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THE HERMIT OF DRONNINGAARD.

THE HERMIT's EPITAPH.

Here may he rest, who, shunning scenes of strife,
Enjoy'd at Dronningaard a Hermit's life;
The faithless splendour of a court he knew,

And all the ardour of the tented field,
Soft Passion's idler charm, not less untrue,

And all that listless Luxury can yield.
He tasted, tender Love! thy chaster sweet;
Thy promis'd happiness prov'd mere deceit.
To Hymen's hallow'd fane by Reason led,

He deem'd the path he trod, the path of bliss;
Oh! ever mourn'd mistake! from int'rest bred,

Its dupe was plung'd in Misery's abyss.
But Friendship offer'd him, benignant power,
Her cheering hand, in trouble's darkest hour.

Beside this shaded stream, her soothing voice
Bade the disconsolate again rejoice:

Peace in his heart revives, serenely sweet;

The calm content so sought for as his choice,
Quits him no more in this belov'd retreat.

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In this singular solitude he passed several years, when the plans of his life became suddenly reversed, by a letter of recal from his prince, which contained the most flattering expressions of regard. The wishes of his sovereign and of his country were imperative, he flew to Holland, and at the head of his regiment fought and fell. The night preceding his departure, he composed a farewell to the enchanting scenery in whose bosom he had found repose, which as an affectionate remembrance of the unfortunate hermit, is inscribed upon a tablet of marble, raised in a little grove not far from the hermitage;

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THE HERMIT OF DRONNINGAARD.

for the following translation I am indebted to the poetic and

elegant mind of Leigh Hunt, Esq. :

FAREWELL OF THE HERMIT OF DRONNINGAARD.

Vain would life's pilgrim, ling'ring on his way,
Snatch the short respite of a summer's day;
Pale Sorrow, bending o'er his sad repose,
Still finds a tear in ev'ry shelt'ring rose:

Still breaks his dream, and leads th' unwilling slave
To weep, and wander to a distant grave.

E'en he, whose steps since life's ungenial morn
Have found no path unfretted with rude thorn;
From all he lov'd must turn his looks away,
Far, far from thee, fair Dronningaard, must stray,
Must leave the Eden of his fancy's dreams,
Its twilight groves and long-resounding streams;
Streams, where the tears of fond regret have ran,
And back return to sorrow and to man!

O yet once more, ye groves, your sighs repeat,
And bid farewell to these reluctant feet:
Once more arise, thou soft, thou soothing wave,
In weeping murmurs, ere I seek my grave;
Ere yet a thousand social ills I share,
Consuming war, and more consuming care,
Pleasures that ill conceal their future pains,
Virtue in want, blest Liberty in chains,
Vice, proud and powerful as the winter's wind,
And all the dire deliriums of mankind.

Yet e'en this heart may hail its rest to come;
Sorrow, thy reign is ended in the tomb!
There close the eyes, that wept their fires away;
There drop the hands that clasp'd to mourn and pray;

There sleeps the restlessness of aching hearts;

There Love, the tyrant, buries all his darts!

THE CROWN BATTERY.

O grant me, heav'n, thus sweetly to repose!
'Tis thus my soul shall triumph o'er its woes ;
Spring from the world, nor drop one painful tear
On all it leaves, on all it treasures here;

Save once, perhaps, when pensive moonlight gleams
O'er Dronningaard's meek shades and murmuring streams,
The sacred grief, to dear remembrance true,

O'er her soft flow'rs may shed its gentlest dew,

May once in sounds, that soothe the suff'ring mind,
Breathe its lorn murmurs through the solemn wind;

Lament, sweet spot, thy charms must wither'd be,

And linger e'en from heav'n to sigh for thee!

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The dispatch with which nature pushes on her vegetation in these cold climates is amazing: this delightful spot, which was now in full foliage, presented nothing but naked branches a fortnight before. I quitted Dronningaard with almost as much regret as did the devoted eremite.

A visit to the Crown-battery was very interesting. A young Danish officer, who was present at the battle of the second of April, pointed out the respective positions of the fleets and block ships, and described with great candour and liberality the particulars of the engagement. This formidable battery is about half an English mile from shore, is square, and the water flows into the middle of it; it is now very rapidly enlarging, and undergoing such alterations as will make it a place of great strength. It is also in contemplation to raise a fresh battery to the southward in addition to that called the lunette. The harbour is very capacious and safe. The holm or arsenal is not

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DANISH COMMERCE.

shewn without the permission of the admiral. The ships in ordinary are finely arranged and make a gallant show: a gallery or narrow bridge, resting upon piles, runs on each side of the line, which is patroled day and night. The magazines, forges, and workshops are upon an admirable construction: each ship has her different magazine, containing all the materials for her rapid equipment. This depot is furnished with iron from Norway, hemp from Riga, cloth from Russia and Holland, and wood from Pomerania. The rope-walks are each a thousand feet long. As I was enjoying, one fine afternoon, a row in that part of the harbour where the arsenal is, and nothing can be more beautiful or interesting than such an excursion, I observed a man of war lying near the quay of a peculiar construction: she swelled amazingly in the upper sides, forming a considerable portion of a circle, for the purpose of enabling her to bring several of her after guns to act with her bow guns or with her stern chasers: she had a very clumsy appearance, and I was informed that the experiment had not answered the wishes of government. The number of merchant vessels we saw at the quay confirmed the account we received of the magnitude of the Danish commerce. Nature, which has broken the kingdom into islands, has instinctively made the Danes, merchants and sailors: their principal foreign trade is with France, Portugal, and Italy, and the East and West Indies: their principal domestic trade is with Norway, and even with Iceland, which, to all but its patriotic and con

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tented native, is a most deplorable country, the very outskirts of the world. The seamen are registered, and are divided into two classes, the stationary sailors who are always in the employ of the crown; the others are, in times of peace, permitted to enter into merchant ships, subjeet to recal in case of war, and have a small annual stipend. The academy of marine cadets forms one of the palaces in the Octagon; it was founded by Frederic V. Here, and at an hotel which belongs to it, sixty youths are maintained and instructed in the principles of navigation, at the expence of the crown. There are also several other young gentlemen admitted to the school, but are not maintained there. Every year several of these gallant pupils make a cruise in a brig of war, that they may blend practice with theory. The academy of land cadets is pretty nearly upon the same establishment: fifty boys are maintained and educated for a military life, by the crown, and others are admitted to the school, but maintained at their own expence. The former are well fed, but are never permitted to drink tea. In the academy is a riding house, and in the adjoining stables eight horses are kept for the use of the young pupils in the art of riding.

DANISH ACADEMIES AND CITADEL.

In the course of my rambles I visited the citadel, which is small and stands at the extremity of the city, and contains two battalions; it has two gates, one towards the city, and the other towards the country; the latter is well fortified by five bastions. Adjoining the chapel is the dungeon in which the

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