And onward still, o'er hill and plain,
Hop, hop, the gallop dashed amain,
Till horse and rider panting blew,
And dust-clouds, sparks, and pebbles flew.

How fast the land on either hand
Beneath the moon swept by!
How swiftly fled, high overhead,
The stars along the sky!

"Dost quake, my love?

The moon shines bright!

Hurrah! the dead ride swift by night!

Dost fear the dead, my love, my own?"

'Ah, leave the dead to rest, alone!

"Speed, speed, my steed! Methinks e'en now

The early cock doth crow.

Speed on! I scent the morning air;

Speed, speed! the sand runs low!

'Tis done, 't is done,

our journey's passed;

The bridal-bed appears at last.

Hurrah! how swiftly ride the dead!
It is, it is, the bridal-bed!"

And, lo! an iron-grated gate

Full in their pathway frowned;

He snapped his switch, and lock and bolt
Sprang back with thunder-sound.
The clanking gates, wide-opening, led,
O'er crowded dwellings of the dead,

Where tombstones, thickly scattered round,
Gleamed pale along the moonlit ground.

Ha, see! ha, see! whoo! whoo! what tongue

Can such dread wonder tell!

The rider's collar, piece by piece,

Like shrivelled tinder fell;
His head a sightless skull became,
A ghastly skeleton his frame;

In his right hand a scythe he swung,
And in his left an hour-glass hung.

High pranced the steed, and snorted wild,
And, snorting, flamed outright;
And, whee! the solid ground beneath
Fled from the maiden's sight.

Howls, howls were heard through upper air;
Below, deep moanings of despair:

Her quaking heart, 'twixt death and life,
Seemed wrestling in an awful strife.

Now round and round, o'er moonlit ground,
The ghastly spectre-train

Full well did dance their fetter-dance,
And howled this solemn strain, -
"Forbear! forbear! Though heart be riven,
Contend not with the God of heaven!
Thou hast laid down this earthly clod;
Now may the soul find peace with God!"

Gottfried August Bürger. Tr. C. T. Brooks.

THE GERMANS TO THEIR EMPEROR.

ERMAN Kaiser! German Kaiser!

GE

Come, our savior, our avenger! Save thy Deutschland from the stranger, Take the wreath we wove for thee.

See the league is true and German !
Only German hopes have swayed us,
Only thou and God shall aid us,
Not the Dane, and not the Swede.

Come, in ancient holy harness!
See thy sires entreat, adjure thee!
Of Germania's weal secure thee,
Make the Empire's freedom sure.

Like a shepherd, strong yet gentle,
Rudolph from his Alps descended,
Jarring strifes in peace were blended,
Under Harsburg's kindly sway.

Praise to thee, fleet chamois-hunter!
War his tent, and her pavilion
Peace, for thee, brave Maximilian
Spreads, our Kaiser-Cavalier!

When dissension tore the Empire,
Shaking ancient Faith's foundations,

Deutschland pined among the nations
Thirty dark and dreary years.

With no tears to spare for pity,

Half apostle, and half warrior,

'Gainst the storm a strong rock-barrier

Stood the pious Ferdinand.

German Kaiser! German Kaiser!

Lagg'st thou ?-sleep'st thou ? — up, awaken!

Let the lion's mane be shaken !
Be a Rudolph! be a Charles!

Let the Empire be the watchword!
Where the ancient banner leads us,
Where the eagle's pride precedes us,
We will march to victory.

Cast not off what God hath given!
On thy German throne reseated,
Kaiser crowned, and Kaiser greeted,
Be the star of Christendom!

From the German. Tr. J. S. Blackie.

WHAT

LUTZOW'S WILD CHASE.

AT gleams from yon wood in the bright sunshine?

Hark! nearer and nearer 't is sounding;

It hurries along, black line upon line,

And the shrill-voiced horns in the wild chase join,
The soul with dark horror confounding:

And if the black troopers' name you'd know,
"T is Lützow's wild Jäger, -a-hunting they go!

From hill to hill, through the dark wood they hie,
And warrior to warrior is calling;

Behind the thick bushes in ambush they lie,
The rifle is heard, and the loud war-cry,

In rows the Frank minions are falling:
And if the black troopers' name you'd know,
'Tis Lützow's wild Jäger, — a-hunting they go!

Where the bright grapes glow, and the Rhine rolls wide,

He weened they would follow him never;

But the pursuit came like the storm in its pride,
With sinewy arms they parted the tide,

And reached the far shore of the river;
And if the dark swimmers' name you 'd know.
'Tis Lützow's wild Jäger, a-hunting they go !

How roars in the valley the angry fight;
Hark! how the keen swords are clashing!
High-hearted Ritter are fighting the fight,
The spark of Freedom awakens bright,

And in crimson flames it is flashing:
And if the dark Ritters' name you'd know,
'Tis Lützow's wild Jäger, a-hunting they go!

Who gurgle in death, mid the groans of the foe,
No more the bright sunlight seeing?

The writhings of death on their face they show,