Графични страници
PDF файл

Path of the Dane to fame and might!
Dark-rolling wave! _

Receive thy friend, who, seeming flight,

Goes to meet danger with despite ,

Proudly as thou the tempest’s might,
Dark - rolling wave !

And amid pleasures and alarms,

And war and victory, be thine arms
My gravel“


THERE sat one day in quiet,
By an alehouse on the Rhine,
Four hale and hearty fellows,
And drank the precious wine.

The landlord’s daughter filled their cups,
Around the rustic board;

Then sat they all so calm and still,
And spake not one rude word.

But, when the maid departed,
A Swabian raised his hand,

And cried, all hot and flushed with wine,
“Long live the Swabian land! v

*' Nlls Juel was a celebrated Danish Admiral, and Peder Wessel, a

Vice-Admiral, who for his great prowess received the popular title of Tordensklold, or Thunder-shield. In childhood he was a tailor‘s apprentice, and rose to his high rank before the age of twenty-eight, when he was killed in a duel

“The greatest kingdom upon earth
Cannot with that compare;

With all the stout and hardy men
And the nut-brown maidens there."

“Ha!” cried a Saxon, laughing, -—
And dashed his heard with wine;'
“ I had rather live in Lapland ,
Than that Swabian land of thine!

“The goodliest land on all this earth,
It is the Saxon land!

There have I as many maidens
As fingers on this hand!”

“Hold your tongues! both Swabian and Saxon!’
A bold Bohemian cries;

“If there ’s a heaven upon this earth ,
In Bohemia it lies.

[merged small][ocr errors]

And then the landlord’s daughter
Up to heaven raised her hand,

And said, “Ye may no more contend, --
There lies the happiest land!”

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small]



“THE rivers rush into the sea,
By castle and town they go;

The Winds behind them merrily
Their noisy trumpets blow.

“The clouds are passing far and high,
We little birds in them play;

And every thing, that can sing and fly,
Goes with us, and far away.

“I greet thee, bonny boat! Whither, or whence,
With thy fluttering golden band?” —

“I greet thee, little bird! To the wide sea
I haste from the narrow land.

“Full and swollen is every sail;
I see no longer a hill,

I have trusted all to the sounding gale ,
And it will not let me stand still.

“And Wilt thou, little bird, go with us?
Thou mayest stand on the maiflnast tall,
For full to sinking is my house
\Vith merry companions all.” —

“I need not and seek not company,
Bonny boat, I can sing all alone;

For the mainmast tall too heavy am I,
Bonny boat, I have wings of my own.

“High over the sails, high over the mast,
Who shall gainsay these joys?

\Vhen thy merry companions are still, at last,
Thou shalt hear the sound of my voice.

“Vl’ho neither may rest, nor listen may,

‘ God bless them every one!

I dart away, in the bright blue day,
And the golden fields oi, the sun.

“Thus do I sing my weary song,
\Vherever the four winds blow;

And this same song, my whole life long,
Neither Poet nor Printer may know.”


I HEARD a brooklet gushing
From its rocky fountain near,

Down into the valley rushing,
So fresh andlwondrous clear.

I know not what came o’er me ,
Nor who the counsel gave;
But I must hasten downward,
All with my pilgrim-stave;
Downward, and ever farther,
And ever th! 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 ofa 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.

« ПредишнаНапред »