And not a sound the still invades, 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! Apostate Spirits' harden'd tool! Scorner of God! Scourge of the poor! The measure of thy cup is full. "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." 'Twas hush'd:-One flash, of sombre glare, With yellow tinged the forests brown; Uprose 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 ;-herentrails rend; From yawning rifts, with many a yell, Mix'd with sulphureous flames, ascend Well may I guess, but dare not tell; With bloody fangs, and eager cry; At midnight's witching hour, ascend. 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!" THE FIRE-KING. "The blessings of the evil Genii, which are curses, were upon him."-Eastern Tale. [1801.] This ballad was written at the request of Mr. LEWIS, to be inserted in his Tales of Wonder.* It is the third in a series of four ballads, on the subject of Elementary Spirits. The story is, however, partly historical; for it is recorded, that, during the struggles of the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem, a Knight-Templar, called Saint-Alban, deserted to the Saracens, and defeated the Christians in many combats, till he was finally routed and slain, in a conflict with King Baldwin, under the walls of Jerusalem. BOLD knights and fair dames, to my harp give an ear, Of love, and of war, and of wonder to hear; And you haply may sigh, in the midst of your glee, At the tale of Count Albert, and fair Rosalie. * Published in 1801. O see you that castle, so strong and so high? "Now palmer, grey palmer, O tell unto me, "O well goes the warfare by Galilee's wave, For the Heathen have lost, and the Christians have won." A fair chain of gold 'mid her ringlets there hung; O'er the palmer's grey locks the fair chain has she flung: "O palmer, grey palmer, this chain be thy fee, For the news thou hast brought from the Holy Countrie. "And palmer, good palmer, by Galilee's wave, O saw ye Count Albert, the gentle and brave? When the Crescent went back, and the Red-cross rush'd on, "O lady, fair lady, the tree green it grows; Your castle stands strong, and your hopes soar on high; "The green boughs they wither, the thunderbolt falls, O she's ta'en a horse, should be fleet at her speed ; Small thought had Count Albert on fair Rosalie, "O Christian, brave Christian, my love would'st thou be, And, next, in the cavern, where burns evermore He has thrown by his helmet, and cross-handled sword, And in the dread cavern, deep deep under ground, He watch'd the lone night, while the winds whistled round; Scarce pass'd he the archway, the threshold scarce trode, And, borne on the blast, came the dread Fire-King. Full sore rock'd the cavern whene'er he drew nigh, In his hand a broad falchion blue-glimmer'd through smoke, Count Albert has arm'd him the Paynim among, Though his heart it was false, yet his arm it was strong; And the Red-cross wax'd faint, and the Crescent came on, From the day he commanded on Mount Lebanon. From Lebanon's forests to Galilee's wave, The sands of Samaar drank the blood of the brave; The war-cymbals clatter'd, the trumpets replied, So fell was the dint, that Count Albert stoop'd low FREDERICK AND ALICE. [1801.] THIS tale is imitated, rather than translated, from a fragment introduced in Goethe's "Claudina von Villa Bella," where it is sung by a member of a gang of banditti, to engage the attention of the family, while his companions break into the castle. It owes any little merit it may possess to my friend Mr. LEWIS, to whom it was sent in an extremely rude state; and who, after some material improvements, published it in his Tales of Wonder. FREDERICK leaves the land of France, Homeward hastes his steps to measure, Careless casts the parting glance On the scene of former pleasure. Joying in his prancing steed, Keen to prove his untried blade, Hope's gay dreams the soldier lead Över mountain, moor, and glade. Helpless, ruin'd; left forlorn, Lovely Alice wept alone; Mourn'd o'er love's fond contract torn, Hope, and peace, and honour flown. Mark her breast's convulsive throbs! See, the tear of anguish flows!Mingling soon with bursting sobs, Loud the laugh of frenzy rose. Wild she cursed, and wild she pray'd; Seven long days and nights are o'er ; Death in pity brought his aid, As the village bell struck four. Far from her, and far from France, Faithless Frederick onward rides ; Marking, blithe, the morning's glance Mantling o'er the mountains' sides. Heard ye not the boding sound, As the tongue of yonder tower, Slowly, to the hills around, Told the fourth, the fated hour? Starts the steed, and snuffs the air, Yet no cause of dread appears; Bristles high the rider's hair, Struck with strange mysterious fears. Desperate, as his terrors rise, In the steed the spur he hides; From himself in vain he flies; Anxious, restless, on he rides. Seven long days, and seven long nights, Wild he wander'd, woe the while! Ceaseless care, and causeless fright, Urge his footsteps many a mile. Weary, wet, and spent with toil, By the lightning's flash descried. Fast his steed the wanderer bound: Down a ruin'd staircase slow, Next his darkling way he wound. Long drear vaults before him lie! Glimmering lights are seen to glide!"Blessed Mary, hear my cry! Deign a sinner's steps to guide!" Often lost their quivering beam, Still the lights move slow before, Till they rest their ghastly gleam Right against an iron door. Thundering voices from within, Mix'd with peals of laughter, rose; As they fell, a solemn strain Lent its wild and wondrous close! Midst the din, he seem'd to hear Voice of friends, by death removed ;Well he knew that solemn air, 'Twas the lay that Alice loved.— Hark! for now a solemn knell Four times on the still night broke; Four times, at its deaden'd swell, Echoes from the ruins spoke. |