need were, having mighty power and estates in the county. So I mounted my good steed, and made my journey happily, till a post gelding, for on the road I had exchanged, hoping to be furthered thereby, within ten miles of Leicester, cast a shoe. The frost being hard in the ground, I could not speed without, so stopped at the first smith's: he was gone to the town. A little child told me it was to be the greatest holiday ever known in those parts; "they were going to burn that great witch, Dame Margaret Hubert." I had not one moment to spare; I urged my good horse; he felt lame; I urged him still; I came to the entrance of the market-place: the country folks were wedged so thick, 1 could win no further. I saw over their heads a white form seated in a high chair, and near it burning faggots. I saw dark men lead that figure from its place. I saw no more. I shouted that I brought a pardon. I offered gold to any one who could convey it to the sheriff. I threw myself among the crowd, in a vain endeavour to force my own way. I reeled and fell, and was trampled under foot. I gave all I possessed to the wretches who bound her to the stake, for a handful of ashes-all that remained of her I so cruelly murdered. I wandered. as soon as I was able to stand, into the open country, and met Alice Burt, from whom I fled as from a demon. The fever having left me, and my mind being clear, I am ready to go to the stake, and joyfully to bear any tortures man can inflict, if you, who are honourable and worshipful gentlemen, will see the memory of Margaret righted, and publish over the nation this confession. And for my leian Alice, I seduced her; she was a perjured and guilty wretch; but I made her so, and I pray she may es cape a heavy judgment, lest her blood also should rest on my head. I have sinned, and must bear my agony, though none can tell how great that is. If the rev. divine who hath listened to this can embolden me to pray to God, I do beseech him so to do; hitherto I have not dared. Surely there is no forgiveness for me? I must not pray!" This wretched man was taken in charge of the constables that night, and next morning betimes they carried him towards Leicester; but he fainted and died before they arrived at their journey's end. The case was brought before a special commission, and his body judged to be hanged in chains, with great ignominy. This affair made much stir in the country, and was the cause that from that time greater caution was observed in the trial of these suspected of witchcraft, seeing that wicked and revengeful persons might otherwise swear falsely, to the great detriment of the guiltless. It appearing that John Burt had been entirely deceived by his daughter and her paramour, he was discharged, but lived only a very little time after his said daughter was hanged, which punishment she justly underwent. fair marble in her parish church, testifies to the virtuous life, and most undeserved death, of the Dame Margaret Hubert. "Whom God assoil." A. M. H. A ANTHOLOGIA GERMANICA.-NO. XX. SIMROCK'S POEMS.* KARL JOSEPH SIMROCK, one of the most popular of the second-rate order of German poets, was born on the 28th of August, 1802, at Bonn, where his father followed the profession of a musician. He received the rudiments of his education at the Lyceum, and entered the university of his native city in 1818, where he soon gave indications of considerable talent, and was favourably noticed by his instructors. In his twenty-first year he was appointed to two important offices in succession at the Prussian court; but it was not until 1827 that his first literary work, an adaptation of the Nibelungen Lied, attracted public attention towards him as a poet. The success of this work, which was honoured by the eulogy of Goethe and other distinguished writers, encouraged Simrock to bolder efforts, and he was rapidly rising among the elite of the intellectual society at Berlin when an unfortunate poem, which he wrote on the Revolution of 1830, led to his temporary expulsion from Prussia, and compelled him to seek subsistence elsewhere through the medium of his literary labours alone. He still, however, continued to publish occasionally at Berlin, where, in 1831, he brought out his "Sources of Shakespeare's Dramas, being a series of Tales, Novels, and Legends," in three vols., which were edited by Echtenmayer and Henschel, and formed a part of a larger series, comprehending a Library of the Romances of all ages and countries. About this period he translated or adapted the poems of Walter von der Vogelweide, the Chaucer of Germany; which were followed by the epic of Wieland the Smith, a poem that attracted much attention from Chamisso and other eminent men, but did not encrease the celebrity of its author with the mass of his readers. His Legends of the Rhine, published in 1837, attained a much greater popularity, and were not less favourably reviewed by the French and English critics than by the German. Since 1839 Simrock has edited, in conjunction with Freiligrath and Matzerath, the very delightful annual entitled, "The Rhine Yearbook of Art and Poetry," and has also produced the poems of "Solomon and Morolf," "The Seven Wise Masters," and " Henry the Lion," with a prose work on the artistical monuments of Saxony. He is established, we believe, permanently in Bonn, his birth-place, living there in an atmosphere of perpetual intellectual sunshine, and is not more admired in all circles for his genius than beloved by his friends for his urbanity of manners and the peculiar kindliness and tenderness of his disposition. Simrock, like Uhland, Kerner, Tieck, and the other leaders or pupils of the Romantic School, dedicates himself chiefly to the illustration of the usages and feelings of the Middle Ages, as these have been represented by the quaint old chroniclers of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Without displaying