Treuer Tod.

Der Ritter muß zum blut'gen Kampf hinaus,
für Freiheit, Ruhm und Vaterland zu streiten;
da zieht er noch vor seines Liebchens Haus:
nicht ohne Abschied will er von ihr scheiden.
o weine nicht die Aeuglein roth,

als ob nicht Trost und Hoffnung bliebe;
bleib' ich doch treu bis in den Tod
dem Vaterland und meiner Liebe.

und als er ihr das Lebewohl gebracht,
sprengt er zurück zum Haufen der Getreuen;
er sammelt sich zu seines Kaisers Macht,
und muthig blickt er auf der Feinde Reihen.
mich schreckt es nicht, was uns bedroht,
und wenn ich auf der Wahlstatt bliebe,
denn freudig geh' ich in den Tod
für Vaterland und meine Liebe.

und furchtbar stürzt er in des Kampfes Gluth,
und Tausend fallen unter seinen Streichen;
den Sieg verdankt man seinem Heldenmuth,
doch auch den Sieger zählt man zu den Leichen.
ström hin, mein Blut, so purpurroth !
dich rächten meines Schwertes Hiebe;
ich hielt den Schwur treu bis in Tod
dem Vaterland und meiner Liebe.

Sprache.

THE sight of living spirit why

KOERNER.

must living spirit vainly seek? because, alas, when speaks the soul, the soul itself has ceased to speak.

From SCHILLER.

Eques.

EQVES cruentum Martis instaurans opus quo patria quo laus quoque libertas uocat, suae moratur ante uirginis domum,

nec uolt abire non prius dicto uale.

'flere quin parcis nec in omne tempus,
cara, desperas? ego nunc et ipsam
dicar ad mortem patriae meoque
fidus amori.'

et cum supremum iam susurrasset uale,
claris, ut ante, iungitur sodalibus,
et miles inter milites regis sui
interritus prospectat hostium minas.

'nil ego instantis metuens pericli,
haec mihi si sit statio sepulchrum,
procidam laetus, patriae meique
tutor amoris.'

turmasque dirus inter hostiles furit,
dat mille plagas, mille prosternit uiros;
debetur illi partium uictoria:
sed ipse uictis additus uictor iacet.

'profluat sanguis: neque me fefellit
ultor hic ensis neque non fidelem
mors sacramento patriaeque et uni
uidit amori.'

Mens.

MENTI cur nequeat se mens ostendere quaeris? quod mens, cum loquitur, desinit ipsa loqui.

Wedded Love.

THERE is dew for the floweret,
and honey for the bee,
and a bower for the wild bird,
and love for you and me.

there are tears for the many,
and pleasures for the few;
but let the world pass on, dear,
there's love for me and you.

'there is care that will not leave us,
and pain that will not flee,
but on our hearth unaltered
sits love 'tween you and me.

our love, it ne'er was reckoned,
yet good it is and true;
it's half the world to me, dear,
it's all the world to you.

HOOD.

Hath Song a balm for Grief?

YE hearts that break and give no sign save whitening lips and fading tresses, till Death pours out his cordial wine

slow dropped from Misery's crushing presses; if singing breath or echoing chord to every hidden pang were given, what endless melodies were poured,

as sad as Earth, as sweet as Heaven!

O. W. HOLMES.

Quos irrupta tenet Copula.

Δρόσος μέν ἐστιν ἄνθει
ἄνθος δὲ τῇ μελίσσῃ,
ὄρνιθι φύλλα δένδρων,
ἔρως δὲ σοί τε καμοί.
πολλοῖσι κλαύματ ̓ ἐστί,
παύροις δὲ χάρματ ̓· ἔστω
τί γάρ, φίλη; συνοικεῖ
ἔρως ἐμοί τε καί σοι.
ἄχη μέν ἐστ ̓ ἄφυκτα,
μέριμνά τ ̓ οὐ λέλοιπε,
συνέστιον δ ̓ ἐῶσιν
ἔρωτα σοί τε καμοί.
ἔρως ὅσος μὲν ἀμφοῖν
οὐπώποτ' ἐσταθμήθη,
ἀλλ ̓ ἐσθλός, ἀλλ ̓ ἀληθὴς
πάρεστ' ἐμοί τε καί σοι.
καὶ τῆς ζόης ἐγὼ μὲν
τὴν ἡμίσειαν εἶναι
λέγω, φίλη, σὺ δ ̓ αὖτε
τὸ πᾶν λέγεις ἔρωτα.

Medicina Doloris.

DICITE, qui luctu marcentes signa dedistis sola quod albescunt labra senentque comae, donec ab Aerumnae pressatis aestuet uuis quod medicum tarde dat Libitina merum ; si canere occulti muto sub pectore luctus aut chorda possent si resonante loqui, maestitiam terrae solantes nectare caeli quot fluerent dulces tempus in omne modi!

Leaves and Lives.

LET us quit the leafy arbour
and the torrent murmuring by;
for the sun is in his harbour,

weary of the open sky.

summer ebbs: each day that follows
is a reflux from on high,
tending to the darksome hollows
where the frosts of winter lie.
He who governs the creation,
in His providence assign'd
such a gradual declination

to the life of human kind.
yet we mark it not: fruits redden,

fresh flowers blow, as flowers have blown; and the heart is loth to deaden

hopes that she so long hath known.

be thou wiser, youthful maiden,
and, when thy decline shall come,

let not flower or bough fruit-laden
hide the knowledge of thy doom.

WORDSWORTH.

An Sie.

THINE eye is not the heaven's own blue, thy mouth is not the very rose,

thy breast and arms not lilies true. o wondrous spring, when such as those were lilies all the vale perfuming, and roses on the hill-side blooming, and o'er them skies as clearly bright expanding, as thine eye's blue light! From UHLAND.