Sweet error !-he but slept,-I breathe again; Come, gentle dreams, the hour of sleep beguile! Oh! when shall he, for whom I sigh in vain, Beside me watch to see thy waking smile? THE GRAVE. FROM THE ANGLO-SAXON. FOR thee was a house built For thee was a mould meant But it is not made ready, Nor is it seen How long it shall be. Now I bring thee Where thou shalt be; Now I shall measure thee, And the mould afterwards. Thy house is not The side-ways unhigh. The roof is built Thy breast full nigh, So thou shalt in mould Dwell full cold, Dimly and dark. Doorless is that house, And dark it is within ; And Death hath the key. And grim within to dwell. There thou shalt dwell, And worms shall divide thee. Thus thou art laid, And leavest thy friends; Thou hast no friend, 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 His sword was hammering so fast, Through Gothic helm and brain it passed; "Fly!" shouted they, "fly, he who can ! The stroke?" Nils Juel gave heed to the tempest's roar, Now is the hour! He hoisted his blood-red flag once more, And smote upon the foe full sore, And shouted loud, through the tempest's roar, "Now is the hour!" "Fly!" shouted they, "for shelter fly! Of Denmark's Juel who can defy The power?" North Sea! a glimpse of Wessel rent Thy murky sky! Then champions to thine arms were sent ; Terror and Death glared where he went; From the waves was heard a wail, that rent Thy murky sky! From Denmark, thunders Tordenskiol', Let each to Heaven commend his soul, Path of the Dane to fame and might! Receive thy friend, who, scorning flight, And amid pleasures and alarms, And war and victory, be thine arms THE HAPPIEST LAND. FRAGMENT OF A MODERN BALLAD. FROM THE GERMAN. THERE sat one day in quiet, The landlord's daughter filled their cups, Around the rustic board; Then sat they all so calm and still, But when the maid departed, And cried, all hot and flushed with wine, 66 Long live the Swabian land! The greatest kingdom upon earth "Ha!" cried a Saxon, laughing, And dashed his beard with wine; "I had rather live in Lapland, Than that Swabian land of thine ! The goodliest land on all this earth, 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! |