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He sings of Fatherland, the minstrel's glory—
High theme of memory and hope divine— Twining its fame with gems of antique story, In Suabian songs and legends of the Rhine;
Well do they know his name among the mountains,
In ballads breathing many a dim tradition,
And plains and valleys, of his native land; Part of their nature are the sparkling fountains
Of his clear thought, with rainbow fancies spanned.
His simple lays oft sings the mother, cheerful,
His plaintive notes low breathes the maiden,
With tender murmurs in the ear of night.
The hillside swain, the reaper in the mead
Carol bis ditties through the toilsome day; And the lone hunter in the Alpine shadows Recalls his ballads by some ruin gray.
O precious gift! O wondrous inspiration!
Out of the depths of feeling and emotion
Wide is its magic world-divided neither
By continent, nor sea, nor narrow zone; Who would not wish sometimes to travel thither,
In fancied fortunes to forget his own?
THE GRAVE OF A POETESS.
Just within hearing of some village-bell,
Passed from the earth before our wiser Then o'er her grave the star-paved sky will
For silence may impair, but cannot kill
The music that is native to thy soul; Nor thy sweet mind, in this thy froward will, Upon thy purest honor have control: But, since thou wilt not to our wishes sing, This truth I speak-thou art of poets king.
THE dreamy rhymer's measured snore Falls heavy on our ears no more; And by long strides are left behind The dear delights of womankind, Who wage their battles like their loves, In satin waistcoats and kid gloves, And have achieved the crowning work When they have trussed and skewered a Turk. Another comes with stouter tread, And stalks among the statelier dead: He rushes on, and hails by turns High-crested Scott, broad-breasted Burns; And shows the British youth, who ne'er Will lag behind, what Romans were, When all the Tuscans and their Lars Shouted, and shook the towers of Mars. WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR.
BARDS of Passion and of Mirth,
Thus ye live on high, and then On the earth ye live again; And the souls ye left behind you Teach us, here, the way to find you, Where your other souls are joying, Never slumbered, never cloying. Here your earth-born souls still speak To mortals, of their little week; Of their sorrows and delights; Of their passions and their spites; Of their glory and their shame; What doth strengthen and what maim. Thus ye teach us, every day, Wisdom, though fled far away.
Bards of Passion and of Mirth, Ye have left your souls on earth! Ye have souls in heaven too, Double-lived in regions new!
"WHAT Voice, what harp, are those we hear WHо best can paint th' enamelled robe of Beyond the gate in chorus?
With flow'rets and fair blossoms well bedight;
Who best can her melodious accents sing, With which she greets the soft return of light;
Go, page!-the lay delights our ear;
Bring in the hoary minstrel!"
"Hail, princes mine! Hail, noble knights!
Who best can bid the quaking tempest rage, And make th' imperial arch of Heav'n to groan
All hail, enchanting dames!
What starry heaven! What blinding lights! Breed warfare with the winds, and finely
Whose tongue may tell their names?
In this bright hall, amid this blaze,
The minnesinger closed his eyes;
Be given the bard in guerdon.
"Not so! Reserve thy chain, thy gold,
For those brave knights whose glances, Fierce flashing through the battle bold,
Might shiver sharpest lances! Bestow it on thy treasurer thereThe golden burden let him bear
With other glittering burdens.
"I sing as in the greenwood bush
Of glowing gold, be brought me !"
They set it down; he quaffs it all—
"O! draught of richest flavor! O! thrice divinely happy hall
Where that is scarce a favor!
For this delicious wine-cup!"
Great strife with Neptune on his rocky throne
Or lose us in those sad and mournful days
Shall bear the prize, and in his true essays
For whom let wine his mortal woes beguile,
A POET'S THOUGHT.
TELL me, what is a poet's thought?
Or by whispering morn?
Was it cradled in the brain?
Chained awhile, or nursed in night?
No more question of its birth:
Rather love its better part!