Beams you fix'd Star! whose intermitting blaze, Like Woman's changeful eye, now shuns our eye-- In vain, for, pierced with myriad shafts, she died; And now her timid Ghost dares only brood Pride, passion, hate, distrust and agony? And wandering from its golden course. It seems Some spirit from the nether world bath'scaped Heaven's vigilance, and mixed with purer forms To work there deeds of evil. If Sybils now Breathed their dark oracles, or nations beut, As once they bent, before Apollo's shrine, And owned the frenzied priestess' auguries, What might not this portend?---Changes, and acts Of fear, and bloody massacres---perchance From torments in the central earth, and flung And (like a stream of fire) winged his fierce way Ambiguous---undismayed--thro' frightful wastes, To where, amidst the jarring elements, M B. Past thoughts, taat come like shadows Y mind is full of many wanderings, from their graves, Dissolving as we clasp them,---sudden sounds, To the tired sea-boy nestling in the shrouds;-- Bouldering, fibers that yet hearts Mouldering, like embers that yet feed their flame, Mother of spectres, thou'rt a fearful thing. Mingled with purple, and the sapphire light That beams from evening waters, image there Bowers of bright beauty, solemn glades, soft hills Empurpled with the mantle of rich blooms That know no time of fading, crystal lakes Fanned but by musky gales those sweet buds breathe. Thou art no pilgrim-bark thro' heavenly seas; But a soft lower Paradise, to soothe The spirits of the innocent, ere they pass Before the loftier throne. Here rest, sweet babes [died,-- That looked but upon earth, and wept and Maids that like may-dew shone, and were exhaled High hearts that died of unrequited love, Bards, that with nature's touch awoke the I've reach'd thee now. Thou art no Paradise, Thou art a lonely throne; thy canopy The harvest blooms of gold, some to drop dew He sits like one embosom'd in high thought, 127 His locks are amber rays, that sparkling fall, Parted, around his high,pure brow,and shade, Clustering, the cheek, where flowers of Par adise Mix with the splendours of the western Sun. breath Richer than myrtles and the Persian rose, Crush'd, wreath'd and weeping,i'th' evening dew. THE SWORD SONG. BY KÖRNER. X. Those characteristics of poetry,in respect to style and imagery, most esteemed in one particular tongue, are not easy to be conveyed in a translation, without violating the rules of propriety fixed for t language into which the translation is made. There is great difficulty in avoiding, on one hand, the total annihilation of all that characterizes the foreign writer except his mere words, and on the other, of writing what may be almost deemed nousense when given in a new dress, by too great a fidelity to the original: these extremes should be avoided in a good translation; and herein consists the principal art of making one. It is not amiss, however, when the genius of a language will allow it, especially for the gratification of the curious reader, now and then to give a translation as near as possible in manner and spirit to the original, even when it may seem new and uncouth if compared to productions written in the vernacular tongu The following wild and singular poem of the celebrated German poet Korner, entitled "The Sword Song," written a few hours only before he was killed, on the 25th of August, 1813, will exemplify this, and will no doubt interest those who are pleased with the bold imagery and the novelty of German poetry: it is rendered in every respect as near to the original as possible. That means thy glittering polished sword upon my belted vest, crest? Thoy seem'st within my glowing breast Thro' blood and death---Hurrah!" Joined in the field?---Hurrah!" Soon as our bridal morn shall rise, While the shrill trumpet's summons flies, And the red cannon rends the skies, We'll join our hands---Hurrah! "O sacred union !---haste away, Ye tardy moments of delay I long, my bridegroom, for the day To be thy bride---Hurrah!" - Why cling'st thou in the scabbard---why ? Thou iron fair of destiny, So wild---so fond of battle-cry, Why cling'st thou so ?---Hurrah! "I hold myself in dread reserve, Fierce---fond in battle-fields to serve, The cause of freedom to preserve-- For this I wait---Hurrah!" "Oh let me not too long await--- In bloody blooin---Hurrah!" Come forth! quick from thy scabbard fly, Thy native home---Hurrah! "O glorious thus in nuptial tie, Glitters your bride---Hurrah!” When clasping thee?---Hurrah! Thee glowing to my lips I'll press, Who thee forsakes---Hurrah! Let joy sit in thy polished eyes, My Bride of Steel---Hurrah! [VOL. 4 "Why, my dear cousin Dick! I have had such a go !-- I went to the rout the last evening, you know, And a little time after the end of the dance, I was lounging about, when I lit on a chance: Would you guess it, dear boy! why the handsomest Lass [glass. Was taking a peep at your friend thro' her But this is not all---for the fine things she said Have not for a moment been out of my head: Spoke in praise of my colour, commended my shape, [escape-Said something of brightness, which made its But the words of how lovely! how charming! how sweet! ter'd feels? In accents of love 'twas my hap thus to meet. And I found in the end I had nothing to say; So dropping the hand which with courage I took, letter, I made her my bow---but I gave such a look! Then went to my lodgings and wrote her a [better. I scarce think our Parson or you could do She's a very fiue fortune, I took care of that, So I think I have managed the business quite pat." "Yes, a pat on the head with a bullet may show [owe, How much to your wit this adventure you For a rival in black, or a rival in red, May soon let you know how your message has sped. Here---look through this tube, and perceive what an ass [ing but glass ! You have made of yourself.