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The eager pack, from couples freed,

Dash through the bush, the brier, the brake; While answering hound, and horn, and steed, The mountain

echoes startling wake. The beams of God's own hallowed day

Had painted yonder spire with gold, And, calling sinful man to pray,

Loud, long, and deep the bell had tolled: But still the wildgrave onward rides;

Halloo, halloo! and hark again! When, spurring from opposing sides,

T'wo stranger horsemen join the train. Who was each stranger, left and right,

Well may I guess, but dare not tell;
The right hand steed was silver white,

The left, the swarthy hue of hell.
The right hand horseman, young and fair,

His smile was like the morn of May;
The left, from eye of tawny glare,

Shot midnight lightning's lurid ray. He waved his huntsman's cap on high,

Cried, “ Welcome, welcome, noble lord! What sport can earth, or sea, or sky,

To match the princely chase, afford?” “Cease thy loud bugle's clanging knell,”

Cried the fair youth, with silver voice; " And for devotion's choral swell,

Exchange the rude unhallowed noise. “To-day, the ill-omened chase forbear,

Yon bell yet summons to the fane; Co-day the warning spirit hear,

To-morrow thou may'st mourn in vain.” “Away, and sweep the glades along!”

The sable hunter hoarse replies; To muttering monks leave matin song,

And bells, and books, and mysteries.' The wildgrave spurred his ardent steed,

And, lanching forward with a bound, “Who, for thy drowsy priest-like rede,

Would leave the jovial horn and hound? “ Hence, if our manly sport offend!

With pious fools go chant and pray:
Well hast thou spoke, my dark-browed friend;

Halloo, halloo! and, hark away!”
The wildgrave spurred his courser light,

O'er moss and moor, o'er holt and hill;
And on the left, and on the right,

Each stranger horseman followed still. Up springs, from yonder tangled thorn,

A stag more white than mountain snow: And louder rung the wildgrave's horn,

“ Hark forward, forward! holla, ho!” A heedless wretch has crossed the way;

He gasps, the thundering hoofs below: But, live who can, or die who may,

Still, “Forward, forward!” on they go. See, where yon simple fences meet,

A field with autumn's blessings crowned; See, prostrate at the wildgrave's feet,

A husbandman, with toil embrowned: “O mercy, mercy, poble lord!

Spare the poor's pittance," was his cry, “ Earned by the sweat these brows have poured,

In scorching hour of fierce July." Earnest the right hand stranger pleads, The left still cheering to the prey,

The impetuous earl no warning heeds,

But furious holds the onward way. “ Away, thou hound! so basely born,

Or dread the scourge's echoing blow!"
Then loudly rung his

bugle horn,
“Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!"
So said, so done: a single bound

Clears the poor labourer's humble pale: Wild follows man, and horse, and hound,

Like dark December's stormy gale. And man, and horse, and hound, and horn,

Destructive sweep the field along; While joying o'er the wasted corn,

Fell Famine marks the maddening throng. Again uproused, the timorous prey

Scours moss, and moor, and holt, and hill; Hard run, he feels his strength decay,

And trusts for life his simple skill. Too dangerous solitude appeared;

He seeks the shelter of the crowd; Amid the flock's domestic herd

His harmless head he hopes to shroud. O'er moss, and moor, and holt, and hill,

His track the steady blood-hounds trace; O'er moss and moor, unwearied still,

The furious earl pursues the chase. Full lowly did the herdsman fall;

“O spare, thou noble baron, spare These herds, a widow's little all;

These flocks, an orphan's fleecy care." Earnest the right-hand stranger pleads,

The left still cheering to the prey; The earl nor prayer nor pity heeds,

But furious keeps the onward way. “ Unmannered dog! To stop my sport

Vain were thy cant and beggar whine, Though human spirits, of thy sort,

Were tenants of these carrion kine!” Again he winds his bugle horn,

* Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!” And through the herd, in ruthless scorn,

He cheers his furious hounds to go. In heaps the throttled victims fall;

Down sinks their mangled herdsman near; The murderous cries the stag appal,

Again he starts, new nerved by fear. With blood besmeared, and white with foam,

While big the tears of anguish pour, He seeks, amid the forest's gloom,

The humble hermit's hallowed bower. But man and horse, and horn and hound,

Fast rattling on his traces go; The sacred chapel rung around

With, “ Hark away! and, holla, ho!” All mild, amid the rout profane,

The boly hermit poured his prayer; “ Forbear with blood God's house to stain;

Revere his altar, and forbear! “The meanest brute has rights to plead,

Which, wronged by cruelty, or pride, Draw vengeance on the ruthless head:

Be warned 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,

Appalled xc signs the frequent cross, 'Thy altar, and its rites, I spuru;

When the wild din invades his ears. Not sainted martyrs' sacred song,

The wakeful priest oft drops a tear Not God himself, shall make me turn!”

