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 mv pilgrim-stave ;

Downward, and ever farther,

And ever the brook beside; And ever fresher murmured,

And ever clearer, the tide.

Is this the way I was 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;

'T is 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.

She has two eyes, so soft and brown,

Take care!

She gives a side-glance and looks down,

And she has hair of a golden hue,

Take care!

And what she says, it is not true,

Beware! Beware!

Trust her not,

She is fooling thee!

She has a bosom as white as snow,

Take care!

She knows how much it is best to show,

Beware!

Beware!

Trust her not,

She is fooling thee!

She gives thee a garland woven fair,

Take care!

It is a fool's-cap for thee to wear,

SONG OF THE BELL.

FROM THE GERMAN.

BELL! thou soundest merrily,

When the bridal party

To the church doth hie!

Bell! thou soundest solemnly,

When, on Sabbath morning,

Fields deserted lie!

Bell! thou soundest merrily;

Tellest thou at evening,

Bed-time draweth nigh!

Bell! thou soundest mournfully

Tellest thou the bitter

Parting hath gone by!