They sing of spring-tide and of love--the age ere wo began- All lovely things they celebrate, that heave the human breast, The troop of courtiers gather round, their scorn forgotten now- "My people he has led away, will he corrupt my wife?" As if a storm had scattered them, the hearers fled away. But now before the lofty gates the hoary minstrel stands, "Wo, wo to you, ye lofty halls, no sweet and soothing tone "Wo to you all, ye gardens sweet, in the May month's pleasant light- "Wo to thee, ruthless murderer! of minstrelsy the pest; The old man's voice has died away, but Heav'n has heard his cry Around, where once the garden smiled, is now a desert land, The Ferry" is a little poem which gives a very fair impression of some of the most marked peculiarities of Uhland's manner. He delights in summoning from "the dim mysterious past" the scenes, the thoughts and feelings of that happier time, when the vivid imagination of youth had power to clothe and comparing the pictures which hope and fancy then portrayed, with the harsh realities into which experience has since transmuted them. As the contrast of the present with the past generally suggests reflections of a somewhat mournful character, inasmuch as the advancing footsteps of time are constantly crushing some flower that bloomed in our pathway, whose frail life we fondly deemed of perennial duration, the heart of the poet whose sympa thies and feelings lie garnered up among the records of departed years, of which his song is but the echo, must often be touched with a sentiment of sadness at the retrospect. THE FERRY. Many a year is past and o'er, Then our passengers were three- • One a life of quiet pass'd, So, when o'er those happy days, That which ev'ry friendship binds, Take, then, boatman, thrice thy fee- Two whom thou hast ferried o'er, "The Ride by Night" exhibits the same peculiarity. I ride thro' the darksome land afar, Uncheer'd by moonbeam or twinkling star, Cold tempests around me lowering; Often before have I pass'd this way, When the golden sunshine smiling lay Among roses freshly flow'ring. I ride to the gloomy garden ground, The steps of my fair one tending. Extinguished now is the sun's glad ray, The roses have wither'd and died away, And the grave my belov'd is holding; My darksome journey I now pursue, In the wintry storm, with no star in view, My mantle around me folding. "The Shepherd" is a lay of the middle ages, short and simple-its moral the motto of all things earthly-" passing away." 'Twas near a kingly castle wall, "Oh! might I venture down with thee,” The youth, in answer, thus replied: "Oh! would'st thou come with me? Fair glow those rosy cheeks of thine, Those arms-can whiter be ?" And now each morn, in silent grief, This friendly greeting then he sent : "Hail! maid of royal line." A gentle answer echoed soon Thanks, gentle shepherd mine." The winter pass'd, the spring appear'd, The flow'rs bloomed rich and fair; The castle bounds he sought again, But she no more was there. In sorrowing tones, he cried aloud, "Adieu! thou shepherd mine." "The Wreath" is a charming little fairy story, told with exquisite delicacy and simplicity. Though the "sterner stuff" of manhood may pass it by as an idle fable, destitute of sense or significance, it will, in all probability, be regarded with favor by the fairer portion of our readers, whose quick perception will soon enable them to unveil its meaning, though expressed in allegorical language. THE WREATH. A maiden on a sunny glade, Was gath'ring flow'rs of varied hue; There came from out the greenwood shade A lady fair to view. She join❜d the maid, in friendly guise, And twined a wreathlet in her hair: "Tho' barren now, flow'rs hence will riseOh! wear it ever there." And as the maiden grew in years, And walked by moonlight sheen, Indulging soft and tender tears, To bud the wreath was seen. And when at length her own true knight Soon in the mother's arms was seen But when, alas! her love was laid She follow'd soon; the wreath still graced And now, strange sight! together placed Grew fruits and blossoms too. "Harald" is a legend of the days of Oberon and Titania, when the "small people," for mirth or mischief, used to play tricks on benighted travellers, and bind with invisible fetters, strong as the chain of destiny, all obnoxious trespassers on their greenwood domains. HARALD. With martial train did Harald ride, Around his