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The cloud-shrouded arm gives the weapon; and, seo The recreant receives the charm'd gift on his knee: The thunders growl distant, and faint gleam the fires, As, borne on his whirlwind, the Phantom retires.
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
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; Till the Knights of the Temple, and Knights of Saint John,
With Salem's King Baldwin, against him came on.
The war-cymbals clatter'd, the trumpets replied, The lances were-couch'd, and they clos'd on each side;
And horsemen and horses Count Albert o'erthrew, Till he pierc'd the thick tumult King Baldwin unto.
Against the charm'd blade which Count Albert did wield
The fence had been vain of the King's Red-cross shield;
But a Page thrust him forward the monarch before, And cleft the proud turban the renegade wore.
So fell was the dint, that Count Albert stoop'd low Before the cross'd shield, to his steel saddle-bow; And scarce had he bent to the Red-cross his head,"Bonne grace, notre Dame," he unwittingly said. Sore sigh'd the charm'd sword, for its virtue was o'er, It sprung from his grasp, and was never seen more; But true men have said, that the lightning's red wing Did waft back the brand to the dread Fire-King.
He clench'd his set teeth, and his gauntletted hand; He stretch'd, with one buffet, that Page on the strand; As back from the stripling the broken casque roll'd, You might see the blue eyes, and the ringlets of gold
Short time had Count Albert in horror to stare
For down came the Templars, like Cedron in flood,
FREDERICK AND ALICE.
[This tale is imit ted, 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.]
FREDRICK leaves the land of France,
Careless casts the parting glance,
Joying in his prancing steed,
Helpless, ruin'd, left forlorn,
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 curs'd, and wild she pray'd; Sev'n 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,
Told the fourth, the fated hour?
Starts the steed, and snuffs the air,
Struck with strange mysterious fears. Desp'rate, as his terrors rise,
In the steed the spur he hides;
Sev'n long days, and sev'n long nights,
Weary, wet, and spent with toil,
Where his head shall Fredrick hide? Where, but in yon ruined aisle, By the lightning's flash descried.
To the portal, dank and low,
Fast his steed the wand'rer bound; Down a ruin'd staircase slow,
Next his darkling way he wound.
Long drear vaults before him lie; Glimm'ring lights are seen to glide!→→ "Blessed Mary, hear my cry!
Deign a sinner's steps to guide !"
Often lost their quiv'ring beam,
Thund'ring 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
Well he knew that solemn air,
Hark! for now a solemn knell
Four times on the still night broke;
As the lengthen'd clangours die,
Coffins for the seats extend;
All with black the board was spread;
Girt by parent, brother, friend,
Long since number'd with the dead!
Alice, in her grave-clothes bound,
High their meagre arms they wave,
Wild their notes of welcome swell;
"Welcome, traitor, to the grave! Perjur'd, bid the light farewell?"
THE WILD HUNTSMEN.
[This is a translation, or rather an imitation, of the Wilde Jager of the German poet Burger. The tradition upon which it is found ed bears, that formerly a Wildgrave, or keeper of a royal forest, named Falkenburgh, was so much a idicted to the pleasures of the chase, and otherwise so extremely profligate and cruel, that he not only followed this unhallowed amusement on the Sabbath, and other days consecrated to religious duty, but accompanied it with the most unheard-of of pression upon the poor peasants, who were under his vassalage, When this second Nimrod died, the people adopted a superstition, founded probably on the many various uncouth sounds heard in the depth of a German forest, during the silence of the night They conceived they still heard the cry of the Wildgrave's hounds; and the well-known cheer of the deceased hunter, the sounds of his horses' feet, and the rustling of the branches before the game, the pack, and the sportsmen are also distinctly discriminated; but the phantoms are rarely, if ever, visible.]
THE Wildgrave winds his bugle horn,
To horse, to horse! halloo, halloo !
His fiery courser snuffs the morn,
And thronging serfs their lord pursue.
The eager pack, from couples freed,
Dash through the bush, the brier, the brake;
The beams of God's own hallow'd day
And, calling sinful man to pray,
Loud, long, and deep, the bell had toll'd:
Two Stranger Horsemen join the train.