---she was praisSo a truce to your visions of fancy and hope, What you took to yourself, was her Kaleidoscope.' But now, my dear Robin, the secret you'll keep, Or poor cousin Straggle may pay for the peep. From the New Monthly Magazine. THE ARTIST'S CHAMBER. A SKETCH ON THE SPOT. HE room was low and lone, but lingeredthere, TH In careless loveliness the marks of mind; The page of chivalry, superb and drear, Beside a half-filled vase of wine reclined, Told how romance and gaiety combined. And there, like things of immortality, Stood Statues, in their master's soul enshrin'd, VENUS, with the sweet smile and heavenly eye, And the sad, solemn beauty of pale NIOBE. ΤΗ From the Literary Gazette, August 1818. AN AUTUMN NEAR THE RHINE. 8vo. 1818. HIS is one of the most pleasing softness almost bordering on timidity. journals of a Continental Excur- She has all the appearance of having sion which has appeared since the suffered much: but the expression of opening of the communications, or we her countenance is rather that of penmight rather say of the Mine for trav- sive mildness than of melancholy. Her ellers, which, to own the truth, has features have a tone of quick sensibilibeen dug and bored most persevering- ty, which a lady happily described, in ly, till some ore and much rubbish has observing that the Queen always apbeen brought to the surface and import- peared on the point of smiling or weeped into England, in packages of the ing. Her manners are simple, and shape of unpretending duodecimos, frank in the highest degree. convenient octavos, and respectable- She is a good English scholar, and adlooking quartos. The author has fol- mired the poems of Lord Byron and lowed rather a new vein, and has, we Moore. The Princess (her think, extracted some tolerable speci- daughter) is of a slender delicate figmens of metal from it; and as he has ure, not without grace. The Prince been obliging enough to give it us un- (her son) a tall well-looking youth of mixed with too much, though there is sixteen, simple and good-humoured, a little, of the common make-weight earthy matter, we are bound to a favourable report of his production. The Ex-Queen of Sweden, called the Helen of the North for her beauty, is one of the author's portraits. with a strong resemblance to his father, is now pursuing his education at the University of Heidelberg, under the care of a respectable Swiss governor. The Queen has some thoughts of sending her son to an English University." "The Queen, now above thirty years This Prince, who is within a few of age, still retains that interesting ex- weeks of the same age as Oscar Bernapression of countenance which is the dotte, no doubt looks forward with best part of beauty. Her figure is hope to the throne of his ancestors. slender and graceful; and her delicate complexion, and soft grey eyes, give We had intended to extract, at her the features which are not quite length, the author's very spirited acGrecian, an expression of feminine count of German Universities, as repre R ATHENEUM. Vol. 4. 130 Traditions on the Banks of the Rhine. [VOL. 4 land blushed as he gave it, for it was the glory of the whole country; and the knight was so enchanted at the distinction of his visitor, that he begged him to stay another day-Hildegonda said not a word-but her looks were eloquent, and Roland wanted little persuasion. The fate of the young knight's heart was decided by his stay, and he only waited for an opportunity to declare himself. Such opportunities generally present themselves and Roland, as he walked in the garden, found the young lady sitting in a pensive reverie, in which a bolder modern beau would have flattered himself he had a place. Roland's timidity, however, made him awkward in accosting her; and the young lady to conceal her own.embarby.-The knight begged her to give it rassment, stooped to gather a rose just him-lamenting that as yet no emblem of happy moments adorned his casque ; and that when his comrades boasted the beauty and virtue of their belles, he was obliged to look down and be silent. Hildegonda with a blush complied, saying, as she presented it to him"All that is beautiful endures but for a Traditions on the Banks of the Rhine. "The tradition concerning the castle or rather hermitage of Rolandseck says, that it was christened after Roland the gallant nephew of Charlemagne, who, as the story goes, set out one day from his uncle's palace at Ingelheim on a picturesque tour, on the banks of the Rhine. He dropped in at the chateau of a valiant knight, who received him moment."-Roland no longer hesitatwith a friendly squeeze of the hand; ed to declare his passion-they swore while his daughter (who like other to each other eternal fidelity; and the young ladies in those good days, was knight promised to return immediately not above being useful) ran to fetch after the campaign in Palestine, to lead him some home-made bread and wine. his mistress to the altar. As she poured out the wine, with the After Roland's departure, Hildegongrace of a Hebé, into a goblet adorned da, led a retired and pensive life. The with the arms of the old Chatelain, fame of her lover's achievements reachand presented it with a blush to the ed her, and gladdened her heart. One nephew of the great king, he was struck evening a travelling knight demanded with her beauty and modest grace; hospitality at the castle. He had servand was soon surprised to find certain ed in Charlemagne's army, and Hildeenigmatical sensations creeping about gonda trembled as she demanded inhim which he never had experienced telligence of Roland. "I saw him fall before. His arm trembled as he took gloriously by my side, covered with the goblet, and he involuntarily said to wounds," said the knight;-Hiidegonhimself" this never happened to me da turned pale at his words, and was in presence of the enemy, or when ex- motionless as a statue. Ten days afposed to the thick swords of the Sara- terwards she asked permission of her cens. At night, Roland could not father to take the veil; and she enterclose his eyes for the image of the beau- ed the convent of Frauen worth, in an tiful Hildegonda, which stood constantly before him. In the morning, when about to take leave, his kind host demanded his name. The modest Ro island in the Rhine. The bishop of the diocese, who was her relation, allowed her to abridge her noviciate and profess herself at the end of three months. |