so vowed the knights, and so sang the minstrels. "All the knights arose when Dora Vernon appeared. Fill all your winecups, knights,' said Sir Lucas Peverel. 'Fill them to the brim,' said Sir Henry Avenel. 'And drain them out, were they deeper than the Wye,' said Sir Godfrey Gernon. To the health of the Princess of the Peak,' said Sir Ralph Cavendish. To the health of Dora Vernon,' said Sir Hugh de Wodensley; 'beauty is above titles, she is the loveliest maiden a knight ever looked on, with the sweetest name too.' And yet, Sir Knight,' said Peverel, filling his cup, I know one who thinks so humbly of the fair name of Vernon, as to wish it charmed into that of De Wodensley.' 'He is not master of a spell so profound;' said Avenel. And yet he is master of his sword,' answered De Wodensley, with a darkening brow. 'I counsel him to keep it in its sheath,' said Cavendish, lest it prove a wayward servant.'I will prove its service on thy bosom where and when thou wilt, Lord of Chatsworth,' said De Wodensley. Lord of Darley,' answered Cavendish, it is a tempting moonlight, but there is a charm over Haddon to-night it would be unseemly to dispel. To-morrow, I meet Lord John Manners to try whose hawk has the fairer flight, and whose love the whiter hand. That can be soon seen; for who has so fair a hand as the love of young Rutland ? I shall be found by Durwood-Tor when the sun is three hours up, with my sword drawn there's my hand on't, De Wodensley; and he wrung the knight's hand till the blood seemed starting from beneath his finger nails. "By the saints, Sir Knights,' said Sir Godfrey Gernon, you may as well beard one another about the love of * some bright particular star and think to wed it, as the wild wizard of Warwick says, as quarrel about this unattainable love. Hearken, minstrels: while we drain our cups to this beauteous lass, sing some of you a kindly love strain, wondrously mirthful and melancholy. Here's a cup of Rhenish, and a good gold Harry in the bottom on't, for the minstrel who pleases me.' The minstrels laid their hands on the strings, and a sound was heard like the swarming of bees before summer thunder. Sir Knight,' said one, I will sing ye, Cannie Johnie Armstrong with all the seventeen variations.' 'He was hanged for cattle stealing,' answered the knight. I'll have none of him.' 'What say you to Dick of the Cow, or the Harper of Lochmaben?' said another, with something of a tone of diffidence: What! you northern knaves, can you sing of nothing but thievery and jail-breaking?' 'Perhaps your knightship,' humbly suggested a third, may have a turn for the supernatural, and I'm thinking the Fairy Legend of young Tamlane is just the thing that suits your fancy.' 'I like the naïveté of the young lady very much,' answered the knight, but the fair dames of Derbyshire prize the charms of lovers with flesh and blood, before the gayest Elfin knight that ever ran a course from Carlisle to Caerlaverock.' • What would your worship say to William of Cloudesley?' said a Cumberland minstrel, or to the Friar of Orders Grey?' said a harper from the halls of the Percys. "Minstrels,' said Sir Ralph Cavendish, 'the invention of sweet and gentle poesy is dead among you. Every churl in the Peak can chaunt us these beautiful but common ditties. Have you nothing new for the honour of the sacred calling of verse, and the beauty of Dora Vernon? Fellow-harper,what's your name? you with the long hair and the green mantle,' said the knight, beckoning to a young minstrel who sat with his harp held before him, and his face half buried in his mantle's fold: come, touch your strings and sing; I'll wager my gold-hilted sword against that pheasant feather in thy cap, that thou hast a new and a gallant strain; for I have seen thee measure more than once the form of fair Dora Vernon with a ballad-maker's eye.Sing, man, sing.' 6 "The young minstrel, as he bowed his head to this singular mode of request, blushed from brow to bosom ; nor were the face and neck of Dora Vernon without an acknowledgment of how deeply she sympathized in his embarrassment. A finer instrument, a truer hand, or a more sweet and manly voice, hardly ever united to lend grace to rhyme. THE MINSTREL'S SONG. 1. Last night a proud page came to me; The stars stream'd out, the new-woke moon The stars beam'd lovelier from the sky, "Fellow,' said Sir Ralph Cavendish, thou hast not shamed my belief of thy skill; keep that piece of gold, and drink thy cup of wine in quiet, to the health of the lass who inspired thy strain, be she lordly, or be she low.' The minstrel seated himself, and the interrupted mirth re-commenced, which was not long to continue. When the minstrel began to sing, the King of the Peak fixed his large and searching eyes on his person, with a scrutiny from which nothing could escape, and which called a flush of apprehension to the face of his daughter Dora. Something like a cloud came upon his brow at the first verse, which, darkening down through the second, became as dark as a December night at the close of the third, when rising, and motioning Sir Ralph Cavendish to follow, he retired into the recess of the southern window. “Sir Knight,' said the lord of Haddon, thou art the sworn friend of John Manners, and well thou knowest what his presumption dares at, and what are the letts between him and me. Cavendo tutus! ponder on thy own motto well. Let seas between us swell and sound :'-let his song be prophetic, for Derbyshire,-for England has no river deep enough and broad enough to preserve him from a father's sword, whose peace he seeks to wound.''Knight of Haddon,' said Sir Ralph, John Manners is indeed my friend; and the friend of a Cavendish can be no mean person; a braver and a better spirit never aspired after beauty.' 