haste? "No room for me?"-"Enough for both;- Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode, Fled past on right and left how fast "Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear; "See there, see there! What yonder swings "Hollo! thou felon, follow here: To bridal bed we ride; & And thou shalt prance a fetter dance And hurry! hurry! clash, clash, clash! How fled what moonshine faintly show'd! "Hurrah! hurrah! well ride the dead; The bride, the bride is come! And by the pale moon's setting beam With many a shriek and cry whiz roun O'er many a tomb and tomb-stone pale Till sudden at an open grave He check'd the wond'rous course. The eyes desert the naked skull, The furious barb snorts fire and foam, And leaves her on the ground. Half seen by fits, by fits half heard, Pale spectres fleet along, Wheel round the maid in dismal dance, "E'en when the heart's with anguish cleft, Her soul is from her body reft; THE BATTLE OF SEMPACH, -Not alone he nursed the poet's flame, The circumstance of their being written by a poet returning from the well-fought field he describes, and in which his country's fortune was secured, may confer on Tchudi's verses an interest "Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear, which they are not entitled to claim from their And well the dead can ride; Does faithful Helen fear for them?" "O leave in peace the dead!" The scourge is red, the spur drops blood, poetical merit. But ballad poetry, the more literally it is translated, the more it loses its simplicity, without acquiring either grace or strength; and therefore some of the faults of the verses must be imputed to the translator's feeling it a duty to keep as closely as possible to his original. The various puns, rude attempts at pleasantry, and disproportioned episdoes, must be set down to Tchudi's account, or to the taste of his age. The military antiquary will derive some amusement from the minute particulars which the mar tial poet has recorded. The mode in which the BALLADS AND LYRICAL PIECES. Austria men-at-arms received the charge of the Swiss was by forming a phalanx, which they defended with their long lances. The gallant Winkelried, who sacrificed his own life by rushing among the spears, clasping in his arms as many as he could grasp, and thus opening a gap in these iron battalions, is celebrated in Swiss history. When fairly mingled together, the unwieldy length of their weapons, and cumbrous weight of their defensive armour, rendered the Austrian men-at-arms a very unequal match for the light-armed mountaineers. The victories obtained by the Swiss over the German chivalry, hitherto deemed as formidable on foot as on horse-back, led to important changes in the art of war. The poet describes the Austrian knights and squires as cutting the peaks from their boots ere they could act upon foot, in allusion to an inconvenient piece of foppery, often mentioned in the middle ages. Leopold III, archduke of Austria, called " The handsome man-at-arms, was slain in the battle of Sempach, with the flower of his chivalry. 'Twas when among our linden trees The bees had housed in swarms, Then look'd we down to Willisow, We knew the archduke Leopold The Austrian nobles made their vow, "On Switzer carles we'll trample now, Their onward march they make. "I rede ye, shrive you of your sins, Before you further go; A skirmish in Helvetian hills May send your souls to wo." "The Switzer priest* has ta'en the field, Together have they join'd; It was the lord of Hare castle, "Yon little band of brethren true Will meet us undismay'd." " "O Hare-castle,* thou heart of hare!" There was lacing then of helmets bright, The peaks they, hew'd from their boot-points And thus, they to each other said, The peasants are so few.” Then heart and pulse throb'd more and more And down the good confed'rates bore The Austrian lion 'gan to growl, And ball, and shaft, and cross-bow bolt Lance, pike, and halberd, mingled there, The Austrian men-at-arms stood fast, "I have a virtuous wife at home, I leave them to my country's care,- "These nobles lay their spears right thick, Yet shall my charge their order break, He rushed against the Austrian band, And with his body, breast, and hand, Still on the serried files he press'd- In the original, Haasenstein, or Hare-stone. This seems to allude to the preposterous fashion, du ring the middle ages, of wearing boots with the points or peakes turned upwards, and so long that, in some cases, they were fastened to the knees of the wearer with small chains. When they alighted to fight upon foot, it would seem that the Austrian gentlemen found it necessary to cut off these peaks, that they might move with the neces All the Swiss clergy who were able to bear arms fought sary activity. in this patriotic war. A pun on the archduke's name, Leopold, The mountain bull,* he bent his brows, So lordly would he ride, But he came against the Switzer churls, The heifer said unto the bull, "One thrust of thine outrageous horn Their anxious call the fisher heard, And while against the tide and wind The fisher's back was to them turn'd, He whelm'd the boat, and as they strove, "Now, drink ye deep, my gentle sirs, This morning have I caught, It