are-"Ernest, Duke of Suabia," a tragedy; "Louis the Bavarian," a drama; "Dramatic Poems;" "Walter of the Vogelweid," &c. His poenis were first published in a collected form in 1815, since when they have gone through many editions. He was some time a member of the Würtemberg parliament, in which he occasionally spoke. Died 1862.] A GOLDSMITH stood where shone around His pearls and diamonds clear; A dainty knight just then came in, My sweet bride's locks to braid." Now when the finished garland shone, And Helen could be quite alone, "Ah! happy, sure, the bride will be O, I should die for joy!" Ere long the knight came in again, "My good old goldsmith, make me, then For my sweet little bride." And when the finished circlet shone With precious diamonds bright, And Helen could be quite alone, "Ah! happy, sure, the bride will be O, I should die for joy!" Ere long the knight came in again, But that their fitness I may see. 'Twas early on a Sunday morn; Had put her very best dress on, In pretty shame, with cheek on fire, He placed on her the golden tire, And pressed her little hand. "My Helen sweet! my Helen dear! The jest is over now; What bride shall claim the pretty gear, The jewelled gold-bright garland, "With gold, and pearl, and precious gem, Hast thou grown up to be As, sweet! thou should'st have learnt from them-- In after days, with me." THE SICILIAN VESPERS. J. G. WHITTIER. [Mr. Whittier is an American poet of some standing; still living.] SILENCE o'er sea and earth Till the convent tower sent deeply forth The chime of its vesper bell. One moment, and that solemn sound Fell heavily on the ear; But a sterner echo pass'd around; Which the boldest shook to hear. The startled monks throng'd up, For a boding clash, and a clanging tramp, The peasant heard the sound, As he sat beside his hearth; And the song and the dance were hush'd around, The chieftain shook in his banner'd hall, And the warder shrank from the castle wall, Woe, woe, to the stranger, then; For the waken'd pride of an injured land From the plumed chief to the pilgrim band; Proud beings tell that hour, With the young and passing fair, And the flame went up from dome and tower, The stranger priest at the altar stood, But the holy shrine grew dim with blood; The avenger found him there! Woe, woe, to the sons of Gaul; They were gathered darkly, one and all, On ruin'd temple and mouldering pile, Ay, the sunshine sweetly smiled, And the man of blood that day might read, How ill his dark and midnight deed Became the light of heaven. THE BATTLE OF MORGARTEN. MRS. HEMANS. "were [Felicia Dorothea Hemans was born at Liverpool, Sept. 25, 1793, but was removed with her family before she had attained the age of seven to Gwrych, in Derbyshire. In this romantic region she wrote some very creditable verse while yet in her twelfth year. In 1809 the family removed to St. Asaph, in Flintshire, and in 1812 her "Domestic Affections and other Poems published. In the summer of this year she was married to Captain Hemans, who, in 1818, left her with five children, "to try the effect of a southern climate," but his wife never saw him again, there can be little doubt that it was this painful separation which tinged much of her subsequent compositions. with that melancholy feeling that rendered it so touching, and occasionally, so monotonously pathetic. She may claim to be the first English writer who made the poetry of the home affections adapted to the purposes of song; she beautified and purified musical ballad literature, and had hundreds of imitators -the best proof of the originality of her genius. She died at Dublin, May 16, 1835.1 THE wine-month shone in its golden prime, But a deeper sound, through the Switzer's clime, A sound, through vaulted cave, And a trumpet, pealing wild and far, And through the forest-glooms And the winds were tossing knightly plumes, In Hasli's wilds there was gleaming steel, And the Schreckhorn's rocks, with a savage peal, Up 'midst the Righi snows The stormy march was heard, With the charger's tramp, whence fire-sparks rose, But a band, the noblest band of all, They came with heavy chains, For the race despised so longBut amidst his Alp-domains, The herdsman's arm is strong! The sun was reddening the clouds of morn Where the mountain people stood, There was stillness, as of night, When storms at distance brood. There was stillness, as of deep dead night, While the Switzers gazed on the gathering might On wound those columns bright Between the lake and wood, But they look'd not to the misty height The pass was fill'd with their serried power, And their steps had sounds like a thunder-showe There were prince and crested knight, When a shout arose from the misty height And the mighty rocks came bounding down, With a joyous whirl from the summit thrown- They came like lauwine hurl'd From Alp to Alp in play, When the echoes shout through the snowy And the pines are borne away. The fir-woods crash'd on the mountain-side, world With a sudden charge, on the flower and pride Like hunters of the deer, They storm'd the narrow dell, And first in the shock, with Uri's spear, Was the arm of William Tell. |