For human pride, for human wo, He spurs his horse, he winds his horn,

When, at his midnight mass, he hears “Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!”

The infernal cry of “ Holla, ho!”
But off, on whirlwind's pinions borne,
The stag, the hut, the hermit, go.


Imitated from the Lenore" of Bürger. And horse, and man, and horn, and hound,

The author had resolved to omit the following And clamour of the chase was gone;

version of a well-known poem, in any collection For hoofs, and howls, and bugle sound,

which he might make of his poetical trifles. But A deadly silence reigned alone.

the publishers having pleaded for its admission, Wild gazed the affrighted earl around; the author has consented, though not unaware of He strove in vain to wake his horn;

the disadvantage at which this youthful essay (for In vain to call; for not a sound

it was written in 1795) must appear with those Could from his anxious lips be borne. which have been executed by much more able He listens for his trusty hounds;

hands, in particular that of Mr. Taylor of NorNo distant baying reached his ears:

wich, and that of Mr. Spencer. His courser, rooted to the ground,

The following translation was written long beThe quickening spur unmindful bears.

fore the author saw any other, and originated in the

following circumstances. A lady of high rank in Still dark and darker frown the shades, the literary world read this romantic tale, as transDark, as the darkness of the grave;

lated by Mr. Taylor, in the house of the celebratAnd not a sound the still invades,

ed professor Dugald'Stuart of Edinburgh. The auSave what a distant torrent gave.

thor was not present, nor indeed in Edinburgh at High o'er the sinner's humbled head

the time; but a gentleman who had the pleasure At length the solemn silence broke;

of hearing the ballad, afterwards told him the And from a cloud of swarthy red,

story, and repeated the remarkable chorus,1'he awful voice of thunder spoke.

“ Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode, “ Oppressor of creation fair!

Splash! splash! along the sea;

Hurrah! hurrah! the dead can ride! Apostate spirit's hardened tool!

Dost fear to ride with me?" corner of God! Scourge of the poor!

In attempting a translation, then intended only The measure of thy cup is full.

to circulate among friends, the present author did “ Be chased forever through the wood;

not hesitate to make use of this impressive stanza; For ever roam the affrighted wild;

for which freedom he has since obtained the forAnd let thy fate instruct the proud,

giveness of the ingenious gentleman to whom it God's meanest creature is his child." properly belongs. 'Twas hushed: one flash, of sombre glare, From heavy dreams fair Helen rose, With yellow tinged the forests brown;

And ey'd the dawning red: Up rose the wildgrave's bristling hair,

“ Alas, my love, thou tarriest long! And horror chilled each nerve and bone.

O art thou false or dead?”
Cold poured the sweat in freezing rill; With gallant Frederick’s princely power
A rising wind began to sing;

He sought the bold crusade;
And louder, louder, louder still,

But not a word from Judah's wars Brought storm and tempest on its wing.

Told Helen how he sped. Earth heard the call! Her entrails rend;

With Paynim and with Saracen From yawning rifts, with many a yell,

At length a truce was made, Mixed with sulphureous flames, ascend

And every knight returned to dry The misbegotten dogs of hell.

The tears his love had shed. What ghastly Huntsman next arose,

Our gallant host was homeward bound Well may I guess, but dare not tell;

With many a song of joy; His eye like midnight lightning glows,

Green wav'd the laurel in each plume,
His steed the swarthy hue of hell.

The badge of victory.
The wildgrave flies o'er bush and thorn, And old and young, and sire and son,
With many a shriek of helpless wo;

To meet them crowd the way,
Behind him hound, and horse, and horn, With shouts, and mirth, and melody,
And, “ Hark away, and holla, ho!”

The debt of love to pay.
With wild despair's reverted eye,

Full many a maid her true love met,
Close, close behind, he marks the throng, And sobb'd in his embrace,
With bloody fangs, and eager cry,

And flutt'ring joy in tears and smiles,
In frantic fear he scours along.

Array'd full many a face. Still, still shall last the dreadful chase,

Nor joy nor smile for Helen sad;
Till time itself shall have an end

She sought the host in vain;
By day, they scour earth's caverened space, For none could tell her William's fate,
At midnight's witching hour, ascend.

