And silently he strove With the workings of his breast; For his face was seen by his warrior-train, He look'd upon the dead, He stoop'd-and kiss'd the frozen cheek, Till bursting words-yet all too weak- "Oh, father! is it vain, I Alas! my guilty pride and ire! I would give England's crown, my sire! 66 Speak to me! mighty grief Ere now the dust hath stirr'd! Hear me, but hear me !-father, chief, "Thy silver hairs I see, They had not been so white! I bore thee down, high heart! at last, "Thou wert the noblest king, And thou didst wear in knightly ring, Of all, the stateliest mien; And thou didst prove, where spears are proved, In war, the bravest heart Oh! ever the renown'd and loved Thou wert-and there thou art! "Thou that my boyhood's guide How will that sad still face of thine THE VASSAL'S LAMENT FOR THE FALLEN TREE. "Here (at Bereton in Cheshire) is one thing incredibly strange, but attested, as I myself have heard, by many persons, and commonly believed. Before any heir of this family dies, there are seen, in a lake adjoining, the bodies of trees swimming on the water for several days."-CAMDEN'S Britannia.] YES! I have seen the ancient oak And it was not fell'd by the woodman's stroke, For the axe might never touch that tree, I saw it fall, as falls a chief By an arrow in the fight, And the old woods shook, to their loftiest leaf, And the startled deer to their coverts drew, "Tis fallen! but think thou not I weep But by that sign too well I know, A youthful head, with its shining hair, But on his brow the mark is set Oh! could my life redeem him yet! He bounded by me as I gazed Alone on the fatal sign, And it seem'd like sunshine when he raised His joyous glance to mine! With a stag's fleet step he bounded by, So full of life-but he must die! He must, he must! in that deep dell, 'Tis known that ne'er a proud tree fell I've borne him in these arms, that now I must!-yon green oak, branch and crest, It seem'd like youth to see him young, But the hour of the knell and the dirge is nigh, Say not 'tis vain!-I tell thee, some And they must go!-and he too, he- THE WILD HUNTSMAN. It is a popular belief in the Odenwald, that the passing of the Wild Huntsman announces the approach of war. He is supposed to issue with his train from the ruined castle of Rodenstein, and tra verse the air to the opposite castle of Schnellerts. It is confidently asserted, that the sound of his phantom. horses and hounds was heard by the Duke of Baden before the commencement of the last war in Germany.] THY rest was deep at the slumberer's hour, Of the savage horn from the mountain tower, The stag sprung up from his mossy bed And the oak-boughs crash'd to his antler'd head The banner shook on its ancient hold, With the din of the trampling race; And the glens were fill'd with the laugh and shout, From the chieftain's hand the wine-cup fell, At the castle's festive board, And a sudden pause came o'er the swell The convent's chanted rite was stay'd And a trembling ran through the forest-shade, And the church-bells peal'd to the rocking blast The storm hath swept with the chase away. But the mother looks on her son to-day, And the maiden's brow hath a shade of care The Rhine flows bright; but its waves erelong And a clash of spears our hills among, And a trumpet from afar; And the brave on a bloody turf must lie. BRANDENBURG HARVEST-SONG.+ FROM THE GERMAN OF LA MOTTE FOUQUE. THE Corn, in golden light Waves o'er the plain The sickle's gleam is bright; Now send we far around Our harvest lay!— Alas! a heavier sound Comes o'er the day! Earth shrouds with burial sod Her soft eye's blue, How o'er the gifts of God Fall tears like dew! *Minnesinger, love-singer,-the wandering minstrels of Germany were so called in the middle ages. For the year of the Queen of Prussia's death On every breeze a knell We know its cause too well, THE SHADE OF THESEUS. AN ANCIENT GREEK TRADITION. KNOW ye not when our dead Through the holy laurel bowers; When banners caught the breeze, There was one, a leader crown'd, Though their path was through his breast When banners caught the breeze, His sword was seen to flash Where the boldest deeds were done; But it smote without a clash: The stroke was heard by none! His voice was not of those That swell'd the rolling blast, And his steps fell hush'd like snows When banners caught the breeze, Far sweeping through the foe, |