The Eternal Lord, The Almighty God, The end of the world. Crieth then, so care-worn, With cold utterance, The ghost to the dust: "Dry dust! thou dreary one! How little didst thou labour for me! In the foulness of earth Thou all wearest away Like to the loam ! Little didst thou think Danish. KING CHRISTIAN. A NATIONAL SONG OF DENMARK.-FROM THE DANISH OF JOHANNES EVALD. KING CHRISTIAN stood by the lofty mast His sword was hammering so fast, Through Gothic helm and brain it passed; In mist and smoke. Fly!" shouted they, "fly he who can! The stroke?" Nils Juel gave heed to the tempest's roar, Now is the hour! He hoisted his blood-red flag once more, And smote upon the foe full sore, And shouted loud, through the tempest's roar, "Now is the hour!" "Fly!" shouted they, "for shelter fly! North Sea! a glimpse of Wessel rent Then champions to thine arms were sent; From Denmark, thunders Tordenskiol', Path of the Dane to fame and might! Receive thy friend, who, scorning flight, And amid pleasures and alarms, THE ELECTED KNIGHT. SIR OLUF he rideth over the plain, Full seven miles broad and seven miles wide, But never, ah, never can meet with the man A tilt with him dare ride. He saw under the hill side A knight full well equipped; His steed was black, his helm was barred; He wore upon his spurs Twelve little golden birds; Anon he spurred his steed with a clang, And there sat all the birds and sang. He wore upon his mail Twelve little golden wheels; Anon in eddies the wild wind blew, And round and round the wheels they flew, He wore before his breast A lance that was poised in rest; He wore upon his helm A wreath of ruddy gold; And that gave him the Maidens Three, Sir Oluf questioned the knight eftsoon "I am not Christ the great, Thou shalt not yield thee yet; I am an unknown knight, Three modest maidens have me bedight." "Art thou a knight elected, And have three maidens thee bedight? The first tilt they together rode, The third tilt they together rode, Now lie the lords upon the plain, And their blood runs unto death; Now sit the maidens in the high tower, CHILDHOOD. FROM THE DANISH OF JENS BAGGESEN. THERE was a time when I was very small, And therefore I recall it with delight. I sported in my tender mother's arms, And rode a-horseback on best father's knee; Alike were sorrows, passions, and alarms, And gold, and Greek, and love, unknown to me. Then seemed to me this world far less in size, I saw the moon behind the island fade, And thought, "O, were I on that island there, I could find out of what the moon is made, Find out how large it is, how round, how fair!" Wondering, I saw God's sun, through western skies, Sink in the ocean's golden lap at night, And yet upon the morrow early rise, And paint the eastern heaven with crimson light! And thought of God, the gracious Heavenly Father, With childish reverence, my young lips did say "O gentle God! O, let me strive alway So prayed I for my father and my mother, сс They perished, the blithe days of boyhood perished, German. THE HAPPIEST LAND. FRAGMENT OF A MODERN BALLAD. THERE sat one day in quiet, By an alehouse on the Rhine, And drank the precious wine. The landlord's daughter filled their cups, Then sat they all so calm and still, And spake not one rude word. But when the maid departed, A Swabian raised his hand, And cried, all hot and flushed with wine, "The greatest kingdom upon earth With all the stout and hardy men "Ha!" cried a Saxon, laughing, "I had rather live in Lapland, Than that Swabian land of thine! "The goodliest land on all this earth, There have I as many maidens As fingers on this hand!" |