voyages of the Northmen in America; Dina, and The Gods of the North. A complete edition of his Poetiske Skrifter (Poetical Writings) was published at Copenhagen in thirty-two volumes (1857-65). "ALADDIN:" DEDICATION TO GOETHE. Born in far Northern clime, Came to mine ears sweet tidings in my prime Where flowers eternal blow, Where Power and Beauty go, Knit in a magic band. Oft, when a child, I'd pore When on the wold The snow was falling white, Felt not the cold. When with his pinion chill The Winter smote the castle on the hill, It fanned my hair. I sat in my small room, And through the lamp-lit gloom Saw Spring shine fair. And though my love in youth Was all for Northern energy and truth, And Northern feats, Yet for my fancy's feast The flower-apparelled East Unveiled its sweets. To manhood as I grew, From North to South, from South to North I flew ; I was possest By yearnings to give voice in song To all that had been struggling long Within my breast. VOL. XVIII.-3 I heard bards manifold; But at their minstrelsy my heart grew cold; Dim, colorless, became My childhood's visions grand : Their tameness only fanned My wilder flame. Who did the young bard save? Who to his eyes keener vision gave That he the child The lion, far-off ride, Amor beheld, astride Careering wild? Thou, great and good! Thy spell-like lays Did the enchanted curtain raise From fairy-land, Where flowers eternal blow, Where Power and Beauty go, Knit in a loving band. Well pleased thou heardest long Within thy halls the stranger minstrel's song. Taught to aspire By thee, my spirit leapt To bolder heights, and swept The German lyre. Oft have I sung before; And many a hero of our Northern shore, By sad Melpomene With grave, stern mien, Stalk o'er the scene. Called from his grave, we see And greeting they will send To friend Aladdin cheerily as a friend. Prevails not wholly where The oak's thick gloom Flowers waft perfume. Warbles the nightingale, and fair On thee, to whom I owe New life, what shall my gratitude bestow? Save his own song! And this Thou dost not-trivial as the tribute is— -Translation of THEODORE MARTIN. ON TRACE OF THE MAGIC LAMP. [NOUREDDIN, the enchanter, is seated by a table on which is a little chest filled with white sand. Upon this sand he half-consciously traces lines; then speaks.] Noureddin.-A wondrous treasure! The greatest in the world?— Hid in a cavern ?—Where ?—In Asia ?— Deep in the earth; high overarched with rocks Of forty weary years? I question further: What is this matchless prize?-A copper lamp? How's this! An old, rust-eaten, copper lamp !— And what, then, is its virtue ?-How!" Concealed, Known but to him that owns it." And shall I (Scarce dares my tongue give the bold question voice), Shall I, then, e'er the happy owner be? See! the fine sand, like water interblends, And of the stylus leaves no trace behind. All's dark!-Yet stay!-With surging waves it heaves, This arid sea, as when the tempest sweeps With eddying blast through Biledulgerid. What mean these furrows?—I am to draw forth A poem that lies eastward in the hall, Old, dust-begrimed; and, wheresoe'er my eyes, I am to read, and all shall then be clear. [He rises slowly, and takes an old folio, which he opens, and reads.] "Fair Fortune's boons are scattered wide and far In single sparkles only found and rare, "Earth's choicest flowerets bloom not everywhere: "In the lush Orient's sultry palm-groves glide "Darkness and storm deface the Northern sky; “Life's gladsome child is led by Fortune's hand; "From his own breast leaps forth in wondrous wise. "'Tis ever thus that Fortune freely hails Her favorite, and on him her blessings showers, "Unwooed she comes at unexpected hours; And ask where lurk her long reluctant powers. "Fain wouldst thou grasp-Hope's portal shuts amain Unless foredoomed by Fate thy toils are vain, These lines were woven in a mortal's brain, Is not a meteor-light that leads astray. With a grave smile, her finger indicates Where lies the treasure she has marked for mine.- To me 'twas given, with penetrating soul, "Life's gladsome child!"-That means some creature gay, By nature dowered, instead of intellect, [Traces lines in the sand.] Yes, yes, it is! A fume of incense will I stand in Asia. The succeeding day THE SCANDINAVIAN WARRIORS AND BARDS. Oh! great was Denmark's land in time of old! Eager to join the revels of the dead; While the fond maiden flew with smiles to fold Nor bore they only to the field of death The bossy buckler and the spear of fire; |