With slender twig one blow thereon
Burst lock and bolt in two.
Wide open creaked the folding door,
And grave on grave they hurried o'er,
And tombstones gleamed around
Upon the moonlit ground.

Ha! look! see there! within a trice,
Wheugh! wheugh! a horrid wonder!
The rider's jerkin, piece by piece,
Like tinder falls asunder.
Upon his head no lock of hair,

A naked skull all grisly bare;
A skeleton, alas!

With scythe and hour-glass.

The snorting charger pranced and neighed,

Fire from his nostrils came,

Ho, ho! at once beneath the maid

He vanished in the flame.

And howl on howl ran through the sky,

From out the pit a whining cry;

Lenore's heart was wrung,

"Twixt life and death she hung.

Now in the moonlight danced the train.

Of phantom spirits round,

In giddy circles, in a chain;

Thus did their howl resound:

"Forbear! forbear! though hearts should break,
Blaspheme not, lest God's wrath thou wake!

Thy body's knell we toll.

May God preserve thy soul!"

THE WIVES OF WEINSBERG.1

WHICH Way to Weinsberg? neighbor, say!
'Tis sure a famous city:

It must have cradled, in its day,
Full many a maid of noble clay,

And matrons wise and witty;

And if ever marriage should happen to me,
A Weinsberg dame my wife shall be.

1 Translated by C. T. Brooks: Reprinted from "Representative German Poems" by the courtesy of Mrs. Charles T. Brooks.

King Conrad once, historians say,
Fell out with this good city;
So down he came, one luckless day,
Horse, foot, dragoons, in stern array,-
And cannon, more's the pity!
Around the walls the artillery roared,
And bursting bombs their fury poured.

But naught the little town could scare;
Then, red with indignation,

He bade the herald straight repair
Up to the gates, and thunder there
The following proclamation: -
"Rascals! when I your town do take,
No living thing shall save its neck!"
Now, when the herald's trumpet sent
These tidings through the city,
To every house a death knell went;
Such murder-cries the hot air rent
Might move the stones to pity.
Then bread grew dear, but good advice
Could not be had for any price.

Then, "Woe is me!" "O misery!"

What shrieks of lamentation!

And "Kyrie Eleison!" cried

The pastors, and the flock replied,

"Lord! save us from starvation!"

"Oh, woe is me, poor Corydon

My neck, my neck! I'm gone, I'm gone!"

Yet oft, when counsel, deed, and prayer

Had all proved unavailing,

When hope hung trembling on a hair,
How oft has woman's wit been there!

A refuge never failing;

For woman's wit and Papal fraud,
Of olden time, were famed abroad.

A youthful dame, praised be her name!-
Last night had seen her plighted, -
Whether in waking hour or dream,
Conceived a rare and novel scheme,

Which all the town delighted;
Which you, if you think otherwise,
Have leave to laugh at and despise.

"The women have free leave to go,

Each with her choicest treasure;

But let the knaves their husbands know
That unto them the King will show

The weight of his displeasure."
With these sad terms the lovely train
Stole weeping from the camp again.
And when the morning gilt the sky,

What happened? Give attention:
The city gates wide open fly,
And all the wives come trudging by,

Each bearing-need I mention? -
Her own dear husband on her back,
All snugly seated in a sack!

Full many a sprig of court, the joke
Not relishing, protested,

And urged the King; but Conrad spoke: "A monarch's word must not be broke!" And here the matter rested.

"Bravo!" he cried, "Ha, ha! Bravo!
Our lady guessed it would be so."

He pardoned all, and gave a ball
That night at royal quarters.

The fiddles squeaked, the trumpets blew,
And up and down the dancers flew,
Court sprigs with city daughters.
The mayor's wife- O rarest sight! -
Danced with the shoemaker that night!
Ah, where is Weinsberg, sir, I pray?
'Tis sure a famous city:
It must have cradled in its day
Full many a maid of noble clay,

And matrons wise and witty;
And if ever marriage should happen to me,
A Weinsberg dame my wife shall be.

EDMUND BURKE.

EDMUND BURKE, an illustrious British statesman, orator, and essayist, born at Dublin (most probably on Jan. 12, 1729); died at his acquired estate of Beaconsfield, in England, July 8, 1797. He was the son of an attorney in large practice and of some estate. In 1743 Burke went to the Dublin University, where in 1748 he took the degree of B.A. Being destined by his father for the English bar, he went to London in 1750, to keep his terms at the Temple. But he inclined to letters rather than to law, and in 1750 began literary work. Elected to Parliament, he made his first speech in 1766; and from that date until 1790 was one of the chief guides and inspirers of the revived Whig party.

In 1788 the House of Commons voted that Warren Hastings, late Governor-General of India, should be impeached before the House of Lords for high crimes and misdemeanors, and Burke was placed at the head of the commission charged with conducting the impeachment. The trial of Hastings, formally begun in February, 1788, was protracted for more than six years, memorable in history as the era of the French Revolution.

Hastings was found Not Guilty by the House of Lords, and shortly afterward (in June, 1794) Burke gave up his seat in the House of Commons. He was broken in health, and soon suffered a severe domestic loss in the death of Richard Burke, his only surviving son. His speeches and pamphlets are still considered the most striking and suggestive manuals of political philosophy in modern times. They, with his miscellaneous writings, are all included in his "Works and Correspondence" (8 vols., 1852). Among his most important works aside from his speeches are: "A Philosophical Inquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful" (1756); "Reflections on the French Revolution" (1790); and "Letters on a Regicide Peace."

FROM THE SPEECH ON "CONCILIATION WITH AMERICA.” SIR,It is not a pleasant consideration; but nothing in the world can read so awful and so instructive a lesson as the conduct of the Ministry in this business, upon the mischief of