was a messenger of wo "At Sempach, on the battle-field, Now, would you know the minstrel wight, A burgher of Lucerne. A merry man was he, I wot, The night he made the lay, Returning from the bloody spot, Where God had judged the day. A pun on the Urus, or wild bull, which gives name to the canton of Uri. THE NOBLE MORINGER: Translated from the German. THE original of these verses occurs in a collec tion of German popular songs, entitled Sammlung Deutschen Volkslieder, Berlin, 1807, published by Messrs. Busching and Von der Hagen, both, and more especially the last, distinguished for their acquaintance with the ancient popular poetry and legendary history of Germany. In the German editor's notice of the ballad, it is stated to have been extracted from a manuscript Chronicle of Nicolaus Thomann, chaplain to St. Leonard in Weisenhorn, which bears the date 1533; and the song is stated by the author to have been generally sung in the neighbourhood at that early period. Thomann, as quoted by the German editor, seems faithfully to have believed the event he narrates. He quotes tomb-stones and obituaries to prove the existence of the personages of the ballad, and discovers that there actually died on the 11th May, 1349, a lady Von Neuffen, countess of Marstetten, who was by birth of the house of Moringer. This lady he supposes to have been Moringer's daughter mentioned in the ballad. He quotes the same authority for the death of Berckhold Von Neuffen in the same year. The editors, on the whole, seem to embrace the opinion of professor Smith, of Ulm, who, from the language of the ballad, ascribes its date to the 15th century. The legend itself turns on an incident not peculiar to Germany, and which perhaps was not unlikely to happen in more instances than one, when crusaders abode long in the Holy Land, and their disconsolate dames received no tidings of their fate. A story very similar in circumstances, but without the miraculous machinery of saint Thomas, is told of one of the ancient lords of Haighhall, in Lancashire, the patrimonial inheritance of the late countess of Balcarras; and the particulars are represented on stained glass upon a window in that ancient manor-house. IV. Out spoke the noble Moringer, The trustiest shall rule my land, V. "As christian-man, I needs must keep And cease, my dearest dame, to grieve, VI. It was the noble Moringer From bed he made him bowne, And met him there his chamberlain, With ewer and with gown: He flung the mantle on his back, He dipp'd his hand in water cold, VII. "Now hear," he said, "sir Chamberlain, True vassal art thou mine, And such the trust that I repose In that proved worth of thine, For seven years shalt thou rule my towers, VIII. The chamberlain was blunt and true, The noble baron turn'd him round, His gallant esquire stood him nigh X. "To watch and ward my castle strong, To lead my vassal band; Marstetten's heir was kind and true, "Thy tower another banner knows, And stoop them to another's will And she, the lady of thy love, So faithful once and fair, This night, within thy father's hall, It is the noble Moringer Starts up and tears his beard, "Oh would that I had ne'er been born! What tidings have I heard! To lose my lordship and my lands But, God! that e'er a squire untrue XVII. "O good saint Thomas, hear," he pray'd, "My patron saint art thou, A traitor robs me of my land Even while I pay my vow! My wife he brings to infamy That was so pure of name, And I am far in foreign land, And must endure the shame." XVIII. It was the good saint Thomas, then, The Moringer he started up "I know my father's ancient towers, He leant upon his pilgrim staff, Did a new bridegroom choose; XXII. "Of him I held the little mill Which wins me living free, God rest the baron in his grave, He still was kind to me; And when saint Martin's tide comes round, And millers take their toll, The priest that prays for Moringer It was the noble Moringer And stood before the bolted gate "Now help me, every saint in heaven, To gain the entrance of my hall His very knock it sounded sad, His call was sad and slow, For heart and head, and voice and hand, And to the warder thus he spoke: "I've wander'd many a weary step, 1 pray, for sweet saint Thomas' sake, It was the stalwart warder then "A pilgrim worn and travel-toil'd Stands at the castle door; And prays, for sweet saint Thomas' sake, For harbour and for dole, And for the sake of Moringer, The lady's gentle heart was moved, To banquet and to bed: And since he names my husband's name, These towers shall be his harbourage XXIX. Then up the hall paced Moringer, None seem'd their lord to know; Now spent was day, and feasting o'er, The time was nigh when new-made brides "Our castle's wont," a brides-man said, "Hath been both firm and long, No guest to harbour in our halls" XXXI. Then spoke the youthful bridegroom there, "My merry minstrel folks," quoth he, And well his guerdon will I pay "Chill flows the lay of frozen age," And by my side as fair a bride, "But time traced furrows on my face, For locks of brown, and cheeks of youth, Once rich, but now a palmer poor, And mingle with your bridal mirth XXXIV. It was the noble lady there And bear it to the palmer poor |