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She struck where the white and fleecy waves
Looked soft as carded wool,
Like the horns of an angry bull.
Her rattling shrouds, all sheathed in ice,
With the masts went by the board ; Like a vessel of glass, she stove and sank,
Ho! ho! the breakers roared !
At daybreak, on the bleak sea-beach,
A fisherman stood aghast,
Lashed close to a drifting mast.
The salt sea was frozen on her breast,
The salt tears in her eyes ; And he saw her hair, like the brown sea-weed,
On the billows fall and rise.
Such was the wreck of the Hesperus,
In the midnight and the snow ! Christ save us all from a death like this,
On the reef of Norman's Woe !
THE LUCK OF EDENHALL
FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND.
Of Edenhall, the youthful Lord
The butler hears the words with pain,
Then said the Lord; “This glass to praise,
Then speaks the Lord, and waves it light,
“'Twas right a goblet the Fate should be
“For its keeper takes a race of might,
The fragile goblet of crystal tall ;
As the goblet ringing flies apart,
In storms the foe, with fire and sword;
On the morrow the butler gropes alone,
". The stone wall,” saith he, “doth fall aside,
The tradition upon which this ballad is founded, and the "shards of the Luck of Edenhall,” still exist in England. The goblet is in the possession of Sir Christopher Musgrave, Bart., of Eden Hall, Cumberland ; and is not so entirely shattered as the ballad leaves it.]
SIR OLUF he rideth over the plain,
Full seven miles broad and seven miles wide, But never, ah never can meet with the man
A tilt with him dare ride.
He saw under the hill-side
A Knight full well equipped ;
He was riding at full speed.
He wore upon his spurs
Twelve little golden birds ;
And there sat all the birds and sang.
He wore upon his mail
Twelve little golden wheels;
And round and round the wheels they flew.
He wore before his breast
A lance that was poised in rest ;
It made Sir Oluf's heart to groan.
He wore upon his helm
A wreath of ruddy gold ;
The youngest was fair to behold.
Sir Oluf questioned the Knight eftsoon
If he were come from heaven down ; “Art thou Christ of Heaven," quoth he,
“So will I yield me unto thee.”
“I am not Christ the Great,
Thou shalt not yield thee yet ; I am an Unknown Knight,
Three modest Maidens have me bedight.”
“Art thou a Knight elected,
And have three Maidens thee bedight; So shalt thou ride a tilt this day,
For all the Maidens' honor ! "