"Who neither may rest, nor listen I KNOW a maiden fair to see, 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." Take care! She can both false and friendly be, She has two eyes, so soft and brown, Take care! She gives a side-glance and looks down, 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; That Castle by the Sea, "The winds and the waves of ocean, Had they a merry chime? Didst thou hear, from those lofty Glimmer, as funeral lamps, And say to them, "Be of good Of the vast plain where Death encheer!" camps. BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS, PREFACE. 66 THERE is one poem in this volume, in reference to which a few introductory remarks may be useful. It is "The Children of the Lord's Supper," from the Swedish of Bishop Tegnér; a poem which enjoys no inconsiderable reputation in the North of Europe, and for its beauty and simplicity merits the attention of English readers. It is an Idyl, descriptive of scenes in a Swedish village; and belongs to the same class of poems, as the "Luise" of Voss and the "Hermann und Dorothea' of Göthe. But the Swedish Poet has been guided by a surer taste than his German predecessors. His tone is pure and elevated; and he rarely, if ever, mistakes what is trivial for what is simple. There is something patriarchal still lingering about rural life in Sweden, which renders it a fit theme for song. Almost primeval simplicity reigns over that Northern land,-almost primeval solitude and stillness. You pass out from the gate of the city, and, as if by magic, the scene changes to a wild, woodland landscape. Around you are forests of fir. Overhead hang the long, fan-like branches, trailing with moss, and heavy with red and blue cones. Underfoot is a carpet of yellow leaves; and the air is warm and balmy. On a wooden bridge you cross a little silver stream; and anon come forth into a pleasant and sunny land of farms. Wooden fences divide the adjoining fields. Across the road are gates, which are opened by troops of children. The peasants take off their hats as you pass; you sneeze, and they cry, "God bless you." The houses in the |