"'T was right a goblet the Fate should be
Of the joyous race of Edenhall !
Deep draughts drink we right willingly;
And willingly ring, with merry call,
Kling! klang! to the Luck of Edenhall !"

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,
Suddenly cracks the vaulted hall;
And through the rift, the wild flames start;
The guests in dust are scattered all,
With the breaking Luck of Edenhall !

In storms the foe, with fire and sword;
He in the night had scaled the wall,
Slain by the sword lies the youthful Lord,
But holds in his hand the crystal tall,
The shattered Luck of Edenhall.

On the morrow the butler gropes alone,
The graybeard in the desert hall,
He seeks his Lord's burnt skeleton,

He seeks in the dismal ruin's fall
The shards of the Luck of Edenhall.

"The stone wall," saith he, "doth fall aside,

Down must the stately columns fall;
Glass is this earth's Luck and Pride;
In atoms shall fall this earthly ball
One day like the Luck of Edenhall ! ”

THE TWO LOCKS OF HAIR

(DER JUNGGEsell)

BY GUSTAV PFIZER

A YOUTH, light-hearted and content, I wander through the world; Here, Arab-like, is pitched my tent And straight again is furled.

obeyed,

Whatever forbidden thou hast not gainsaid.

How in the turmoil of life can love stand, Where there is not one heart, and one mouth, and one hand?

soms,

To the doors of heaven would bear, Calling even in storm and tempest, Round me still these birds of air.

strife;

Like a dog and a cat live such man and

wife.

Annie of Tharaw, such is not our love; Thou art my lambkin, my chick, and my dove.

Whate'er my desire is, in thine may be

seen;

I am king of the household, and thou art its queen.

It is this, O my Annie, my heart's sweetest

rest,

That makes of us twain but one soul in one breast.

This turns to a heaven the hut where we dwell;

While wrangling soon changes a home to a hell.

THE STATUE OVER THE CATHEDRAL DOOR

(DAS STEINBILD AM DOME)

BY JULIUS MOSEN

FORMS of saints and kings are standing
The cathedral door above;
Yet I saw but one among them

Who hath soothed my soul with love.

In his mantle, - wound about him,
As their robes the sowers wind,
Bore he swallows and their fledglings,
Flowers and weeds of every
kind.

And so stands he calm and childlike,
High in wind and tempest wild;

Oh, were I like him exalted,
I would be like him a child!

BILL

(Der KreuzSCHNABEL, No. 3)

BY JULIUS MOSEN

On the cross the dying Saviour
Heavenward lifts his eyelids calm,
Feels, but scarcely feels, a trembling
In his pierced and bleeding palm.

And by all the world forsaken,
Sees He how with zealous care
At the ruthless nail of iron

A little bird is striving there.

Stained with blood and never tiring,

With its beak it doth not cease, From the cross 't would free the Saviour, Its Creator's Son release.

And the Saviour speaks in mildness : "Blest be thou of all the good! Bear, as token of this moment,

Marks of blood and holy rood !"

And that bird is called the crossbill;
Covered all with blood so clear,
In the groves of pine it singeth

Songs, like legends, strange to hear.

THE SEA HATH ITS PEARLS

BY HEINRICH HEINE

THE sea hath its pearls,
The heaven hath its stars;
But my heart, my heart,
My heart hath its love.

Great are the sea and the heaven,
Yet greater is my heart;
And fairer than pearls and stars
Flashes and beams my love.