When I paused to hear The old ballad of King Christian Thou recallest bards, Who, in solitary chambers, And with hearts by passion wasted, Thou recallest homes Where thy songs of love and friendship Once some ancient Scald, Once in Elsinore, At the court of old King Hamlet, Once Prince Frederick's Guard Suddenly the English cannon Joined the chorus! Peasants in the field, Sailors on the roaring ocean, Students, tradesmen, pale mechanics All have sung them. Thou hast been their friend; They, alas, have left thee friendless! And, as swallows build In these wide, old-fashioned chimneys, Quiet, close, and warm, And recalling by their voices WALTER VON DER VOGELWEIDE. VOGELWEID the Minnesinger, When he left this world of ours, Laid his body in the cloister, Under Würtzburg's minster towers. And he gave the monks his treasures, Saying, "From these wandering minstrels Let me now repay the lessons They have taught so well and long." Thus the bard of love departed; And, fulfilling his desire, On his tomb the birds were feasted Day by day, o'er tower and turret, Longfellow. I. 17 On the tree whose heavy branches On the cross-bars of each window, There they sang their merry carols, Till at length the portly abbot Then in vain o'er tower and turret, Then in vain, with cries discordant, Time has long effaced the inscriptions Where repose the poet's bones. But around the vast cathedral, DRINKING SONG. INSCRIPTION FOR AN ANTIQUE PITCHER. COME, old friend! sit down and listen! Old Silenus, bloated, drunken, Fauns with youthful Bacchus follow; And possessing youth eternal. Round about him, fair Bacchantes, Bearing cymbals, flutes, and thyrses, Wild from Naxian groves, or Zante's Vineyards, sing delirious verses. Thus he won, through all the nations, Bloodless victories, and the farmer Bore, as trophies and oblations, Vines for banners, ploughs for armor. Judged by no o'erzealous rigor, These are ancient ethnic revels, Now to rivulets from the mountains Claudius, though he sang of flagons Even Redi, though he chaunted Then with water fill the pitcher Light upon Lucullus' tables. Come, old friend, sit down and listen! In the head of old Silenus! THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS. L'éternité est une pendule, dont le balancier did et redit sans cesse ces SOMEWHAT back from the village street Tall poplar-trees their shadows throw An ancient timepiece says to all,· "Forever- never! Never forever!" |