'Sir Knight,' said the King of the Peak, 'I court no man's counsel; hearken to my words. Look at the moon's shadow on Haddon-dial; there it is beside the casement; the shadow falls short of twelve. If it darkens the midnight hour, and John Manners be found here, he shall be cast fettered, neck and heel, into the deepest dungeon of Haddon.' "All this passed not unobserved of Dora Vernon, whose fears and affec tions divined immediate mischief from the calm speech and darkened brow of her father. Her heart sank within her when he beckoned her to withdraw; she followed him into the great tapestried room. 'My daughter, my love Dora,' said the not idle fears of a fath er,' wine has done more than its usual good office with the wits of our guests to-night; they look on thee with bolder eyes, and speak of thee with a bolder tongue, than a father can wish. Retire, therefore, to thy chamber. One of thy wisest attendants shall be thy companion.-Adieu, my love, till sun-rise!" He kissed her white temples and white brow; and Dora clung to his neck, and sobbed in his bosom;-while the secret of her heart rose near her lips. He returned to his guests, and mirth and music, and the march of the wine-cup, re-commenced with a vigour which promised reparation for the late intermission. "The chamber, or rather temporary prison of Dora Vernon, was nigh the cross-bow window which looked out on the terraced garden, and the extensive chase towards the hill of Haddon. All that side of the hall lay in deep shadow, and the moon, sunk in the very summit of the western heath, threw a level and a farewell beam over river and tower. The young lady of Haddon seated herself in the recessed window, and lent her ear to every sound, and her eye to every shadow that flitted over the garden and chase. Her attendant maiden -shrewd, demure, and suspicious, of the ripe age of thirty-yet of a merry pleasant look, which had its admirerssat watching every motion with the eye of an owl. "It was past midnight, when a foot came gliding along the passage, and a finger gave three slight scratches on the door of the chamber. The maid went out, and after a brief conference suddenly returned, red with blushes from ear to ear. Oh, my lady!' said the trusty maiden,-oh, my sweet young lady, here's that poor young lad-ye know his name— who gave me three yards of crimson ribbon, to trim my peach-bloom mantle, last Bakewell fair. An honester or a kinder heart never kept a promise; and yet I may not give him the meeting. Oh, my young lady, my sweet young lady, my beautiful young lady, could you not stay here for half an hour by yourself?' Ere her young mistress could answer, the notice of the lover's presence was renewed.The maiden again went-whispers were heard-and the audible salutation of lips; she returned again more resolute than ever to oblige her lover. Oh, my lady—my young lady; if ye ever hope to prosper in true love your self-spare me but one half hour with this harmless kind lad.-He has come seven long miles to see my fair face, he says;—and, oh, my lady, he has a handsome face of his own.— .—Oh, never let it be said that Dora Vernon sundered true lovers!--but I see consent written in your own lovely face-so I shall run—and, oh, my lady, take care of your own sweet handsome self, when your faithful Nan's away. And the maiden retired with her lover. "It was half an hour after midnight, when one of the keepers of the chase, as he lay beneath a holly bush listening, with a prolonged groan, to the audible voice of revelry in the hall, from which his duty had lately excluded him, happened to observe two forms approaching; one of low stature, a light step, and muffled in a common mantle :the other with the air, and in the dress, of a forester--a sword at his side, and pistols in his belt. The ale and the wine had invaded the keeper's brain, and impaired his sight; yet he roused himself up with a hiccup and a 'hilloah,' and where go ye, my masters ? The lesser form whispered to the other who immediately said, 'Jasper Jugg, is this you? Heaven be praised I have found you so soon ;--here's that north country pedlar, with his beads and blue ribbon-he has come and whistled out pretty Nan Malkin,the lady's favourite, and the lord's trusty maid.