HOFER.*

I.

STILL to his own wild country true,
Its hills and valleys, waters blue,

And virtue's path to fame ;
The hero burning in his breast,
He kindled every mountain crest,
With Freedom's deathless flame!

II.

Small was his band; but true and brave—-
Nought feared they but the name of slave,
And their bold leader's frown:

From crag, and precipice, and glen,
Till then untrod by breathing men,

They poured a torrent down.

III.

Like the pale lightning's shafts they fell;

How well they fought who well can tell

As they who felt their ire !—

*The thoughts are most of them from Korner, though not fettered in the translation by too close an adherence.

Who heard their shots unerring fly,
Scared by the sons of Liberty,

Scathed by their mountain-fire.

IV.

Where are they now, and where is he?

Gone to the land where all are free;
For him all bonds are past;

His name is in his country's songs,
His fame is on a thousand tongues,

He wears his crown at last.

V.

God's will be done! His arms they bind,
They cannot chain his chainless mind;

He has a triumph yet,

Nobler than arms have ever won;

Adversity but sees his sun

In noon-day splendours set.

VI.

No shade of fear is on his brow,

His step is as a warrior's now

To whom new deeds are given.

His dark eye's on the helmed line,

His smile upon the blaze whose shine

Flashes his life to heaven!

C. R.

THE GREEN-WOOD.

BY WILLIAM HOWITT, ESQ.

1.

THE green-wood! the green-wood! what bosom but

allows

The gladness of the charm that dwells in thy pleasant,

whispering boughs;

How often in this weary world, I pine and long to flee, And lay me down, as I was wont, under the green-wood

tree.

II.

The green wood! the green-wood! to the bold and happy

boy,

Thy realm of shades is a faëry-land of wonder and of

joy.

Oh! for that flushness of the heart, that pure and vivid

thrill,

As he listens to the woodland cries, and wanders at his

will.

III.

The youth delights through thy leafy gloom, and thy

winding walks to rove,

When his simple thought is snared and caught in the subtle webs of love:

Manhood, with high and restless hope, a spirit winged with flame,

Plans in thy bower his path to power, to affluence, or to fame.

IV.

The old man loves thee, when his soul dreams of the world no more,

But his heart is full of its gathered wealth, and he counts it o'er and o'er :

When his race is run, his prize is won, or lost, until the

bound

Of the world unknown is overthrown, and his masterhope is crowned.

V.

The green-wood! the green-wood! oh! be it mine to

lie

In the depth of thy mossy solitude, when summer fills the

sky;

With pleasant sounds and scents around, a tome of ancient

lore,

And a pleasant friend with me to bend, and turn its pages

o'er.

Q

THE BATTLE FIELD.

I.

I LOOKED on the field where the battle was spread,
When thousands stood forth in their glancing array,
And the beam from the steel of the valiant was shed
Through the dun rolling clouds, that o'ershadowed the
fray.

II.

I saw the dark forest of lances appear,―

As the ears of the harvest unnumbered they stood;

I heard the stern shout, as the foemen drew near,

Like the storm, that lays low the proud pines of the

wood.

III.

Afar, the harsh notes of the war-drum were rolled,
Uprousing the wolf from the depths of his lair;
On high to the gust streamed the banner's red fold,

O'er the death-close of Hate, and the scowl of Despair.