FREDERICK AND ALICE.

FRED'RICK leaves the land of France,
Homeward hastes his steps to measure;
Careless casts the parting glance
On the scene of former pleasure ;

Joying in his prancing steed,

Keen to prove his untried blade, Hope's gay dreams the soldier lead Over mountain, moor, and glade.

Helpless, ruined, left forlorn,

Lovely Alice wept alone;

Mourned o'er love's fond contract torn,
Hope, and peace, and honor flown.

Mark her breast's convulsive throbs!
See, the tear of anguish flows!
Mingling soon with bursting sobs,
Loud the laugh of frenzy rose.

Wild she cursed, and wild she prayed;
Seven long days and nights are o'er:

Death in pity brought his aid,

As the village bell struck four.

Far from her, and far from France,
Faithless Fred'rick onward rides:
Marking, blithe, the morning's glance
Mantling o'er the mountain's sides.

Heard ye not the boding sound,
As the tongue of yonder tower
Slowly, to the hills around,

Told the fourth, the fated hour?

Starts the steed, and snuffs the air,
Yet no cause of dread appears ;
Bristles high the rider's hair,

Struck with strange mysterious fears.

Desp'rate, as his terrors rise,

In the steed the spur he hides; From himself in vain he flies; Anxious, restless, on he rides.

Seven long days, and seven long nights, Wild he wandered, wo the while! Ceaseless care, and causeless fright, Urge his footsteps many a mile.

Dark the seventh sad night descends;
Rivers swell, and rain-streams pour;
While the deaf'ning thunder lends
All the terrors of its roar.

Weary, wet, and spent with toil,

Where his head shall Fred'rick hide?

Where, but in yon ruined aisle,

By the lightning's flash descried?

To the portal, dank and low,

Fast his steed the wand'rer bound;

Down a ruined staircase slow,

Next his darkling way he wound.

Long drear vaults before him lie; Glimm'ring lights are seen to glide! "Blessed Mary, hear my cry!

Deign a sinner's steps to guide !”

Often lost their quiv'ring beam,
Still the lights move slow before,
Till they rest their ghastly gleam
Right against an iron door.

Thund'ring voices from within,

Mixed with peals of laughter, rose

As they fell, a solemn strain

Lent its wild and wondrous close!

'Midst the din, he seemed to hear

Voice of friends, by death removed;

Well he knew that solemn air,
'Twas the lay that Alice loved.

Hark! for now a solemn knell

Four times on the still night broke; Four times, at its deadened swell, Echoes from the ruins spoke.

As the lengthened clangors die,
Slowly opes the iron door!
Straight a banquet met his eye,
But a funeral's form it wore!

Coffins for the seats extend;

All with black the board was spread

Girt by parent, brother, friend,

Long since numbered with the dead!

Alice, in her grave-clothes bound,
Ghastly smiling, points a seat;
All arose, with thund'ring sound;
All th' expected stranger greet.

High their meagre arms they wave, Wild their notes of welcome swell; Welcome, traitor, to the grave!

Perjured, bid the light farewell! "

THE WILD HUNTSMEN.

THE Wildgrave winds his bugle-horn,
To horse, to horse! halloo, halloo!
His fiery courser snuffs the morn,

And thronging serfs their lord pursue.

The eager pack, from couples freed,

Dash through the bush, the brier, the brake ; While answ'ring 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,
Two 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.