SIR CARL, THE CLOISTER ROBBER.

THIS is given as a specimen of the old Swedish ballads. The last line of the first stanza was repeated at the end of each following stanza. Sir Carl he in to his foster-mother went,

And much her rede he prayed:
"Say how from that cloister I may win

My own, my dearest maid."

But Sir Carl alone he sleepeth.

"Lay thee down as sick, lay thee down as dead,
On thy bier all straight be laid;

So then thou canst from that cloister win
Thy own, thy dearest maid!"

And in the little pages came,

All clad in garments blue:

"An' please ye, fair virgin, i' th' chapel to go,

Sir Carl on 's bier to view?"

And in the little pages came,

All clad in garments red:

"An' please ye, fair virgin, i' th' chapel to wend,

And see how Sir Carl lies dead?"

And in the little pages came,

All clad in garments white:

"An' please ye, fair virgin, i' th' chapel to tread
Where Sir Carl lies in state so bright?"

And the maid she in to her foster-mother went,
And much 'gan her rede to speer;
"Ah! may I but into the chapel go,
Sir Carl there to see on his bier?"

"Nay, sure I'll give thee now no rede,
Nor yet deny I thee:

But if to the chapel to-night thou goest,
Sir Carl deceiveth thee!"

And the virgin trod within the door,
Sun-like she shone so mild;

But Sir Carl's false heart within his breast
It lay on the bier and smiled!

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And the virgin up to his head she stepped,
But his fair locks she ne'er sees move:
"Ah, me! while here on earth thou liv'dst,
Thou dearly didst me love!"

And the virgin down to his feet she went,
And lifts the linen white:

"Ah me! while here on earth thou liv'dst,
Thou wert my heart's delight!"

And the virgin then to the door she went,
And good-night bade her sisters last;
But Sir Carl, who upon his bier was laid,
He sprang up and held her fast!

"Now carry out my bier again,

Come pour the mead and wine;
For to-morrow shall my wedding stand
With this sweetheart dear of mine!"

And the cloister-nuns, the cloister-nuns,
They read within their book:

"Some angel, sure, it was from heaven,
Who hence our sister took!"

And the cloister-nuns, the cloister-nuns,
They sang each separatelie:

"O Christ! that such an angel came,
And took both me and thee!"
But Sir Carl alone he sleepeth.

CARL M. BELLMAN.

CARL MICHAEL BELLMAN, the Anacreon, or rather the Béranger of Sweden, was born at Stockholm in 1740. His father was a court official, and the son, who "lisped in numbers," had an excellent education. His early poems were religious, but after his admission to the University of Upsala, he wrote a satire, "The Moon." In boyhood he had learned to play on the zither, and it became his habit to compose songs to melodies of his own creation. Without effort of his own, these songs found a wide circulation. Utterly careless of business or money, Bellman was ever in difficulties until Gustavus III., recognizing his talent, made him court secre

tary, the duties of the place being discharged by an assistant. Thus freed of care, he became the king's boon companion and repaid his generosity with numerous songs. He had the gift of improvising, and left the task of preserving his lyrics to his friends. When Gustavus was assassinated, Bellman's summer was at an end. Oppressed with illness and poverty, he was sent to prison for debt, but eventually released by some friends, who merely asked for a song, which he readily gave. He died in 1795. His statue stands in the public square at Stockholm, but his songs still live in the mouths of the people.

UP, AMARYLLIS!

WAKEN, thou fair one! up, Amaryllis!

Morning so still is,

Cool is the gale.

The rainbow of heaven,

With its hues seven,

Brightness hath given

To wood and dale.

Sweet Amaryllis, let me convey thee,

In Neptune's arms nought shall affray thee;
Sleep's god no longer power has to stay thee,
Over thy eyes and speech to prevail.

Come out a-fishing; nets are forth carrying;
Come, without tarrying,

Hasten with me.

Jerkin and veil in,

Come for the sailing;

For trout and grayling

Baits will lay we.

Awake, Amaryllis! dearest, awaken;

Let me not go forth by thee forsaken;

Our course among dolphins and sirens taken,

Onward shall paddle our boat to the sea.

Bring rod and line, bring nets for the landing;

Morn is expanding,

Hasten away!

Sweet, no denying,

Frowning or sighing.

Couldst thou be trying

To answer me nay!

Hence, on the shallows our little boat leaving,
On to the Sound where green waves are heaving,
Where our true love its first bond was weaving,
Causing to Thyrsis so much dismay.

Step in the boat, then! both of us singing,
Love afresh springing

O'er us shall reign.

If the storm rages,

If it war wages,
Thy love assuages
Terror and pain.

Calm 'mid the billows' wildest commotion,
I would defy, on thy bosom, the ocean,
Or would attend thee to death with devotion.
Sing, O ye sirens, and mimic my strain!

DRINK OUT THY GLASS.

DRINK out thy glass! Lo, on thy threshold, nightly,
Staying his sword, stands Death, awaiting thee.
Be not alarmed; the grave-door, opened slightly,
Closes again. A full year it may be

Ere thou art dragged, poor sufferer, to the grave.
Pick the octave !

Tune up the strings! Sing of life with glee!

Yellow's the hue thy dull wan cheeks are showing; Shrunken thy chest, and flat each shoulder blade. Give me thy hand! Each dark vein, larger growing, Is to my touch as if in water laid.

Damp are these hands; stiff are these veins becoming. Pick now, and strumming,

Empty thy bottle! Sing! Drink unafraid.

Hail then, my boy! Old Bacchus sends last greeting;
Freya's farewell receive thou over thy bowl.

Fast in her praise thy thin blood flows, repeating
Its old-time force, as it was wont to roll.

Sing, read, forget. Nay, think and weep while thinking.
Art thou for drinking

Another bottle? Art dead? Peace to thy soul!

THE most famous of Swedish writers is Bishop Esaias Tegnér.

Born in 1782, the son of a village pastor, he was educated at the University of Lund, and taught there until 1824. The stirring events of his time quickened his poetic genius, and his war-song for the army of 1808 was received with popular acclaim. This was quickly followed by the patriotic poem "Svea." A Gothic League was formed by the literary patriots under the leadership of Tegnér. They opposed both the imitators of French classicists and the German romanticists. Their magazine, Iduna,* urged the study of Norse history and literature. To it, besides minor poems, Tegnér contributed his romance of "Axel," the idyll of "The Children of the Lord's Supper," and above all his modernized version of "Frithiof's Saga." This poetic revival of Scandinavian antiquity won Goethe's approval and gave Tegnér fame throughout Europe. It has been rendered in English by Longfellow and others. As a reward at home, the author was made Bishop of Wexiö in 1824. Though he had not been previously ordained, he accepted the place with some misgivings, for he is said to have been in love with the beautiful wife of a town councillor. After faithfully performing his ecclesiastical duties for some years, he became melancholy, and, in 1840, insane. During his convalescence in Schleswig he began an epic poem, "Kronbruden," but left it unfinished. He died in 1846.

*Iduna, in Scandinavian mythology, was the goddess of youth and guarded the apples, which supplied the drink of the gods.