If faithless, or if slain.
This is the horn, and hound, and horse, The martial band is past and gone;
That oft the lated peasant hears;

She rends her raven hair,

And in distraction's bitter mood

She wecps with wild despair. “ O rise, my child,” her mother said,

« Nor sorrow thus in vain; A perjured lover's fleeting heart

No tears recal again.”
“O mother, what is gone is gone;

What's lost for ever lorn:
Death, death alone can comfort me;

had I ne'er been born!
“O break, my heart, O break at once!

Drink my life-blood, despair! No joy remains on earth for me,

For me in heaven no share.”
“) enter not in judgment, Lord!”

The pious mother prays;
Impute not guilt to thy frail child,

She knows not what she says. “O say thy pater-noster, child!

() turn to God and grace! His will, that turn'd thy bliss to bale,

Can change thy bale to bliss.” “O mother, mother, what is bliss?

O mother, what is bale! My William's love was heaven on earth,

Without it earth is hell. “Why should I pray to ruthless heav'n,

Since my lov'd William's slain? I only pray'd for William's sake,

And all my prayers were vain.” “O take the sacrament, my child,

And check these tears that flow; By resignation's humble prayer,

O hallowed be thy wo!” “No sacrament can quench this fire,

Or slake this scorching pain; No sacrament can bid the dead

Arise and live again. “) break, my heart, O break at once!

Be thou my god, despair! Heaven's heaviest blow has fall’n on me,

And vain each fruitless prayer.' “O enter not in judgment, Lord,

With thy frail child of clay! She knows not what her tongue has spoke;

Impute it not, I pray! “Forbear, my child, this desp’rate wo,

And turn to God and grace; Well can devotion's heavenly glow

Convert thy bale to bliss. “O mother, mother, what is bliss?

O mother, what is bale? Without my William what were heaven,

Or with him what were hell?”
Wild she arraigns the eternal doom,

Upbraids each sacred power,
Till spent, she sought her silent room,

All in the lonely tower.
She beat her breast, she wrung her hands,

Till sun and day were o'er,
And through the glimm'ring lattice shone

The twinkling of the star.
Then crash! the heavy draw-bridge fell,

'That o'er the moat was hung; And clatter! clatter! on its boards

The hoof of courser rung.

The clank of echoing steel was heard,

As off the rider bounded,
And slowly on the winding-stair

A heavy footstep sounded.
And hark! and hark! a knock-Tap! tap!

A rustling stifled noise;
Door-latch and tinkling staples ring;

At length a whisp'ring voice.
“ Awake, awake, arise, my love!

How, Helen, dost thou fare? Wak'st thou or sleep’st? laugh’st thou or weep'st?

Hast thought on me, my fair?”
“My love! my love!-so late by night!-

I wak’d, I wept for thee:
Much have I borne since dawn of morn;

Where, William, could'st thou be?“ We saddled late-From Hungary

I rode since darkness fell;
And to its bourne we both return

Before the matin bell."
"O rest this night within my arms,

And warm thee in their fold! Chill howls through hawthorn bush the wind;

My love is deadly cold.” “Let the wind howl through hawthern bush!

This night we must away;
The steed is wight, the spur is bright;

I cannot stay till day. “ Busk, busk, and boune! Thou mount'st behind

Upon my black barb steed:
O'er stock and stile a hundred miles,

We haste to bridal bed.”
“ To-night-to-night a hundred miles! -

O dearest William, stay!
The bell strikes twelve-dark dismal hour.

O wait, my love, till day!” “ Look here, look here-the moon shines clear,

Full fast, I ween, we ride; Mount and away! for ere the day

We reach our bridal bed. “ The black barb snorts, the bridal rings;

Haste, busk, and boune, and seat thee!
The feast is made, the chamber spread,

The bridal guests await thee.
Strong love prevail'd: she busks, she bounes,

She mounts the barb behind,
And round her darling William's waist

Her lily arms she twined.
And hurry! hurry! off they rode,

As fast as fast might be;
Spurn'd from the courser's thundering heels,

The flashing pebbles flee.
And on the right and on the left,

Ere they could snatch a view,
Fast, fast each mountain, mead, and plain,

And cot and castle flew. “ Sit fast-dost fear?- The moon shines clear

Fleet goes my barb-keep hold!
Fear'st thou?”"no!” she faintly said;

“But why so stern and cold?
• What yonder rings? what yonder sings?

Why shrieks the owlet gray?” « 'Tis death-bell's clang, 'tis funeral song,

The body to the clay. “ With song and clang, at morrow's dawn,

Ye may inter the deada

To-night I ride, with my young bride,

“ Hurrah! hurrah! well ride the dead; To deck our bridal bed.

