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To the barrier of the fight
Rode at last a sable Knight.

“Sir Knight! your name and scutcheon, 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 distraught, 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.

6. 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 !”

SONG OF THE SILENT LAND.

FROM THE GERMAN OF SALIS.

INTO the Silent Land !

Ah! who shall lead us thither?
Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather,
And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand.
Who leads us with a gentle hand
Thither, O thither,
Into the Silent Land ?

Into the Silent Land !
To you, ye boundless regions
Of all perfection! Tender morning-visions

Of beauteous souls! The Future's pledge and band!
Who in Life's battle firm doth stand,
Shall bear Hope's tender blossoms
Into the Silent Land !

O Land ! O Land !
For all the broken-hearted
The mildest herald by our fate allotted,
Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand
To lead us with a gentle hand
Into the land of the great Departed,
Into the Silent Land !

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