One long year he bears his sorrow, But no more can bear; Leaves the army there; At her father's castle-portal, With the thunder-word: Is the bride of Heaven; Yester-eve the vows were plighted, – She to God is given." Then his old ancestral castle Battle-steed and trusty weapon Never more he sees. From the Toggenburg descending, Forth unknown he glides; There beside that hallowed region Waiting from the morning's glimmer Tranquil hope in every feature, Gazing upward to the convent, Till that form looked forth so lovely, Till the sweet face smiled Then he laid him down to slumber, Thus for days he watched and waited, Thus for years he lay, Happy if he saw the lattice Open day by day ; If that form looked forth so lovely, Down into the lonesome valley, Peaceful, angel-mild. There a corse they found him sitting Once when day returned, Still his pale and placid features To the lattice turned. From the German of Schiller. 66 XLVIII THE LAKE OF THE DISMAL SWAMP. 'They made her a grave too cold and damp For a soul so warm and true; And she's gone to the Lake of the Dismal Swamp, Where, all night long, by a fire-fly lamp She paddles her white canoe. "And her fire-fly lamp I soon shall see, Away to the Dismal Swamp he speeds. And, when on the earth he sunk to sleep, He lay, where the deadly vine doth weep And near him the she-wolf stirred the brake And the white canoe of my dear?" He saw the Lake, and a meteor bright "Welcome," he said, " my dear one's light!" Till he hollowed a boat of the birchen bark, Far, far he followed the meteor spark, The wind was high and the clouds were dark, But oft, from the Indian hunter's camp, Are seen at the hour of midnight damp And paddle their white canoe! MOORE. XLIX LORD ULLIN'S DAUGHTER. A chieftain to the Highlands bound, "Now, who be ye would cross Lochgyle, This dark and stormy water?" "O, I'm the chief of Ulva's isle, "And fast before her father's men "His horsemen hard behind us ride- Out spoke the hardy Highland wight, It is not for your silver bright, K |