Seen her, in fhort, in ev'ry part,

Difcernment, temper, figure, heart,
So perfect, that 'till Heav'n remove her!
I must admire, court her, love her
Molly, I fpeak the thing I mean;

So rare a woman I have seen;
And fend this honeft glafs, that you,
Whene'er you please, may fee her too!

LENOR A.

A BALLAD, FROM BURGER.

From the Monthly Magazine.

The following translation (made fome years fince) of a celebrated piece, of which other verfions have appeared, poffeffes fo much peculiar and intrinfic merit, that we have given it the preference in this Selection.

A

T break of day, with frightful dreams
Lenora ftruggled fore:

My William, art thou flaine, fay'd the,
Or doft thou love no more?

He went abroade with Richard's hoft,

The Paynim foes to quell :

But he no word to her had writ,

An he were fick or well.

With fowne of trump, and beat of drum,
His fellow-foldyers come;

Their helmes bydeckt with oaken boughs,
They feeke their long'd-for home. ]

And ev'ry roade and ev'ry lane

Was full of old and young,

To gaze at the rejoicing band,

To hail with gladfome toung.

"Thank God?" their wives and children faide,
"Welcome!" the brides did faye :

But greete or kifs Lenora gave

To none upon that daye.

She afkte of all the pafling traine,

For him the witht to fee:

But none of all the paffing traine
Could tell if lived hee.

And when the foldyers all were bye,

She tore her raven haire,

And caft herfelf upon the grownę
In furious despaire.

Her

Her mother ran and lyfte her up,

"

And clafped in her arme,

My child, my child, what doft thou ail?"
God fhield thy life from harm !"

"O mother, mother! William's gone!
What's all befydes to me?
There is no mercye, fure, above!
All, all were spar'd but hee!
"Knell downe, thy paternofter faye,
"Twill calm thy troubled fpright:
The Lord is wyfe, the Lord is good;
What hee hath done is right."
"O mother, mother! fay not fo;
Moft cruel is my fate:

I prayde, and prayde; but watte avayl'd?
"Tis now! alas too late."

"Our Heavenly Father if we praye,
Will help a fuff'ring childe:
Go take the holy facrament;
So fhall thy grief grow milde."

"O-mother, what I feel within,
No facrament can staye;
No facrament can teche the dead
To bear the fight of daye."
"May be, among the heathen folk
Thy William false doth prove,
And puts away his faith and troth,
And takes another love.

Then wherefore forrow for his lofs?
Thy moans are all in vain :
And when his foul and body parte,
His falfehode brings him paine."

"O mother, mother! gone is gone:
My hope is all forlorne:

The grave mie onlye fafeguarde is
O, had I ne'er been borne !

Go out, go out, my lampe of life;
In grillie darkness die:

There is no mercye, fure above!
For ever let me die!"

66

Almighty God! O do not judge

My poor unhappy child;

She knows not what her lips pronounce,
Her anguish makes her wilde.

VOL, XXXVIII.

K k

My

My girl, forget thine earthly woe,
And think on God and blifs;
For fo, at leaft, fhall not thy foule
Its heavenly bridegroom mifs."
"O mother, mother! what is bliffe,
And what the fiendis celle?
With him 'tis heaven any where,
Without my William, helle.

"Go out, go out, my lamp of life;
In endless darknefs die:
Without him I muft loathe the earth,
Without him 'fcorne the skye."
And so despaire did rave and rage
Athwarte her boiling veins;
Against the Providence of Heaven
She hurlde her impious ftrains.

She bet her breafte, and wrung her hands,
And rollde her tearleffe eye,

From rife of morne, till the pale ftars
Again did freeke the skye.

When harke! abroade the hearde the trampe
Of nimble-hoofed fteed;

She hearde a knighte with clank alight,

And climb the staire in speede.

And foon fhe herde a tinkling hande,

That twirled at the pin;

And thro' her door, that open'd not,
These words were breathed in.

"What ho! what ho! thy dore undoe;

Art watching or afleepe?

My love, doft yet remember mee,
And doft thou laugh or weep?"

"Ah! William here fo late at night!
Oh! I have watchte and wak'd:
Whence doft thou come? For thy return
My herte has forely ak'd."

"At midnight only we may ride

I come o'er land and fea :

I mounted late, but foone I go;
Aryfe, and come with me."

"O William, enter first my bowre,
And give me one embrace:

The blafts athwarte the hawthorne hifs
Awayte a little space.".

"The blafts athwarte the hawthorn
I may not harboure here;

My fpurre is sharpe, my courfer pawes,
My houre of flighte is nere.

All as thou lyeft upon thy couch,
Aryfe, and mounte behinde ;
To-night we'le ride a thousand miles,
The bridal bed to finde."

"How, ride to-night a thousand miles?
Thy love thou doft bemocke:
Eleven is the ftroke that ftill

Rings on within the clocke."

"Looke up; the moone is bright, and we Outftride the earthlie men:

I'll take thee to the bridal bed,

And night shall end but then."

"And where is, then, thy house and home;
And where thy bridal bed?"
"Tis narrow, filent, chilly, dark;
Far hence I reft my head."

"And is there any room for mee,
Wherein that I may creepe,"

"There's room enough for thee and mee,

Wherein that wee may fleepe.

All as thou ly'ft upon thy couch,
Aryfe, no longer stop;

The wedding guefts thy coming waite,

The chamber dore is ope."

All in her farke, as there she lay,
Upon his horse she sprung:
And with her lily hands fo pale
About her William clung.

And hurry-fkurry forth they go,
Unheeding wet or dry;

And horse and rider fnort and blow,

And sparkling pebbles fly.

How swift the flood, the mead, the wood,

Aright, aleft, are gone!

The bridges thunder as they pass,

But earthlie fowne is none.

Tramp, tramp, across the land they speede;

Splash, fplath, across the fee;

"Hurrah! the dead can ride apace;

Doft feare to ride with mee?

The moone is bryghte, and blue the nyghte;
Doft quake the blaft to ftem?

Doft fhudder, mayde, to feeke the dead?"
No, no, but what of them?

How glumlie fownes yon dirgye fong!
Night-ravens flappe the wing,
What knell doth flowlie toll ding-dong?
The pfalmes of death who fing?

It creeps, the fwarthie funeral traine,
The corfe is onn the beere ;

Like croke of todes from lonely moores,
The chaunte doth meet the eere."

"Go, bear her corfe when midnight's paft,
With fong, and tear, and wayle;
I've gott my wife, I take her home,
My howre of wedlocke hayl.

Lead forth, O clarke, the chaunting quire,
To fwell our nuptial song:

Come, priefte, and reade the blefling foone;
For bed, for bed we long."

They heede his calle, and hufht the fowne;
The biere was feene no more;

And followde him ore feeld and flood
Yet fafter than before.

Hallo! hallo! away they goe,

Unheeding wet or drye;

And horfe and rider fnort and blowe,
And fparkling pebbles flye.

How fwifte the hill, how fwifte the dale,
Aright, aleft, are gone!

By hedge and tree, by thorpe and towne,
They gallop, gallop on.

Tramp, tramp, across the land they speede;
Splath, fplash, acroffe the fee;
"Hurrah! the dead can ride apace;

Doft fear to ride with mee?

Look up, look up, an airy crewe

In roundel daunces reele:

The moone is bryghte, and blue the nyghte,

Mayft dimlie fee them wheele.

Come to, come to, ye goftlie crew,

Come to, and follow mee,

And daunce for us the wedding daunce,

When we in bed fhall be."

And