THE BLACK KNIGHT. FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND. "TWAS Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness, Of ancient Hofburg's walls, A luxuriant spring shall break." Drums and trumpets echo loudly, Fell all the cavaliers, Before the monarch's stalwart son. To the barrier of the fight Rode at last a sable knight, "Sir Knight! your name and scutcheon, say!" "Should I speak it here, Ye would stand aghast with fear; I am a prince of mighty sway!" When he rode into the lists, The arch of heaven grew black with mists, At the first blow Fell the youth from saddle-bow, Pipe and viol call the dances, Torch-light through the high halls glances; With manner bland Doth ask the maiden's hand, Doth with her the dance begin; Danced in sable iron sark, Down fall from her the fair Flowerets, faded, to the ground. To the sumptuous banquet came Every knight and every dame. 'Twixt son and daughter all distraught, With mournful mind The ancient king reclined, Gazed at them in silent thought. Pale the children both did look, "Golden wine will make you whole!" The children drank, Gave many a courteous thank; 66 Oh, that draught was very cool!" Each the father's breast embraces, Looks the fear-struck father gray, "Woe! the blessed children both From his hollow, cavernous breast; 66 SONG OF THE SILENT LAND. FROM THE GERMAN OF SALIS. INTO the Silent Land! Ah! who shall lead us thither? Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather, Thither, oh, thither, Into the Silent Land? Into the Silent Land! To you, ye boundless regions Of all perfection! Tender morning-visions Of beauteous souls! The future's pledge and band! Who in life's battle firm doth stand, Shall bear hope's tender blossoms Into the Silent Land! O Land! O Land! For all the broken-hearted The mildest herald by our fate allotted, Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand To lead us with a gentle hand Into the land of the great departed, Into the Silent Land! THE LUCK OF EDENHALL. FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND. The tradition upon which this ballad is founded, and the "shards of the Luck of Edenhall," still exist in England. The goblet is in the possession of Sir Christopher Musgrave, Bart., of Eden Hall, Cumberland; and is not so entirely shattered as the ballad leaves it.] Or Edenhall the youthful lord Bids sound the festal trumpet's call; And cries, 'mid the drunken revellers all, The butler hears the words with pain, Then said the lord, "This glass to praise, The grey-beard with trembling hand obeys; It beams from the Luck of Edenhall. Then speaks the lord, and waves it light, ""Twas right a goblet the fate should be "First rings it deep, and full, and mild, "For its keeper takes a race of might, Kling! klang!-with a harder blow than all As the goblet ringing flies apart, And through the rift the wild flames start; In storms the foe, with fire and sword; On the morrow the butler gropes alone, "The stone wall," saith he, "doth fall aside, THE ELECTED KNIGHT. FROM THE DANISH. [The following strange and somewhat mystical ballad is from Nyerup and Rahbek's Danske Viser of the middle ages. It seems to refer to the first preaching of Christianity in the north, and to the institution of knight-errantry. The three maidens I suppose to be Faith, Hope, and Charity. The irregularities of the original have been carefully preserved in the translation.] SIR OLUF he rideth over the plain, Full seven miles broad and seven miles wide, But never, ah, never can meet with the man He saw under the hill-side A knight full well equipped; His steed was black, his helm was barred; He wore upon his spurs Twelve little golden birds; Anon he spurred his steed with a clang, And there sat all the birds and sang. He wore upon his mail Twelve little golden wheels; Anon in eddies the wild wind blew, And round and round the wheels they flew. He wore before his breast A lance that was poised in rest; He wore upon his helm A wreath of ruddy gold; And that gave him the Maidens Three, 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! The first tilt they together rode, The third tilt they together rode, Now lie the lords upon the plain, |