THE LUCK OF EDENHALL. FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND. [The tradition, upon which this ballad is founded, and the "shards of the Luck of Edenhall," still exist in England. The goblet is in the possession of Sir Christopher Musgrave, Bart., of Eden Hall, Cumberland; and is not so entirely shattered, as the ballad leaves it.] Or Edenhall, the youthful Lord And cries, 'mid the drunken revellers all, "Now bring me the Luck of Edenhall ! " The butler hears the words with pain, Takes slow from its silken cloth again The drinking glass of crystal tall ; Then said the Lord; "This glass to praise, Fill with red wine from Portugal!" The gray-beard with trembling hand obeys; A purple light shines over all, It beams from the Luck of Edenhall. Then speaks the Lord, and waves it light, "This glass of flashing crystal tall Gave to my sires the Fountain-Sprite; "'T was right a goblet the Fate should be Deep draughts drink we right willingly; First rings it deep, and full, and mild, Like to the song of a nightingale ; Then like the roar of a torrent wild; Then mutters at last like the thunder's fall, The glorious Luck of Edenhall. "For its keeper takes a race of might, The fragile goblet of crystal tall ; It has lasted longer than is right; Kling! klang!-with a harder blow than all Will I try the Luck of Edenhall!" As the goblet ringing flies apart, And through the rift, the wild flames start; With the breaking Luck of Edenhall ! In storms the foe, with fire and sword; The shattered Luck of Edenhall. On the morrow the butler gropes alone, He seeks his Lord's burnt skeleton, He seeks in the dismal ruin's fall The shards of the Luck of Edenhall. |