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THE HAPPIEST LAND.
FROM THE GERMAN.

THERE sat one day in quiet,

By an alehouse on the Rhine, Four hale and hearty fellows, And drank the precious wine.

The landlord's daughter filled their cups
Around the rustic board;

Then sat they all so calm and still,
And spake not one rude word.

But, when the maid departed,

A Swabian raised his hand, And cried, all hot and flushed with wine, "Long live the Swabian land!

"The greatest kingdom upon earth Cannot with that compare ; With all the stout and hardy men And the nut-brown maidens there." "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, 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,

Over mountain gorge and bourn.”.

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 THE 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 MÜLLER. "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 thy 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.

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"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 own. "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 MÜLLER. 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 Lwas going?

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;

'Tis the water-nymphs, that are singing Their roundelays under me.

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Bell! thou soundest merrily;
Tellest thou at evening,
Bedtime draweth nigh!
Bell! thou soundest mournfully,
Tellest thou the bitter
Parting hath gone by!

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

FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND.

'TWAS Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness, When woods and fields put off all sad

ness.

Thus began the King and spake : "So from the halls

Of ancient Hofburg's walls,

A luxuriant Spring shall break." Drums and trumpets echo loudly, Wave the crimson banners proudly, From balcony the King looked on; In the play 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. Pale 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!"

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"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-wolf's 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 flew

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;

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