Translations Of German Poetry In American Magazines 1741-1810 Part 30

If any wun yore hart shool blunder, Mine horshes Ill do vaggon yoke, Und ghase him quickly by mine dunder, I vly zo zwift as any zpoke.

Vhen yonk Vontoofen, my coot frend Zhall c.u.m to zee you vhare you be, Dese skarlet carters I zhall zend, O die dem on, und d.i.n.k on me.

_Port Folio_, II-176, June 5, 1802, Phila.

["se feel" (stanza I). "se" is no Dutch word and the verb "feel"

(voelen) is not reflexive in Dutch. In stanzas III and VI "mill"

appears in the place of "will." This is most likely a misprint, since "_w_ in Dutch is a particularly tenacious sound" and is not replaced by _m_, as is sometimes the case in German. "Brokenbrooks" is a coined word.

The author is indebted for the above information to Professor Wm. H.

Carpenter, of Columbia University, and to Arnold Katz, the Dutch vice-consul at Philadelphia.]

HRIM THOR, OR THE WINTER KING.

A Lapland Ballad.

I shall not soon tire of copying ballads from the "Tales of Terror."

They are the legitimate offspring of genius. We are conducted by a versatile guide, sometimes into the vale of tears, and sometimes into the hall of mirth. But let him lead us where he will, we cheerfully follow and always find ourselves with a sensible and tuneful companion. I am half inclined to suspect that Mr. Lewis himself is the concealed author. We know how he brilliantly travestied his own ballad, Alonzo the Brave, and it is probable that in this collection he is alter et idem.

[The poem follows.]

_Port Folio_, II-195, June 26, 1802, Phila.

[M. G. Lewis, _Tales of Terror_, 1799, Kelso. Cf. p. 18.]

GRIM, KING OF THE GHOSTS, OR THE DANCE OF DEATH.

_Port Folio_, II-199, June 26, 1802, Phila.

[M. G. Lewis, _Tales of Terror_. Cf. p. 18.]

ON THE DEATH OF A BELOVED ONLY SON.

Translated from a Danish Inscription.

By T. CAMPBELL, Esq.

_Port Folio_, II-352, Nov. 1802, Phila.

WRITTEN IN GERMANY, IN AUTUMN, 1801.

Hail, deadly Autumn, and thy fading leaf, I love thee, drear and gloomy as thou art; Not joyful Spring, like thee can soften grief, Nor gaudy Summer soothe the aching heart; But in thy cheerless, solitary bower, Beneath the varied shade, I love to lie, When dusky Evening's melancholy hour With boding clouds obscures the low'ring sky, And tuneless birds and fading flowers appear In grief to hang their heads, and mourn the parting year.

'Tis not the gloomy sky, the parting year, 'Tis not the Winter's dreary reign I mourn, But absent friends--and _one_ than life more dear, And joys departed, never to return!

O gentle Hope, that 'mid Siberia's snows, Can cheer the wretched exile's lingering year, And where the sun on curs'd Oppression glows, Can check the sigh, and wipe the falling tear, Thy gentle care--thy succour I implore; O raise thy heavenly voice, and bid me weep no more.

Thou hears't my prayer--I feel thy holy flame-- And future joys in bright succession rise, And mutual love and friendship--sacred name!

And home and all the blessings that I prize.

Thou, Memory, lendst thy aid, and to my view Each friend I love, and every scene most dear, In forms more bright than ever painter drew, Fresh from thy pencil's magic tint appear.

Roll on, ye lingering hours, that lie between, Till Truth shall realize, and Virtue bless, the scene.

--R.

_N. E. Quarterly Mag._, No. III-271, Oct.-Dec. 1802, Boston.

ALBERT OF WERDENDORFF.

OR, THE MIDNIGHT EMBRACE.

A German Romance.

Nocturnus occurram furor. Hor.

_Port Folio_, IV-334, Oct. 20, 1804, Phila.

[M. G. Lewis, _Tales of Terror_, 1799, Kelso.]

ON THE DEATH OF MR. HANDEL.

In the midst of the performance of his Lent Oratorio, (1759) of the Messiah, nature exhausted, he dropt his head upon the keys of the organ he was playing upon, and with difficulty raised up again. He recovered his spirits, and went on with the performance until the whole was finished. He was carried home, and died.

To melt the soul, to captivate the ear, (Angels such melody might deign to hear,) To antic.i.p.ate on earth the joys of heav'n, 'Twas Handel's task: to him that pow'r was giv'n.

Ah, when he late attuned Messiah's praise, With sound celestial, with melodious lays: A last farewell, his languid looks express'd, And thus, methinks, th' enraptur'd crowd addrest.

"Adieu, my dearest friend, and also you, "Joint sons of sacred harmony, adieu!

"Apollo whispering, prompts me to retire, "And bids me join the bright seraphic choir:

"Oh! for Elijah's car!" great Handel cry'd: Messiah heard his voice, and Handel died.

_Boston Weekly Mag._, II-208, Oct. 20, 1804, Boston.

WRITTEN IN GERMANY, ON ONE OF THE COLDEST DAYS OF THE CENTURY, BY W. WORDSWORTH.

_Port Folio_, IV-342, Oct. 27, 1804, Phila.

[William Wordsworth, _idem_.

"The Reader must be apprised, that the stoves in North Germany generally have the impression of a galloping horse upon them, this being part of the Brunswick arms."]

A HUMBLE IMITATION OF SOME STANZAS, WRITTEN BY W. WORDSWORTH, IN GERMANY, ON ONE OF THE COLDEST DAYS OF THE CENTURY.

'A fig for your languages, German and Norse, Let me have the song of the _kettle_ And the _tongs_ and the _poker_.'--W. W.

[The poem, which contains no references to Germany, follows.]