GOTTFRIED AUGUST BÜRGER. 1748-1794. Bürger, from his youth, was irregular in his habits, and suffered much misfortune through life. He was unhappy in three marriages, and finally died in circumstances of great wretchedness. He was extensively acquainted with the literature of other countries, and devoted himself to the cultivation of poetry. His Ballads rank among the first in the German language. Ellenore is considered the best of them. [Translated from the German, by W. Taylor.] ELLENORE. AT break of day, from frightful dreams, "My William, art thou slain?" she said, He went abroad, with Richard's host, With blore of trump, and thump of drum, His fellow-soldiers come; Their helms bedeckt with oaken boughs, "Thank God!" their wives and children said; But greet or kiss gave Ellenore And when the soldiers all were by, And cast herself upon the ground, In furious despair. Her mother ran and lift her up, And clasped in her arm; "My child! my child! what dost thou ail? She beat her breast, and wrung her hands, From rise of morn till the pale stars When, hark! abroad she heard the tramp Of nimble-footed steed; She heard a knight with clank alight, And soon she heard a tinkling hand, And through her door, that opened not, "What ho! what ho! thy door undo! Art watching, or asleep? My love, dost yet remember me? "Ah! William, here so late at night? "At midnight only we may ride; "All as thou liest upon thy couch, Arise and mount behind; To-night we 'll ride a thousand miles, The bridal bed to find!" * "And where is, then, thy house and home, And bridal bed so neat?" Tramp, tramp, across the land they speed; Splash, splash, across the sea : "Hurrah! the dead can ride apace; Dost fear to ride with me??? And brush, brush, brush, a ghostly crew And, lo! an iron-grated gate He cracked his whip; the locks, the bolts, They pass, and 't was on graves they trod "'T is hither we are bound :" And many a tombstone ghastly white And when he from his steed alight, His armor, black as cinder, Did moulder, moulder all away, As were it made of tinder. His head became a naked skull; And at his dry and bony heel No spur was left to be; And in his withered hand you might And, lo! his steed did thin to smoke, And paled, and bleached, then vanished quite And hollow howlings hung in air, But onward to the judgment-seat, Through mist and moonlight drear, The ghostly crew their flight pursue, And halloo in her ear: "Be patient; though thine heart should break, Arraign not Heaven's decree; Thou now art of thy body reft, JOHANN WOLFGANG VON GOETHE. 1749-1832. From a child, Goethe was favorably situated for the development of his talents; his love of art was cultivated by the pictures and engravings with which his father's house was filled. "His works embrace almost every department of literature, and many of the sciences. They have exercised an immense influence, not only in Germany, but over the whole civilized world. His countrymen are fond of calling him the Many-sided." He was born in Frankfort-on-the-Mayn; but the greater part of his life was spent at Weimar, at the Court of the Grand Duke. [Translated from the German.] THE ERL KING. WHO rideth so late through the night-wind wild? It is the father with his child: He has the little one well in his arm; He holds him safe, and he folds him warm. |