the deep abstract reverence of Herder, or shewing such a knowledge of minute detail as La Motte Fouqué, he surpasses both in the grace and vivacity of his style, and though less deeply devout than Schwab, and perhaps not so imaginative in his notions of angels and spirits, as Kerner his religious tendencies are, we think, quite as apparent on the surface of his works as they need be. The poem which we are about to quote furnishes a fair sample of the character of most of his ballads. The Knight of the Swan. A ROMANCE. The Gräfinn Ella lieth a captive in the Raven Tower. All helpless in the Raven Tower the Gräfinn Ella lay, All helpless and despairful: if within a year and day Gedichte, &c., Poems by Karl Simrock, 8vo. Leipsic, 1844. No champion came to break her bonds, the drooping one must wed The knight who held her thus in thrall, her guardian, Kenelred, Who rather should have shielded her, the iron Kenelred, And she sighed, Sadly sighed, ever sighed, through the night's long hours. No deliverer cometh to rescue her. Alas! she found no champion, and Spring looked glistening, Of the giant might of Kenelred, whose life was charmed of Hell, Sadly sighed, ever sighed, through the night's long hours. Wherefore she imploreth God for succour. In prayer before the Crucifix she kissed her prison-floor, Sadly sighed, ever sighed, through the night's long hours. Of her rosary and its bell. On her white neck a rosary of gold and pearl did rest, And she sighed, Sadly sighed, ever sighed, through the night's long hours. Meanwhile Prince Astolpho mourneth for his ailing mother. And he sighed, Sadly sighed, ever sighed, through the night's long hours. And the tinkling of the Gräfinn's bell cometh on his ear by night. And, as he lay unrestful, half awake and half asleep, And he sighed, Sadly sighed, ever sighed, through the night's long hours. Night after night he heareth it. And every night, and all night long, so lay he slumber-bound; And he sighed, Sadly sighed, ever sighed, through the night's long hours. VOL. XXVI.-No. 151. D He asketh Father Romauld to explain the mystery. So, to the holy monk, Romauld, who knew all mysteries, The marvellous tale at last he told, on bare and bended knees. "What may they mean?" he asked, "good father, this lament and bell? All night they haunt my slumbers, all day my thoughts as well All day they trouble my waking thoughts, all night my dreams as well. And I sigh, Sadly sigh, ever sigh, through the night's long hours." The Father telleth him that he is the Gräfinn's destined avenger. And she sighs, Sadly sighs, ever sighs, through the night's long hours. And prophesieth unto him his future fortune. "Him, that successful traitor, thou shalt fight and overcome ; And thou shalt wed the damosel, and make her halls thy home. As Knight of the Swan thy hand and heart on her thou shalt bestow; And whence thou comest, and who thou art, not thou thyself shalt know! What name thou bearest, and who thou art, not even thyself shalt know, Who hast sighed, Sadly sighed, ever sighed, through the night's long hours! But annexeth unto his prophecy a solemn warning. "But, woe to her peace of soul and thine if once she question thee! In that calamitous moment thou again art fatally free Again the gloom of by-gone years shall overdark thy lot, And, ghost-like, shall come back to thee all griefs thou hadst forgotLike spectres shall come back to thee the griefs thou hadst forgot. Thou shalt sigh, Sadly sigh, ever sigh, through the night's long hours!" A swan cometh over the sea for the Prince. Up rose the youth with another soul, and angel strength of frame. "What, ho!" he cried, "my squire, my steed! Quick-hither!" But neither came; And, in lieu of both, a silver swan, attached by a golden band And he sighed, Softly sighed, ever sighed, through the night's long hours. Who embarketh in a boat of pearl. "Ah, so! I know thee, beauteous bird, I know thine errand!" he cried. "In thy fairy boat shall I pleasantly float to the home of my destined bride! Thou gracious Wind, I bid thee be kind till the break of another day!" Then lightly stepped he into the boat, and joyously fared away. So lightly stepped he into the boat, and joyously fared away. Yet he sighed, Softly sighed, ever sighed, through the night's long hours. The Gräfinn is taunted by her captor, Sir Kenelred. The Year of grace was over, and the doomful Day was come. "How sayest thou now, fair devotee ?"- -so ran his taunting speech"Where dawns the help from Heaven or Man thy whining prayers beseech? Forsaken art thou by the Heaven thine idle prayers beseech!" And she sighed, Sadly sighed, ever sighed, through the night's long hours. Who giveth her some unacceptable advice. "Thy sighs are lost in the whistling winds that wander about these halls; Sadly sighed, ever sighed, through the night's long hours. But now the Swan draweth near the land. When, hark! a sweet, soft melody, like mingled flute and song, Sadly sighed, ever sighed, through the night's long hours. And the Prince addresseth Ella. The whole night long the Prince had lain unslumbering on his shield, But now, as one whose laurels grew as yet on the battle-field, He sprang to his feet, while his pale blue sword rayed out in the morning beam, And, glancing up at the captive's Tower, he spake as in a dream- As so oft he had sighed through the night's long hours. He acquainteth her with his purpose. "Thou wronged and suffering maiden, I lift my voice to thee! The Mighty One thou callest on, beholding thy bitter woe, Sadly sighed, not in vain, through the night's long hours! And biddeth her be of good cheer. "Medreams I have met that face before, though where I cannot tell, But shalt sigh never more through the night's long hours." After which he dismisseth the Swan. Then, bowing low before the Fair, as ever beseems the Brave, Who had sighed Ever sighed, sadly sighed, through the night's long hours. |