He wore upon his helm A wreath of ruddy gold;And that gave him the Maidens Three, The youngest was fair to behold.
Sir Oluf questioned the Knight eftsoon If he were come from heaven down;"Art thou Christ of Heaven," quoth he, "So will I yield me unto thee.""I am not Christ the Great, Thou shalt not yield thee yet;I am an Unknown Knight, Three modest Maidens have me bedight.""Art thou a Knight elected, And have three Maidens thee bedight So shalt thou ride a tilt this day, For all the Maidens' honor!"The first tilt they together rode They put their steeds to the test, The second tilt they together rode, They proved their manhood best.
The third tilt they together rode, Neither of them would yield;The fourth tilt they together rode, They both fell on the field.
Now lie the lords upon the plain, And their blood runs unto death;Now sit the Maidens in the high tower, The youngest sorrows till death.
CHILDHOOD
BY JENS IMMANUEL BAGGESEN
There was a time when I was very small, When my whole frame was but an ell in height;Sweetly, as I recall it, tears do fall, And therefore I recall it with delight.
I sported in my tender mother's arms, And rode a-horseback on best father's knee;Alike were sorrows, passions and alarms, And gold, and Greek, and love, unknown to me,Then seemed to me this world far less in size, Likewise it seemed to me less wicked far;Like points in heaven, I saw the stars arise, And longed for wings that I might catch a star.
I saw the moon behind the island fade, And thought, "Oh, were I on that island there, I could find out of what the moon is made, Find out how large it is, how round, how fair!"Wondering, I saw God's sun, through western skies, Sink in the ocean's golden lap at night, And yet upon the morrow early rise, And paint the eastern heaven with crimson light;And thought of God, the gracious Heavenly Father, Who made me, and that lovely sun on high, And all those pearls of heaven thick-strung together, Dropped, clustering, from his hand o'er all the sky.
With childish reverence, my young lips did say The prayer my pious mother taught to me:
"O gentle God! oh, let me strive alway Still to be wise, and good, and follow Thee!"So prayed I for my father and my mother, And for my sister, and for all the town;The king I knew not, and the beggar-brother, Who, bent with age, went, sighing, up and down.
They perished, the blithe days of boyhood perished, And all the gladness, all the peace I knew!
Now have I but their memory, fondly cherished;--God! may I never lose that too!
FROM THE GERMAN
THE HAPPIEST LAND
There sat one day in quiet, By an alehouse on the Rhine, Four hale and hearty fellows, And drank the precious wine.
The landlord's daughter filled their cups, Around the rustic board Then sat they all so calm and still, And spake not one rude word.
But, when the maid departed, A Swabian raised his hand, And cried, all hot and flushed with wine, "Long live the Swabian land!
"The greatest kingdom upon earth Cannot with that compare With all the stout and hardy men And the nut-brown maidens there.
"Ha!" cried a Saxon, laughing, And dashed his heard with wine;"I had rather live in Laplaud, 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 the cobbler blows the horn, And the miner blows the bugle, Over mountain gorge and bourn."..............
And then the landlord's daughter Up to heaven raised her hand, And said, "Ye may no more contend,--There lies the happiest land!"
THE WAVE
BY CHRISTOPH AUGUST TIEDGE
"Whither, thou turbid wave?
Whither, with so much haste, As if a thief wert thou?""I am the Wave of Life, Stained with my margin's dust;From the struggle and the strife Of the narrow stream I fly To the Sea's immensity, To wash from me the slime Of the muddy banks of Time."THE DEAD
BY ERNST STOCKMANN
How they so softly rest, All they the holy ones, Unto whose dwelling-place Now doth my soul draw near!
How they so softly rest, All in their silent graves, Deep to corruption Slowly don-sinking!
And they no longer weep, Here, where complaint is still!
And they no longer feel, Here, where all gladness flies!
And, by the cypresses Softly o'ershadowed Until the Angel Calls them, they slumber!
THE BIRD AND THE SHIP
BY WILHELM MULLER
"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, We little birds in them play;And everything, that can sing and fly, Goes with us, and far away.
"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 see no longer a hill, I have trusted all to the sounding gale, And it will not let me stand still.
"And wilt thou, little bird, go with us?
Thou mayest stand on the mainmast tall, For full to sinking is my house With merry companions all."--"I need not and seek not company, Bonny boat, I can sing all alone;For the mainmast tall too heavy am I, Bonny boat, I have wings of my own.
"High over the sails, high over the mast, Who shall gainsay these joys?
When thy merry companions are still, at last, Thou shalt hear the sound of my voice.
"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.
"Thus do I sing my merry song, Wherever the four winds blow;And this same song, my whole life long, Neither Poet nor Printer may know.'
WHITHER?
BY WILHELM MULLER
I heard a brooklet gushing From its rocky fountain near, Down into the valley rushing, So fresh and wondrous clear.
I know not what came o'er me, Nor who the counsel gave;But I must hasten downward, All with my pilgrim-stave;Downward, and ever farther, And ever the brook beside;And ever fresher murmured, And ever clearer, the tide.