The bride, the bride is come!

And soon we reach the bridal bed, “Come with thy choir, thou coffin'd guest,

For, Helen, here's my home.”
To swell our nuptial song!
Come, priest, to bless our marriage feast! Reluctant on its rusty hinge
Come all, come all along!”

Revolv'd an iron door,

And by the pale moon's setting beam
Ceas'd clang and song; dowu sunk the bier;

Were seen a church and tow'r.
The shrouded corpse arose:
And hurry! hurry! all the train

With many a shriek and cry whiz roun
The thundering steed pursues.

The birds of midnight scared;

And rustling like autumnal leaves,
And forward! forward! on they go;

Unhallow'd ghosts were heard.
High sports the straining steed;
Thick pants the rider's labouring breath, O'er many a tomb and tomb-stone pale
As headlong on they speed.

He spurr'd the fiery horse,

Till sudden at an open grave “O William, why this savage haste?

He check'd the wondrous course. And where thy bridal bed?” “ 'Tis distant far, low, damp, and chill,

The falling gauntlet quits the rein, And narrow, trustless maid.”

Down drops the casque of steel,

The cuirass leaves his shrinking side, “No room for me?”—“Enough for both;

The spur his gory heel.
Speed, speed, my barb, thy course!”
O’er thund'ring bridge, through boiling surge, The eyes desert the naked skull,
He drove the furious horse.

The mould'ring flesh the bone,

Till Helen's lily arms entwine
Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode,
Splash! splash! along the sea;

A ghastly skeleton,
The sconrge is wight, the spur is bright,

The furious barb snorts fire and foam, The flashing pebbles flee.

And, with a fearful bound, Fled past on right and left how fast

Dissolves at once in empty air,

And leaves her on the ground.
Each forest, grove, and bower;
On right and left fled past how fast

Half seen by fits, by fits half heard,
Each city, town, and tower,

Pale spectres fleet along,

Wheel round the maid in dismal dance, “Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear;

And howl the funeral song,
Dost fear to ride with me?-
Hurrah! hurrah! The dead can ride!”

“E’en when the heart's with anguish clefi, “O William, let them be!

Revere the doom of heav'n.

Her soul is from her body reft; “See there, see there! What yonder swings

Her spirit be forgiven!”
And creaks ’mid whistling rain?"
“Gibbet and steel, th' accursed wheel;
A murd'rer in his chain.

THE BATTLE OF SEMPACH. “ Hollo! thou felon, follow here:

These verses are a literal translation of an anTo bridal bed we ride; 4

cient Swiss ballad upon the battle of Sempach, And thou shalt prance a fetter dance

fought 9th July, 1986, being the victory by which Before me and my bride."

the Swiss cantons established their independence.

The author is Albert Tchudi, denominated the And hurry! hurry! clash, clash, clash!

Souter, from his profession of a shoemaker. He The wasted form descends;

was a citizen of Lucerne, esteemed highly among And, fleet as wind through hazel bush,

his countrymen, both for his powers as a Meisies The wild career attends.

singer or minstrel, and his courage as a soldier; Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode, so that he might share the praise conferred by Splash! splash! along the sea;

Collins on Eschylus, that The scourge is red, the spur drops blood,

Not alone he nursed the poet's flame, The flashing pebbles flee.

But reached from Virtue's hand the patriot steel. How fled what moonshine faintly show'd! The circumstance of their being written by a How fled what darkness hid!

poet returning from the well-fought field he deHow fled the earth beneath their feet,

scribes, and in which his country's fortune was seThe heav'n above their head!

cured, may confer on Tchudi's verses an interest “Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear, poetical merit. But ballad poetry, the more lite

which they are not entitled to claim from their And well the dead can ride; Does faithful Helen fear for them?"

rally it is translated, the more it loses its simpli

city, without acquiring either grace or strength; " leave in peace the dead!”

and therefore some of the faults of the verses must " Barb! barb! methinks I hear the cock;

be imputed to the translator's feeling it a duty to The sand will soon be run:

keep as closely as possible to his original. The Barb! barb! I smell the morning air;

various puns, rude attempts at pleasantry, and disThe race is well nigh done.”

proportioned episdoes, must be set down to TchuTramp! tramp! along the land they rode, di's account, or to the taste of his age. Splash! splash! along the sea;

The military antiquary will derive some amuseThe scourge is red, the spur drops blood, ment from the minute particulars which the marThe flashing pebbles flee.

tial poet has recorded." The mode in which the

Austris i men-at-arms received the charge of the " O Hare-castle,* thou heart of hare!” Swiss was by forming a phalanx, which they de- Fierce Oxenstern replied; fended with their long lances. The gallant Wink- “Shalt see then how the game will fare.” elried, who sacrificed his own life by rushing The tauntiog knight replied. among the spears, clasping in his arms as many as

There was lacing then of helmets bright, he could grasp, and thus opening a gap in these

And closing ranks amain; iron battalions, is celebrated in Swiss history.