march the moonbeams shone, Oh! many a gorgeous banner there And many a battle song is heard, What lurks and rustles in each bush? Moves upon ev'ry spray? What throws the blossoms here and there? Whence come these kisses, soft and sweet? These arms so gently prest? It is a sprightly band of fays; Already ev'ry warrior there The chief alone remains behindHarald, the bold true knight; From top to toe his form appears In polished steel bedight. His warriors all have disappeared- In heavy sadness thereupon He hears a purling 'mid the rocks, Dismounts with hasty fling, Unclasps his helmet from his head, And quaffs the cooling spring. Scarce has the chieftain quench'd his thirst, There sleeps and slumbers on. He's slumbered on the self-same stone, Thro' ages past away; Upon his breast his head is sunk, His beard and locks are gray. When lightnings flash, and thunders roll, The "Dream" is decidedly Uhlandish. THE DREAM. Join'd hand in hand, a loving pair Each kissed the other's pallid face, Sweet mutual kisses sped; They stood entwined in close embrace; Then grief and languor fled. Two little bells rang sharp and clear- The "Monk and the Shepherd" has a certain picturesqueness about it, which brings the scene depicted as vividly before the eye as if it had been portrayed by the sister art. THE MONK AND THE SHEPHERD. MONK. "Why stand'st thou thus, in silent grief? SHEPHERD. "And dost thou ask? oh! look below The wide expanse is flowerless all, MONK. "Yet sorrow not-what is thy grief? "Then plant the cross, to which I kneel, It boasts nor fruit nor flow'r, but bears The "Robber" seems like a sketch of one of the bold outlaws of Sherwood Forest. The portrait would be no disgrace to Robin Hood himself. "Twas on a pleasant day in spring, A robber left the greenwood shade, When lo! along the rugged path, Came tripping by a gentle maid. "If 'stead of these wild flowers of May," Thus spoke the forest's dauntless son, "Thy basket bore the wealth of kings, Thou should'st in safety journey on.' The beauteous pilgrim's parting form Soon 'mid the garden's lavish blooms, The "Landlady's Daughter" is one of the most popular of German songs, and is said to be a great favorite among the students of the various universities. We have either read somewhere, or the idea is our own, that a political meaning is couched in these verses, the dead daughter representing the spirit of German freedom, and the exclamations uttered by the three students respectively, the sentiments with which its loss is regarded by different minds. Once over the Rhine three students strayed, "Oh! landlady, hast thou good beer and wine, And where is that fair little daughter of thine ?" 66 'My wine and beer are fresh and clear; As into the chamber they took their way, Then quickly putting the death-veil by, "Oh! would thou wert living, fair maiden," "Forever henceforth, my beloved thou should'st The second the veil o'er the features cast, "Alas! that thou li'st on thy cold death-bierThou whom I've loved for so many a year." The third quickly lifted again the veil, I love thee to-day, as through all the past- Here is a ballad of the days of the Northmen, containing more strength and nerve than is commonly found in Uhland's poems. THE BLIND KING. Why stands, on yonder hilly shore, that band of Northmen bold? "Give, robber, back, my child to me, from out thy dungeon cleft; Forth from his cavern, fierce and tall, the robber stood reveal'd, Yet not a warrior leaves the ranks, nor maketh one reply; "Oh! son, the foe is giant strong, and none his might withstand, The deep abyss sends o'er the sea a roaring, surging sound, ? Full soon the old king blithely cries, "Oh! what can now be seen 66 Then hail to thee, of heroes chief, thou monarch's valiant son." Again 'tis silent all; the monarch stands with list'ning ear: "A rushing sound, as if of oars, across the waves I hear." 66 Returning now they're bringing back thy son with spear and shield— A welcome from the lofty rock the hoary monarch gave: "Lines to a Nameless One" are somewhat sentimental, and decidedly German in spirit; but pure in feeling and pleasing in expression. Upon a mountain's summit, Oh! might I stand with thee, Where vernal glories shine, "dead but sceptred sovereigns THE MINSTREL'S RETURN. They place around, in fair, white scrolls, The harp that late so clearly rang. Tho' sunk in death's oblivious sleep, For him, the lordly, past away. |