He clench'd his set teeth, and his gauntletted hand; For down came the Templars, like Cedron in flood, The Saracens, Kurdmans, and Ishmaelites yield Cold pour'd the sweat in freezing rill; Brought storm and tempest on its wing. Earth heard the call!-Her entrails rend; From yawning rifts, with many a yell, Mix'd with sulphureous flames, ascend The misbegotten dogs of hell. What ghastly Huntsman next arose, Well may I guess, but dare not tell; is eye like midnight lightning glows, His steed the swarthy hue of hell. The Wildgrave flies o'er bush and thorn, With many a shriek of helpless woe; Behind him hound, and horse, and horn, And, « Hark away, and holla, ho!»> With wild despair's reverted eye, Close, close behind, he marks the throng, With bloody fangs, and eager cry,— In frantic fear he scours along. Still, still shall last the dreadful chase, This is the horn, and hound, and horse, That oft the lated peasant hears; Appall'd, he signs the frequent cross, When the wild din invades his ears. The wakeful priest oft drops a tear For human pride, for human woe, When, at his midnight mass, he hears The infernal cry of, « Holla, ho!» WILLIAM AND HELEN. Imitated from the «LENORE» of BURGER. THE author had resolved to omit the following version of a well-known poem, in any collection which he might make of his poetical trifles. But the publishers having pleaded for its admission, the author has consented, though not unaware of the disadvantage at which this youthful essay (for it was written in 1795) must appear with those which have been executed by much more able hands, in particular that of Mr Taylor of Norwich, and that of Mr Spencer. The following translation was written long before the author saw any other, and originated in the following circumstances. A lady of high rank in the literary world read this romantic tale, as translated by Mr Taylor, in the house of the celebrated Professor Dugald Stewart of Edinburgh. The author was not present, nor indeed in Edinburgh at the time; but a gentleman, who had the pleasure of hearing the ballad, afterwards told him the story, and repeated the remarkable chorus All mild, amid the rout profane; The holy hermit pour'd his prayer;« Forbear with blood God's house to stain; Revere his altar, and forbear! «The meanest brute has rights to plead, Which, wrong'd by cruelty, or pride, Draw vengeance on the ruthless head :Be warn'd at length, and turn aside.>> Still the Fair Horseman anxious pleads; The Black, wild whooping, points the prey:Alas! the earl no warning heeds, But frantic keeps the forward way. «Holy or not, or right or wrong, Thy altar, and its rites, I spurn; Not sainted martyrs' sacred song, Not God himself, shall make me turn!»> He spurs his horse, he winds his horn, And horse, and man, and horn, and hound, Wild gazed the affrighted earl around; He strove in vain to wake his horn; In vain to call; for not a sound Could from his anxious lips be borne. He listens for his trusty hounds; No distant baying reach'd his ears; His courser, rooted to the ground, The quickening spur unmindful bears. Still dark and darker frown the shades, High o'er the sinner's humbled head At length the solemn silence broke; And from a cloud of swarthy red, The awful voice of thunder spoke. « Oppressor of creation fair! «Be chased for ever through the wood; For ever roam the affrighted wild; And let thy fate instruct the proud, God's meanest creature is his child.» "T was hush'd: one flash, of sombre glare, With yellow tinged the forests brown; Up rose the Wildgrave's bristling hair, And horror chill'd each nerve and bone. Cold pour'd the sweat in freezing rill; A rising wind began to sing; And louder, louder, louder still; Brought storm and tempest on its wing. Earth heard the call!-Her entrails rend; From yawning rifts, with many a yell, Mix'd with sulphureous flames, ascend The misbegotten dogs of hell. What ghastly Huntsman next arose, Well may I guess, but dare not tell; His eye like midnight lightning glows, His steed the swarthy hue of hell. The Wildgrave flies o'er bush and thorn, With many a shriek of helpless woe; Behind him hound, and horse, and horn, And, « Hark away, and holla, ho!» With wild despair's reverted eye, Close, close behind, he marks the throng, With bloody fangs, and eager cry,— In frantic fear he scours along. Still, still shall last the dreadful chase, This is the horn, and hound, and horse, That oft the lated peasant hears; Appall'd, he signs the frequent cross, When the wild din invades his ears. The wakeful priest oft drops a tear For human pride, for human woe, When, at his midnight mass, he hears The infernal cry of, « Holla, ho!»> WILLIAM AND HELEN. Imitated from the « LENORE» of BURGER. THE author had resolved to omit the following version of a well-known poem, in any collection which he might make of his poetical trifles. But the publishers having pleaded for its admission, the author has consented, though not unaware of the disadvantage at which this youthful essay (for it was written in 1795) must appear with those which have been executed by much more able hands, in particular that of Mr Taylor of Norwich, and that of Mr Spencer. The following translation was written long before the author saw any other, and originated in the following circumstances. A lady of high rauk in the literary world read this romantic tale, as translated by Mr Taylor, in the house of the celebrated Professor Dugald Stewart of Edinburgh. The author was not present, nor indeed in Edinburgh at the time; but a gentleman, who had the pleasure of hearing the ballad, afterwards told him the story, and repeated the remarkable chorus |