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FROM THE GERMAN OF BÜRGER.
Uprose the sun : the church-dome shone
And burned aloft like burnished gold, And deep and far with swelling tone
The Sabbath-bell for matins tolled. Those holy peals from tower and steeple Awoke to prayer the Christian people.
His horn the Wild-and Rhinegrave sounded
What ho! To horse! to horse away!” His fiery steed beneath hiin bounded;
Forth sprang the hounds with yell and bay, And, loosed from leash, they dash pell-mell Through corn and thorn, down dell and fell.
In curve and zig-zag speeds their flight,
And “ Ho! Halloo !” bow rings the air ! When towards the Knight came left and right
A horseman here, a horseman there! A snow-white steed the one bestrode ; Like lurid fire the other's glowed.
Who were the yagers left and right?
I darkly guess, but fear to say.
And lovely as a Summer's day;
“All hail, Sir Count! We come in time
To chase the stay with horse and hound : Can lordlier sport or more sublime
Than this on Earth, in Heaven be found ?" So spake the left-hand stranger there, And tossed his bonnet high in air.
Ill sounds to-day thy boisterous horn,"
Thus did the other mildly say : “ Turn round to church this hallowed morn,
Mayest else hunt down a rueful prey !
'Spur on, spur on, Sir Count with me !"
Exclaimed the left-hand cavalier : " What's droning chant or chime to thee?
Hast got far nobler pastime here. Come! learn in my distinguished school, And laugh to scorn yon pious fool!"
“ Ha! ha! Well said, my left-hand feere
We tally bravely, I and thou :
Should count his beads in church, I trow.
And, helter-skelter, forward flew
That headlong train o'er plain and height; And still the yagers one and two
Preserved their places left and right; And soon a milk-white stay they spied With mighty antlers branching wide.
Afresh the Wildgrave winds his horn,
And horse and hound sweep on amain When, hurled to earth, all gashed and torn,
A man lies trampled by the train. “ Ay ! trample-to the devil trample! Our princely sport must needs be ample.”
And now, as in a field of corn
The panting prey a shelter seeks, A husbandman, with look forlorn,
Stands forth, uplifts his hands and speaks : “Oh! mercy, noble lord! and spare The poor man's sweat and hoary hair !
The pitying right-hand cavalier,
Then mildly warns and blandly pleads ; But, taunted by his horrid feere,
Who goads him on to devilish deeds, The Wildgrave fiercely spurns his warner, And hearkens to the left-hand scorner.
“ Avaunt, vile dog !-else, by the devil,”
The Wildgrave shouted furiously-. My blood-hounds on thy bones shall revel : Halloo, companions! follow me! And lash your whip-thongs in his ear, Until the reptile quakes for fear !"
Soon said, soon done--the Wildgrave springs
Across the fence with whoop and hollow, And, bugle-filled, the welkin rings
As hound and horse and hunter follow, Who trample down the yellow grain, Until the ruin reeks aguin.
The sounds once more the stag awaken;
Uproused, he flies o'er heights and plains, Till,' hotly chased, but uno’ertaken,
A pasture-ground at last he gains,
But on, by grot and wood and bill,
And on, by hill and wood and grot The yelling dogs pursue him still,
And scent his track, and reach the spot ; Whereon the herdsman, filled with trouble, Falls face to earth before the Noble.
“ O! mercy, lord ! Let not thy hounds
On these defenceless creatures fall! Bethink thee, noble Count, these grounds
Feed many a widow's little all ! Sirs, as ye hope for mercy yet, Spare, spare
the poor man's bitter sweat !"
And now the gentler cavalier
Renews his prayer, and sues and pleadsBut, taunted by his godless feere,
Who goads him on to hellish deeds, The Wildgrave scowls upon his warner, And hearkens to the left-hand scorner.
“ Audacious clay-clod! hast thou done ?
I would to Heaven thy herds and thou, Calves, cows and sheep, were bound in one!
By all that's damnable I vow
“ Halloo, companions! follow me
Ho! tally-ho! hurra! hurra!" So on the liounds rush ragingly,
And grapple each his nearest prey : Down sinks the herdsman, torn and mangled, Down sink his herds, all gashed and strangled.
Grown feebler now, the stag essays,
His coat besplashed with foam and blood, To reach, by many winding ways,
The covert of a neighbouring wood, And, plunging down a darksome dell, Takes refuge in a hermit's cell.
But hark! the horn, the clangorous horn,
The harsh hurra and stunning cheer
And horse and huntsman follow here,
“ Back, impious man! What! wilt profane
God's venerated sanctuary ?
Even now call down his wrath on thee :
Again the right-hand cavalier
In earnest mood entreats and pleads ; But, taunted by his grisly feere,
Who goads him still to hellish deeds, The Count shakes off his faithful warner, And hearkens to the left-hand scorner.
It is somewhat remarkable that public 80. Their report will contain not only attention has been so little turned to a detail of the misery consequent upon the consideration of the probable result the present system, or rather want of of the labours of the “ Commission of system, but suggestions as to remedial Irish Poor Inquiry.” It is a subject measures calculated to remove it. It upon which, of late, even the press has is probable that the next session of been silent. This may proceed either parliament will pass a bill in consefrom a prudent determination to form quence. Even in the present session or express no opinions until the result there has been an iinpatient desire exof the inquiry shall be made public, hibited of legislating before the reor from an apathy and indifference as port is brought up. Legislation we to the measures which may be founded shall undoubtedly have ; and how will upon it. It is tolerably evident that this affect the interests of all who have the latter is the true cause ; for people any thing to lose? This is a very serious are generally but too ready to form question, and ought to be considered opinions where their interests are di- carefully by every one, in order that rectly concerned, without waiting for when the time of discussion arrives, solid data to forin them upon ; yet this the public voice may be the expression is surely a subject upon which no Irish- of opinions founded upon argument, man should be indifferent. The com
om- and not of the fear of imaginary danmissioners bave now sat for above a gers, or of the sickly whinings of year; the government has pressed them morbid sensibility. The question is to report; they cannot long delay doing one which a few years ago was seldom