The peaks they, hew'd from their boot-points When fairly mingled together, the unwieldy length of their weapons, and cumbrous weight of their de

Might well nigh load a wain. + fensive armour, rendered the Austrian men-at-arms And thus, they to each other said, a very unequal match for the light-armed moun- “ Yon handful down to hew taineers. The victories obtained by the Swiss over Will be no boastful tale to tell, the German chivalry, hitherto deemed as formi- The peasants are so few.” dable on foot as on horse-back, led to important

The gallant Swiss confederates there, changes in the art of war. The poet describes the

They pray'd to God aloud, Austrian knights and squires as cutting the peaks

And he display'd his rainbow fair from their boots ere they could act upon foot, in

Against a swarthy cloud. allusion to an inconvenient piece of foppery, often mentioned in the middle ages. Leopold II], archduke

Then heart and pulse throb'd more and more of Austria, called “ The handsome man-at-arms,' With courage firm and high, was slaio in the battle of Sempach, with the flower And down the good confed’rates bore of his chivalry.

On the Austrian chivalry.

The Austrian liont ’gan to growl, 'Twas when among our linden trees

And toss his main and tail; The bees had housed in swarms,

And ball, and shaft, and cross-bow bolt (And gray-hair'd peasants say that these

Went whistling forth like hail. Betoken foreign arms,)

Lance, pike, and halberd, miogled there, Then look'd we down to Willisow,

The game was nothing sweet; The land was all in flame;

The boughs of many a stately tree We knew the archduke Leopold

Lay shiver'd at their feet. With all his army came.

The Austrian men-at-arms stood fast, The Austrian nobles made their vow,

So close their spears they laid: So hot their heart and bold,

st chafed the gallant Winkelried, 66 On Switzer carles we'll trample now,

Who to his comrades saidAnd slay both young and old.”

“I have a virtuous wife at home, With clarion loud, and banner proud,

A wife and infant son; From Zurich on the lake,

I leave them to my country's care, In martial pomp and fair array,

This field shall soon be won. Their onward march they make.

" These nobles lay their spears right thick, “ Now list, ye lowland nobles all,

And keep full firm array,
Ye seek the mountain strand,
Nor wot ye what shall be your lot

Yet shall my charge their order break,

And make my brethren way." In such a dangerous land. “ 1 rede ye, shrive you of your sins,

He rushed against the Austrian band, Before you further go;

In desperate career, A skirmish in Helvetian hills

And with his body, breast, and hand,

Bore down each hostile spear. May send your souls to wo.” “ But where now shall we find a priest,

Four lances splintered on his crest, Or shrift that he may hear?

Six shivered in his side; “ The Switzer priest* has ta'en the field,

Still on the serried files he pressid He deals a penance drear.

He broke their ranks, and died. “ Right heavily upon your head

This patriot's self-devoted deed, He'll lay his hand of steel;

First tamed the lion's mood, And with his trusty partizan

And the four forest cantons freed Your absolution deal.”

From thraldom by his blood. 'Twas on a Monday morning then,

Right where his charge had made a lane, The corn was steep'd in dew,

His valiant comrades burst, And merry maids had sickles ta’en,

With sword, and axe, and partizan, When the host to Sempach drew.

And hack, and stab, and thrust. The stalwart men of fair Lucerne

The daunted lion 'gan to whine, Together have they join'd;

And granted ground amain, The pith and core of manhood stern,

• In the original, Haasenstein, or Hare-stone. Was none cast looks behind.

+This seems to allude to the preposterous fashion, du It was the lord of Hare castle,

ring the middle ages, of wearing boots with the points or

peakes turned upwards, and so long that, in some cases, And to the duke he said,

they were fastened to the knees of the wearer with small 6 Yon little band of brethren true

chains. When they alighted to fight upon foot, it would Will meet us undismay’d.”

secm that the Austrian gentlemen found it necessary to

cut off these peaks, that they might move with the neces. All the Swiss clergy who were able to bear arms fought sary activity. in this patriotic war.

A pun on the a:ehduke's name, Leopold.

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