Then Angels fly across the land, awake
The peoples, call them to the Day of Doom.
Many will rise then from the dust, break free
From the grave's burden, take their life again,
Stand to be judged according to their deeds.
When He who shall be judge of quick and dead
Sits at the Judgment, Angel-squadrons stand
About him, countless circle of the blest,
And those who then have risen to be judged.
There nothing can be hid.

. . Then will be brought forth

The holy cross upon which Christ was nailed.
He shows the wounds that He received as man,
For love to this our race.

THE SONG OF HILDEBRAND.

FROM the period of the Migration of the Nations in the fifth to the ninth centuries but few remnants of poetry survive. The chief are the Anglo-Saxon poem of Beowulf, part of the Low-German song of Hildebrand, and the heroic tales of the Icelandic Edda. These appear all to have been of the same form, having a verse without rhyme, but marked by alliteration and four accents. Its sonorous monotony was fitted to represent the rude heroism of the age. Hildebrand had been the armorer of Theodoric, and had accompanied the latter in his exile to the court of Attila. He met Hadubrand on his return after years of absence.

I have heard say, that Hildebrand and Hadubrand agreed to go on a warlike expedition. These kinsmen made ready their horses, prepared their war-shirts, and girded on their chainhilted swords.

As they rode to the meeting of heroes, Hildebrand, Herbrand's son (he was one of the wise, and questioned in few words), said to his companion: "If thou wilt tell me who was thy father, and of what people thou art sprung, I will give thee three garments.”

"I am a child of the Huns," answered Hadubrand, "and our old people have told me that my father's name was Hildebrand. In former times he came from the East, flying the enmity of Otaker (Odoacer), and put himself with Dietrich (Theodoric) and his bands. He left behind, in the land, a bride in child-bed, and a child without inheritance; and went to the south with Dietrich, where he stood many brunts.

"He was a man without connexions, not a match for Otaker; but he was a good soldier, while he strove under Dietrich, acquired domains, was his people's father, and dear to brave men. I do not believe that he is living."

"My worthy god Irmin* in heaven above," quoth Hildebrand, "do not let me fight with so near a kinsman!" Then he untwisted golden bracelets from his arm, and imperial rings, which his king had given him, saying: "This I give thee, not without good will; I am thy father Hildebrand."

Hadubrand answered: "With willing soul be gifts taken, tit for tat. Thou art not of his age. Craftily thou seekest to deceive me; but I will convict thee out of thine own mouth. Thou art so advanced in years that thou must be older than he. And shipwrecked men told me that he died by the Wendel Sea [the Mediterranean], in the West."

Then Hildebrand answered: "I well see thou hast in thy breast no Lord God, and carest not for His kingdom. Go, now, so God be willing; I would we were parted. Sixty summers have I wandered out of my country, and sometimes I have joined archers, but in no borough did they ever fasten my legs; and now my nearest kinsman would aim his battle-axe at my neck, or I must bind his legs.

"Yet you may now easily, if your valor is up, win the spoils of the dead from one you should venerate, if you have any sense of right. He would be a base Ostrogoth who should refuse thee battle, seeing thou so greatly desirest it. Good commoners, be judges, which it is who flinches in the field, and which it is who ought to have our two coats of mail."

Then they let fly their ashen spears with such force that they stuck in the shields. Then they struck together their stone axes, and uplifted hostilely their white shields, till their loins and bellies quivered.

[Here the fragment of the original ends, but a later writer has concluded the story.]

But the lady Utta rushed in between them: "I know," said she, "the cross of gold which I gave him for his shield; this is my Hildebrand. You, Hadubrand, sheathe your sword; this is your father."

Then she led both champions into her hall, and gave them meat and wine and many embraces.

*

Probably the national hero Hermann, deified.

THE WEISSENBRUNNER PRAYER.

THIS oldest fragment in the High German dialect was found in the Benedictine monastery at Weissenbrunner, in Bavaria. It belongs to the eighth century.

I SOUGHT out and heard among men

The greatest of wonders.

Earth was not, nor heavens bright.
There was not hill or tree,

No sun shone, no moon gave light,
There was not the sea.

There was nothing, so no end,
Beginning, bounds, were there :
Only God, man's tenderest friend,
And His angels fair.

