HEARD an eagle crying all alone
Above the vineyards through the summer
night,
Among the skeletons of robber towers,
The iron homes of iron-hearted lords,
Now crumbling back to ruin year by year,
Because the ancient eyry of his race
Is trenched and walled by busy-handed men,
And all his forest-chace and woodland wild,
Wherefrom he fed his young with hare and roe,
Are trim with grapes, which swell from hour to
hour
And toss their golden tendrils to the sun
For joy at their own riches: so, I thought,
The great devourers of the earth shall sit,
Idle and impotent, they know not why,
Down-staring from their barren height of state
On nations grown too wise to slay and slave,
The puppets of the few, while peaceful love
And fellow-help make glad the heart of earth,
With wonders which they fear and hate, as he
The eagle hates the vineyard slopes below.
Ich weiß nicht, was soll es bedeuten,
Daß ich so traurig bin;
Ein Märchen aus alten Zeiten,
Das kommt mir nicht aus dem Sinn.
Die Luft ist kühl und es dunkelt,
Und ruhig fließt der Rhein;
Der Gipfel des Berges funkelt
Im Abendsonnenschein.
Die schönste Jungfrau sißet
Dort oben wunderbar,
Ihr goldnes Geschmeide blißet,
Sie fämmt ihr goldenes Haar.
Sie kämmt es mit goldenem Kamme,
Und singt ein Lied dabei;
Das hat eine wundersame,
Gewaltige Melodei.
Den Schiffer im kleinen Schiffe
Ergreift es mit wildem Weh;
Er schaut nicht die Felsenriffe,
Er schaut nur hinauf in die Höh'.
Ich glaube, die Wellen verschlingen
Am Ende Schiffer und Kahn;
Und das hat mit ihrem Singen
Die Lorelei getan.
KNOW not whence it rises,
This thought so full of woe;
But a tale of times departed
Haunts me, and will not go.
The air is cool and it darkens,
And calmly flows the Rhine;
The mountain peaks are sparkling
In the sunny evening-shine.
And yonder sits a maiden,
The fairest of the fair,
With gold in her garment glittering,
As she combs her golden hair;
With a golden comb she combs it,
And a wild song singeth she,
That melts the heart with a wondrous
And powerful melody.
The boatman feels his bosom
With a nameless longing move;
He sees not the gulfs before him,
His gaze is fixed above;
Till over the boat and boatman
The Rhine's deep waters run:
And this, with her magic singing,
The Lorelei has done.
Tr. in Edinburgh Review.
HE summer and autumn had been so wet, That in winter the corn was growing yet: 'Twas a piteous sight to see all around The grain lie rotting on the ground.
Every day the starving poor
Crowded around Bishop Hatto's door;
For he had a plentiful last year's store,
And all the neighborhood could tell
His granaries were furnished well.
At last Bishop Hatto appointed a day
To quiet the poor without delay;
He bade them to his great barn repair,
That they should have food for the winter there.
Rejoiced the tidings good to hear,
The poor folks flock from far and near;
The great barn was full as it could hold
Of women and children, young and old.
Then, when he saw it could hold no more,
Bishop Hatto he made fast the door;
And whilst for mercy on Christ they call,
He set fire to the barn, and burnt them all.
"I' faith 'tis an excellent bonfire!" quoth he; "And the country is greatly obliged to me
For ridding it, in these times forlorn,
Of rats that only consume the corn."
So then to his palace returnéd he,
And he sate down to supper merrily,
And he slept that night like an innocent man;
But Bishop Hatto never slept again.
In the morning, as he entered the hall,
Where his picture hung against the wall,
A sweat like death all over him came,
For the rats had eaten it out of the frame.
As he looked, there came a man from his farm, -
He had a countenance white with alarm:
"My lord, I opened your granaries this morn,
And the rats had eaten all your corn."
Another came running presently,
And he was pale as pale could be.
"Fly! my lord bishop, fly!" quoth he;
"Ten thousand rats are coming this way,
The Lord forgive you for yesterday!"
"I'll go to my tower in the Rhine," replied he; "Tis the safest place in Germany
The walls are high and the shores are steep,
And the tide is strong, and the water deep."
Bishop Hatto fearfully hastened away;
And he crossed the Rhine without delay,
|