In hymns of joy, which proudly rise, To tell the calm untroubled skies, That earth hath banish'd care and woe, NOTES Note 1, page 287, line 40. THE original of the scene here described is presented by the moun tain called the Feldberg, in the Bergstrasse :-" Des masses énormes de rochers, entassées l'une sur l'autre depuis le sommet de la montagne jusqu'à son pied, viennent y présenter un aspect superbe qu' aucune description ne saurait rendre. Ce furent, dit-on, des géans, qui en se livrant un combat du haut des montagnes, lancèrent les uns sur les autres ces énormes masses de rochers. On arrive, avec beaucoup de peine, jusqu'au sommet du Feldberg, en suivant un sentier qui passe à côté de cette chaine de rochers. On entend continuelle ment un bruit sourd, qui parait venir d'un ruisseau au dessous des rochers; mais on a beau decendre, en se glissant à travers les ouvertures qui s'y trouvent, on ne decouvrira jamais le ruisseau. La colonne, dite Riesensäule, se trouve un peu plus haut qu'à la moitie de la montagne; c'est un bloc de granit taillé, d'une longueur de 30 pieds et d'un diamètre de 4 pieds. Il y a plus de probabilité de croire que les anciens Germains voulaient faire de ce bloc une colonne pour l'érige; en l'honneur de leur dieu Odin, quede prétendre, comme le fort plusieurs auteurs, que les Romains aient eu le dessein de la transporter dans leur capitale. On voit un peu plus haut un autre bloc d'une forme presque carrée, qu'on appelle Riesenaltar (autel du géant) qui, à en juger par sa grosseur et sa forme, était destiné à servir de piédestal à la colonne susdite."-Manuel pour les Voyageurs sur le Rhin. Note 2, page 292, line 42 Minnesingers (bards of love), the appellation of the German minstrels in the Middle Ages. SUPERSTITION AND REVELATION, AN UNFINISHED POEM. I. BEINGS of brighter worlds! that rise at times Which pass, like sunbeams, o'er the realms of thought, Can trace no step, Immortals! are ye there? Oh! who can tell?-what power, but Death alone Can lift the mystic veil that shades the world unknown? II. But Earth hath seen the days, ere yet the flowers In all your brightness, 'midst those holy bowers- III. Then, haply mortal and celestial lays With music since unheard: and man might trace, IV. Short were those days, and soon, O sons of Heaven! Beheld your forms in angry splendor tower, Guarding the clime where he no more might dwell, Is still for happier lands to pine-and reach them not. V. Where now the chosen bowers that once beheld And heaved the abyss beneath; till waves on waves Then left the earth a solitude, o'erspread With its own awful wreck-a desert of the dead. VI. But onward flow'd life's busy course again, Whisper'd a seraph's voice, or lived the breath of God. VII. Who hath not seen, what time the orb of day, VIII. Yet still one stream was pure-one sever'd shrine And angel guests would linger and repose Where those primeval tents amid their palm-trees rose IX. But far o'er earth the apostate wanderers bore X. Yes! we have need to bid our hopes repose XI. As one left lonely on the desert sands XII. His thoughts explored the past-and where were they, How knew the child of Nature that the flame Doom'd with the earth on which it moved, to blend? If 'twere a Father's love or Tyrant's wrath decreed? Serab, mirage. XIII. Oh! marvel not, it then he sought to trace, In rushing winds that wander through all space, Of floating forms, that throng the world of sleep, Were deem'd mysterious revelations, sent From viewless powers, the lords of each dread element. XIV. Was not wild Nature, in that elder time, Clothed with a deeper power?-earth's wandering race, Not as we see, beheld her awful face! Art had not tamed the mighty scenes which met Silent and vast, but not as in decay, And the bright daystar, from his burning throne, XV. The forests in their dark luxuriance waved, Man shaped unearthly presences, in dreams, Peopling each wilder haunt of mountains, groves, and streams. XVI. Then bled the victim-then in every shade Of rock or turf arose the votive shrine ; Fear bow'd before the phantoms she portray'd, And nature teem'd with many a mystic sign. Meteors, and storms, and thunders! ye whose course E'en yet is awful to th' enlighten'd eye, As wildly rushing from your secret source, Your sounding chariot sweeps the realms on high, Then o'er the earth prophetic gloom ye cast And the wide nations gazed and trembled as ye pass'd. XVII. But you, ye stars! in distant glory burning, Nurtured with flame, bright altars of the sky! |