IX.

XV.

The noble Baron turn'd him round, his heart was

"Thy tower another banner knows, thy steeds another rein,

full of care, His gallant Esquire stood him nigh, he was Mars- And stoop them to another's will thy gallant vastetten's heir, sal train; To whom he spoke right anxiously, "Thou trusty And she, the Lady of thy love, so faithful once squire to me, and fair,

Wilt thou receive this weighty trust when I am This night within thy fathers' hall she weds Mars o'er the sea?

X.

tetten's heir."

XVI.

"To watch and ward my castle strong, and to It is the noble Moringer starts up and tears his protect my land, beard,

And to the hunting or the host to lead my vassal "Oh would that I had ne'er been born! what band;

And pledge thee for my lady's faith till seven
long years are gone,

And guard her as Our Lady dear was guarded by
Saint John ?"

XI.

Marstetten's heir was kind and true, but fiery, hot, and young,

tidings have I heard!

To lose my lordship and my lands the less would be my care,

But, God! that e'er a squire untrue should wed my Lady fair.

XVII.

"O good Saint Thomas, hear," he pray'd, “my patron Saint art thou,

And readily he answer made with too presump- A traitor robs me of my land even while I pay my

It was the good Saint Thomas, then, who heard his pilgrim's prayer,

to guard your lands, and ward your towers, and And sent a sleep so deep and dead that it o'er

with your vassals ride;

And for your lovely Lady's faith, so virtuous and so dear,

power'd his care;

He waked in fair Bohemian land outstretch'd beside a rill,

I'll gage my head it knows no change, be absent High on the right a castle stood, low on the left a

A long adieu he bids to all-hoists topsails, and "I know my fathers' ancient towers, the mill, the away, And wanders in Saint Thomas-land seven twelve- Now blessed be my patron Saint who cheer'd his

months and a day.

XIV.

pilgrim's woe!"

XX.

It was the noble Moringer within an orchard He leant upon his pilgrim staff, and to the mill he siert,

drew,

master knew;

When the Baron's slumbering sense a boding So alter'd was his goodly form that none their

vision crept;

[charity, And whisper'd in his ear a voice, ""Tis time, Sir The Baron to the miller said, "Good friend, for Tell a poor palmer in your land what tidings may

Knight, to wake,

Thy lady and thy heritage another master take.

there be ?"

The miller answered him again, "He knew of little The Lady's gentle heart was moved, "Do up the

news,

Save that the Lady of the land did a new bridegroom choose;

Her husband died in distant land, such is the constant word,

gate," she said,

"And bid the wanderer welcome be to banquet

and to bed;

And since he names my husband's name, so that he lists to stay,

His death sits heavy on our souls, he was a worthy These towers shall be his harborage a twelveLord.

XXII.

month and a day."

XXVIII.

"Of him I held the little mill which wins me living It was the stalwart warder then undid the portal free, broad, God rest the Baron in his grave, he still was kind It was the noble Moringer that o'er the threshold to me!

And when Saint Martin's tide comes round, and millers take their toll,

strode ;

"And have thou thanks, kind heaven," he said, "though from a man of sin,

The priest that prays for Moringer shall have both That the true lord stands here once more his cope and stole."

To gain the entrance of my hall this woeful match Short space he sat, but ne'er to him seem'd little to break."

His very knock it sounded sad, his call was sad Now spent was day, and feasting o'er, and come and slow,

For heart and head, and voice and hand, were heavy all with woe;

was evening hour,

The time was nigh when new-made brides retire to nuptial bower;

And to the warder thus he spoke: “Friend, to thy | “Our castle's wont,” a brides-man said, "hath been

both firm and long,

A pilgrim from Saint Thomas-land craves harbor No guest to harbor in our halls till he shall chant

Lady say,

for a day.

“I've wander'd many a weary step, my strength Then spoke the youthful bridegroom there as he is wellnigh done, sat by the bride, And if she turn me from her gate I'll see no mor- "My merry minstrel folk," quoth he, “lay shalm

row's sun;

and harp aside;

I pray, for sweet Saint Thomas' sake, a pilgrim's Our pilgrim guest must sing a lay, the castle's rule bed and dole,

to hold,

And for the sake of Moringer's, her once-loved And well his guerdon will I pay with garment and husband's soul."

with gold."—

XXXII.

XXVI.

It was the stalwart warder then he came his dame before,

"Chill flows the lay of frozen age," 'twas thus the pilgrim sung,

A pilgrim, worn and travel-toil'd, stands at the "Nor golden meed nor garment gay, unlocks his castle-door; heavy tongue; And prays, for sweet Saint Thomas' sake, for har- Once did I sit, thou bridegroom gay, at board as bor and for dole, rich as thine,

And for the sake of Moringer, thy noble husband's And by my side as fair a bride with all her charms was mine.

soul."

'Twas with that very ring of gold he pledged his It was Marstetten then rose up, his falchion there bridal truth.

Then to the cupbearer he said, "Do me one kindly "My oath and knightly faith are broke," these were

And crave her of her courtesy to pledge the palm- The noble Moringer he smiled, and then aloud did er gray."

The cupbearer was courtly bred, nor was the boon My daughter now hath fifteen years, fame speaks denied,

The golden cup he took again, and bore it to the I give her for the bride you lose, and name her for bride;

That, in thy noble courtesy, thou pledge the palm- «The young bridegroom hath youthful bride, the er gray."

The ring hath caught the Lady's eye, she views it But blessings on the warder kind that oped my close and near,

Then you might hear her shriek aloud, "The Mor- For had I come at morrow tide, I came a day too inger is here!" late."

The Erl-Bing.'

FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHÉ,

(The Erl-King is a goblin that haunts the Black Forest in Thuringia.-To be read by a candle particularly long in the snuff.)

"Be still, my heart's darling-my child, be at ease;
It was but the wild blast as it sung thro' the trees."
Erl-King.

"O wilt thou go with me, thou loveliest boy?
My daughter shall tend thee with care and with joy;
She shall bear thee so lightly thro' wet and thro'
wild,

O, WHO rides by night thro' the woodland so wild? And press thee, and kiss thee, and sing to my child” It is the fond father embracing his child;

378.

1 1797. "To Miss Christian Rutherford.—I send a gob- ing a version of that ballad, as it has been translated by Lewu lin story. You see I have not altogether lost the faculty of W. S."-Life, vol. i. P rhyming. I assure you there is no small impudence in attempt

END OF BALLADS FROM THE GERMAN

Lyrical and Miscellaneous Pieces,

IN THE ORDER OF THEIR COMPOSITION OR PUBLICATION.