Of the merry Franks:
But no blade of them all
Fought so bravely as Ludovic.
From the German. Tr. W. Taylor.
EFORE Saint Anno
BEFORE
Six were sainted
Of our holy bishops;
Like the seven stars,
They shall shine from heaven.
Purer and brighter
Is the light of Anno
Than a hyacinth set in a golden ring.
This darling man
We will have for a pattern;
And those that would grow
In virtue and trustiness
Shall dress by him as at a mirror.
As the sun in the air,
Which goes between heaven and earth,
Glitters to both:
So went Bishop Anno
Between God and man.
Such was his virtue in the palace,
That the empire obeyed him.
He behaved with honor to both sides,
And was counted among the first barons.
At worship, in his gestures,
He was awful as an angel.
Many a man knew his goodness;
Hear what were his manners:
His words were frank and open;
He spoke truth, fearing no man.
Like a lion he sat among princes,
Like a lamb he walked among the needy.
To the unruly he was sharp,
To the gentle he was mild.
Widows and orphans
Praised him always.
Preaching and praying
Nobody could do better.
To be worthy of such a bishop.
From the German. Tr. W. Taylor.
ARK, while I sing! our village clock
The hour of Eight, good sirs, has struck.
Eight souls alone from death were kept,
When God the earth with deluge swept:
Unless the Lord to guard us deign,
Man wakes and watches all in vain.
Lord! through thine all-prevailing might,
Do thou vouchsafe us a good night!
Hark, while I sing! our village clock
The hour of Nine, good sirs, has struck.
Nine lepers cleansed returned not;
Be not thy blessings, man, forgot!
Unless the Lord to guard us deign,
Man wakes and watches all in vain.
Lord! through thine all-prevailing might,
Do thou vouchsafe us a good night!
Hark, while I sing! our village clock
The hour of Ten, good sirs, has struck.
Ten precepts show God's holy will; -
O, may we prove obedient still!
Unless the Lord to guard us deign,
Man wakes and watches all in vain.
Lord through thine all-prevailing might,
Do thou vouchsafe us a good night!
Hark, while I sing! our village clock
The hour Eleven, good sirs, has struck.
Eleven apostles remained true; ·
May we be like that faithful few!
Unless the Lord to guard us deign,
Man wakes and watches all in vain.
Lord through thine all-prevailing might,
Do thou vouchsafe us a good night!
Hark, while I sing! our village clock
The hour of Twelve, good sirs, has struck.
Twelve is of Time the boundary; -
Man, think upon Eternity!
Unless the Lord to guard us deign,
Man wakes and watches all in vain.
Lord through thine all-prevalling might, Do thou vouchsafe us a good night!
Hark, while I sing! our village clock
The hour of One, good sirs, has struck.
One God alone reigns over all;
Naught can without his will befall:
Unless the Lord to guard us deigu,
Man wakes and watches all in vain.
Lord! through thine all-prevailing might,
Do thou vouchsafe us a good night!
Hark, while I sing! our village clock
The hour of Two, good sirs, has struck.
Two ways to walk has man been given:
Teach me the right, the path to heaven!
Unless the Lord to guard us deign,
Man wakes and watches all in vain.
Lord! through thine all-prevailing might,
Do thou vouchsafe us a good night!
Hark, while I sing! our village clock
The hour of Three, good sirs, has struck.
Three Gods in one, exalted most,
The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Unless the Lord to guard us deign,
Man wakes and watches all in vain.
Lord! through thine all-prevailing might,
Do thou vouchsafe us a good night!
Hark, while I sing! our village clock The hour of Four, good sirs, has struck.
Four seasons crown the farmer's care; -
Thy heart with equal toil prepare!
Up, up! awake, nor slumber on!
The morn approaches, night is gone!
Thank God, who by his power and might
Has watched and kept us through this night! From the German.
HE last faint twinkle now goes out
Up in the poet's attic;
And the roysterers, in merry rout,
Speed home with steps erratic.
Soft from the house-roofs showers the snow,
The vane creaks on the steeple,
The lanterns wag and glimmer low
In the storm by the hurrying people.
The houses all stand black and still,
The churches and taverns deserted,
And a body may now wend at his will,
With his own fancies diverted.
Not a squinting eye now looks this way,
Not a slanderous mouth is dissembling,
And a heart that has slept the livelong day
May now love and hope witli trembling.
Dear Night! thou foe to each base end,
While the good still a blessing prove thee,
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