—I left them under the terrace, and came to tell you.' My "The enraged keeper scarce heard this account of the faithlessness of his love to an end,--he started off with the swiftness of one of the deer which he watched, making the boughs crash, as he forced his way through bush and glebe direct for the hall, vowing desertion to the girl, and destruction to the pedlar. Let us hasten our steps, my love,' said the lesser figure, in a sweet voice; and unmantling as she spoke, turned back to the towers of Haddon the fairest face that ever left them— the face of Dora Vernon herself. men and my horses are nigh, my love,' said the taller figure; and taking a silver call from his pocket, he imitated the sharp shrill cry of the plover; then turning round he stood and gazed towards Haddon, scarcely darkened by the setting of the moon, for the festal lights flashed from turret and casement, and the sound of mirth and revelry rang with augmenting din. Ah, fair and stately Haddon," said Lord John Manners, little dost thou know, thou hast lost thy jewel from thy brow-else thy lights would be dimmed, thy mirth would turn to wailing, and swords would be flashing from thy portals in all the haste of hot pursuit. Farewell, for a while, fair tower, farewell for a while.-I shall return, and bless the time I harped among thy menials and sang of my love-and charmed her out of thy little chamber window.' Several armed men now came suddenly down from the hill of Haddon, horses richly caparisoned were brought from among the trees of the chase, and the ancestors of the present family of Rutland sought shelter, for a time, in a distant land, from the wrath of the King of the Peak." 6 (European Magazine. SPECIMENS OF THE GERMAN LYRIC POETS, CONSISTING OF TRANSLATIONS, &c. 1822. THIS volume contains seventy-three poetical pieces, and twenty biographical notices, which include the interesting names of Bürger, Claudius, Von Goethe, Hölty, Klopstock, Von Kotzebue, Von Schiller, Schubart,Stolberg, Voss, and Weisze. As these names have already a powerful interest with the public, we shall select our specimens chiefly from them. Our first extract shall be from the masterly Goethe, only remarking, that the subject is quite a German Romance, and that it is headed by a delicate wood-cut : THE FISHER. IN gurgling eddies roll'd the tide, Its verdant, willow'd bank beside, And spread the treacherous bait. Reclin'd he sat in careless mood, The floating quill he eyed ;- She sweetly sang, she sweetly said, I Why thus with murd'rous arts invade Ah, didst thou know, how blest, how free, Thou'st long to dive the limpid sea, The sun, the lovely queen of night, Nor tempts thee there thy pictured face, The tide in gurgling eddies rose, So sang the soft, the winning fair: The following beautiful song by the same poet, must remind every reader of the commencement of the Bride of Abydos. SONG. Know'st thou the land, where citrons scent the gale, day; Where scarce the mule can trace his misty way; Of Schiller's genius we select the following grand specimen. MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS, In the Park of Fotheringay Castle. Freedom returns,-oh let me enjoy it, Drink in the free, the celestial air.— Why wake me from myDream's so sweet confusion? From where yon misty mountains rise on high, I can my Empire's boundaries explore, And those light clouds which steering southwards fly, Seek the mild clime of France's genial shore; Hastening clouds! ye meteors that fly, Could I but with you speed through the sky? Tenderly greet me the land of my youth; I am in sorrow, I am in restraint. I have none else to bear my complaint; Ye are not subject to this tyrant Queen. Again, oh! sadly pleasing remembrance ; Oft, when with music the hounds and the horn The following is by Salis : SPRING. Fresher green the lawns display, Sweetly wails the nightingale. Love awakes the soft recess: Now each shepherd bolder grows, Kinder every shepherdess! Now the blossom rears its head, Spring recals its blooming pride; Spring enamels all the mead, Decks the hillock's sloping side. See the lily of the vale, Peeping through its leafy shade, Half its modest charms conceal : Garland meet for spotless maid. Now the woodbine's twining shade, Sweetly forms the rustic bower ;Soft retreat of youth and maid, True to love's appointed hour! Fonder grows the Zephyr's kiss, Pleasure wakes at every call: Vernal life, and thrilling bliss, Fee is the heart, that feels at all! The ensuing drinking Song, which has all the vivacious feeling of our own Morris,is extracted from the anonymous writers which close the volume; and with it our poetical specimens must also be concluded. To Bacchus, dear Bacchus, an altar I'll raise, And Venus, bright Goddess, the incense shall share, Independent of the above, did our space allow, we should be happy to give copies of many other beautiful po ems contained in this volume; as, for instance, Bürger's verses beginning, How in the charms of countless loves. in which there is such a beautiful display of pious, tender, and delicate sentiment, that it almost shakes our faith 19 ATHENEUM VOL. 11. in Schlegel's remark on this poet; namely, that "his feelings are more honest and candid, than tender and delicate:" but had he often written thus, such negative praise could never have been awarded to him. Of a different character is the next poem, entitled "Love's Witchcraft ;" but the sweet playfulness of it deserves equal commendation. LOVE'S WITCHCRAFT. Maiden, look me in the face; Frightful art thou not; 'tis true, Be thou lovely ;—yet, I ween, When I turn me here and there, Yet hast thou imperial sway; Scores of maidens !-what a train! Long the cause I've vainly scann'd, |