Holy God, Almighty God,

That madest sky and land,

That givest man so many a good,
Give me to understand

Thy grace, in right belief and will
In wisdom and in strength,
To fight against the powers of ill,
And come to Thee at length.

WALTAR STRONG-HAND.

SOME German writers of the Middle Ages attempted to preserve the traditions and ballads of their countrymen, by putting them in Latin dress. Among the most successful was the noted mystic Ekkehard, who sang the story of Waltar Strong-hand. This hero was the son of Alpher, king of Aquitania, who was surrendered as hostage to Attila, king of the Huns. Another captive at his court was Hildegund, daughter of Herrick, king of Burgundy; and still another was Hagen, a cousin of Gibich, king of Franconia. The latter's son, Gunther, succeeding to the throne, broke the treaty with Attila, and Hagen escaped. Then Waltar, who had fallen in love with Hildegund, persuaded her to join him in flight from the Huns, when Attila was overcome with wine. When they crossed the Danube, Gunther heard of them, and sought to secure the treasure they were supposed to have. Several knights were sent in pursuit and fought with Waltar, but were slain, one after

another. At last the king commanded Hagen, who had been Waltar's dearest friend, to attack him. The following extract relates the last fight.

THE FIGHT OF HAGEN AND WALTARI.
WALTARI, taking off his armor, lay
Upon his shield, to rest his weary limbs;
And speaking tender words to Hildegund,
He bade her watch his slumbers as before,
For sore he needed some refreshing sleep.
Thus all the night, the fair and faithful maid
Sat by his side, driving the sleep away
That tried to steal upon her unawares,
By softly singing snatches of old song.
Before the dawn of day Waltari rose,
And telling her to sleep now in her turn,
He paced the ground with calm and even steps,
His lance in hand, prepared for an attack.

And thus the night wore on, and morning came;
With dew bespangling tree and bush and fields.
Then from the corpses with all reverent care
Waltari took the armors, swords and shields,
But left their rich embroidered robes untouched.
This hard-earned booty he securely bound
On four great chargers, the remaining two
He destined for himself and Hildegund.
Yet ere they started, with his falcon eyes,
Waltari reconnoitered all the land;

But seeing nought and hearing also nought
Which roused suspicion, they at length departed;
Hildegund ahead with the new treasure,
Waltari following to protect the rear.

A thousand paces they had hardly gone
When Hildegund, with frightened backward glance,
Beheld two stalwart knights approaching fast,

And, paling with dismay, she cried aloud:
"O dear, my Lord! The end is coming now.
I pray thee fly, and save thy precious life!"

Turning his head, Waltari saw the foe,

But said with tranquil mien: "No man shall say,
Waltari fled whilst he could wield a sword!

Attila's steed thou now must mount again
And save the golden treasure. Yonder wood
Will give thee shelter, whilst I here await
The strangers, as it well becomes a knight."

The maiden tremblingly obeyed his wish,
Whilst he prepared his trusty lance and shield.
From out the distance, Gunther called aloud:
Now thou no more canst hide behind huge rocks,
I hope the end a different turn will take
From the beginning. Here in open field
Another fortune may attend thy arms!"
Waltari did not deign to answer him,

But turning to stern Hagen, gently said:
"O Hagen, my old friend, what has occurred,
That as an enemy thou com'st to me?

Hast thou forgot the tears which thou didst shed,
When lying in my arms for the last time,

That thus thou treatest me, thy faithful friend?
Indeed, I thought the day that we should meet
Would be a joyous one for thee and me,
And that with open arms and loving words
Thou wouldst accost me. Oh, how oft my heart
Has beat with restless longing, when I thought
Of thee, so far away, yet still my friend.
Hast thou forgotten then our boyish days,

When both did work and strive for one great aim?
Then, when I looked into thine eyes I felt
As if my parents and my home were near,
And so I kept my love and faith for thee.
For this I pray thee to depart in peace,
And as a friendly gift I'll fill thy shield.
With gold and jewels even to the brim."

But with fierce frowning brow and angry voice
Sir Hagen to this speech made brief reply:
"Indeed, I think that thou didst break thy faith
When by thy cruel sword my nephew fell.

His life and not thy gold I claim from thee,

And nought will hear of friendship past and gone."

Thus speaking he alighted from his horse

As likewise did Waltari and the king;