And sawest thou on the turrets "Led they not forth, in rapture, They were moving slow, in weeds of woe, THE BLACK KNIGHT. FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND. 'TWAS Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness, When woods and fields put off all sadness. Thus began the King and spake; "So from the halls Of ancient Hofburg's walls, A luxuriant Spring shall break." Drums and trumpets echo loudly, Fell all the Cavaliers, Before the monarch's stalwart son. 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, Down fall from her the fair Flowerets, faded, to the ground. To the sumptuous banquet came '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; "Oh, that draught was very cool!" Each the Father's breast embraces, Whichever way Looks the fear-struck father grey, "Woe! the blessed children both 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, oh, 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, To lead us with a gentle hand Into the land of the great Departed, Into the Silent Land! L'ENVOI. YE voices, that arose After the evening's close, And whispered to my restless heart repose! Of all who doubt and fear, And say to them, "Be of good cheer!" Ye sounds, so low and calm, That in the groves of balm Seemed to me like an angel's psalm! Go, mingle yet once more With the perpetual roar Of the pine-forest, dark and hoar! Tongues of the dead, not lost, Glimmer, as funeral lamps, Of the vast plain where Death encamps! BALLADS AND OTHER POEMS. THE SKELETON IN ARMOUR. [The following Ballad was suggested to me while riding on the sea-shore at Newport. A year or two previous a skeleton had been dug up at Fall River, clad in broken and corroded armour; and the idea occurred to me of connecting it with the Round Tower at Newport, generally known hitherto as the Old Wind-Mill, though now claimed by the Danes as a work of their early ancestors. Professor Rafn, in the Mémoires de la Société Royale des Antiquaires du Nord, for 1838-1839, says : "There is no mistaking in this instance the style in which the more ancient stone edifices of the North were constructed, the style which belongs to the Roman or Ante-Gothic architecture, and which, especially after the time of Charlemagne, diffused itself from Italy over the whole of the West and North of Europe, where it continued to predominate until the close of the 12th century; that style, which some authors have, from one of its most striking characteristics, called the round-arch style, the same which in England is denominated Saxon and sometimes Norman architecture. "On the ancient structure in Newport there are no ornaments remaining, which might possibly have served to guide us in assigning the probable date of its erection. That no vestige whatever is found of the pointed arch, nor any approximation to it, is indicative of an earlier rather than of a later period. From such characteristics as remain, however, we can scarcely form any other inference than one, in which I am persuaded that all, who are familiar with Old-Northern architecture, will concur, THAT THIS BUILDING WAS ERECTED AT A PERIOD DECIDEDLY NOT LATER THAN THE 12TH CENTURY. This remark applies, of course, to the original building only, and not to the alterations that it subsequently received; for there are several such alterations in the upper part of the building which cannot be mistaken, and which were most likely occasioned by its being adapted in modern times to various uses, for example, as the substructure of a wind-mill, and latterly as a hay magazine. To the same times may be referred the windows, the fire-place, and the apertures made above the columns. That this building could not have been erected for a wind-mill, is what an architect will easily discern." I will not enter into a discussion of the point. It is sufficiently well established for the purpose of a ballad; though doubtless many an honest citizen of Newport, who has passed his days within sight of the Round Tower, will be ready to exclaim with Sancho; God bless me! did I not warn you to have a care of what you were doing, for that it was nothing but a windmill; and nobody could mistake it, but one who had the like in his head."] "SPEAK! speak! thou fearful guest! Still in rude armour drest, Comest to daunt me! Wrapt not in Eastern balms, Why dost thou haunt me?" Then, from those cavernous eyes And, like the water's flow From the heart's chamber. "I was a Viking old! My deeds, though manifold, "Far in the Northern Land, Tamed the ger-falcon ; And, with my skates fast-bound, "Oft to his frozen lair Tracked I the grisly bear, Sang from the meadow. "But when I older grew, With the marauders. |