Nils Juel gave heed to the tempest's roar, He hoisted his blood-red flag once more, And shouted loud, through the tempest's rear, "Fly!" shouted they, "for shelter, fly! North Sea a glimpse of Wessel rent Then champions to thine arms were sent; From Denmark, thunders Tordenskiol', Path of the Dane to fame and might! Receive thy friend, who, scorning flight, And amid pleasures and alarms, Nils Juel was a celebrated Danish Admiral, and Peder Wessel, a Vice-Admiral, who for his great prowess received the popular title of Tordenskiold, or Thunder-shield. In childhood he was a tailor's apprentice, and rose to his high rank before the age of twenty-eight, when he was killed in a duel. THE HAPPIEST LAND. FRAGMENT OF A MODERN BALLAD FROM THE GERMAN. THERE sat one day in quiet, The landlord's daughter filled their cups, Then sat they all so calm and still, And spake not one rude word. But, when the maid departed, And cried, all hot and flushed with wine, "Long live the Swabian land! "The greatest kingdom upon earth "Ha!" cried a Saxon, laughing, — And dashed his beard with wine; "I had rather live in Lapland, Than that Swabian land of thine! "The goodliest land on all this earth, It is the Saxon land! There have I as many maidens As fingers on this hand!" "Hold your tongues! both Swabian and Saxon!" A bold Bohemian cries; If there's a heaven upon this earth, In Bohemia it lies. "There the tailor blows the flute, And then the landlord's daughter 66 And said, THE WAVE FROM THE GERMAN OF TIEDGE. "WHITHER, thou turbid wave? "I am the Wave of Life, 99 THE DEAD. FROM THE GERMAN OF KLOPSTOCK. How they so softly rest, Now doth my soul draw near! All in their silent graves, And they no longer weep, Here, where complaint is still! And they no longer feel, Here, where all gladness flies! And, by the cypresses Until the Angel Calls them, they slumber! THE BIRD AND THE SHIP. FROM THE GERMAN OF MÜLLER. "THE rivers rush into the sea, By castle and town they go; The winds behind them merrily Their noisy trumpets blow. "The clouds are passing far and high, And everything, that can sing and fly, "I greet thee, bonny boat! Whither, or whence, With thy fluttering golden band?" "I greet thee, little bird! To the wide sea I haste from the narrow land. "Full and swollen is every sail; I have trusted all to the sounding gale, “And wilt thou, little bird, go with us? "I need not and seek not company, “High over the sails, high over the mast, When thy merry companions are still, at last, "Who neither may rest, nor listen may, God bless them every one! I dart away, in the bright blue day, And the golden fields of the sun. |