And then in trade they'll trust us without fear.” WH Göttingen. SONG. HENE'ER with haggard eyes I view I think of those companions true -niversity of Gottingen- Sweet kerchief, checked with heavenly blue, Alas! Matilda then was true! At least I thought so at the U— -niversity of Gottingen -niversity of Gottingen. Barbs! barbs! alas! how swift you flew Ye bore Matilda from my view; -niversity of Gottingen - This faded form! this pallid hue! -niversity of Gottingen- There first for thee my passion grew, -niversity of Gottingen- Sun, moon, and thou vain world, adieu, -niversity of Gottingen -niversity of Gottingen. George Canning. MARIA-SPRING. ON as the Plesse old and gray; Na wooded comely mount Proudly rise the lonely towers In the landscape far away. "T was a hot and haughty line, Three hundred years 't is dead, Robber barons stern and bold, From the earth their name is fled. Save that these two ruined towers, On the mountain strong and fast. How these barons robbed the merchants Till at last the outraged merchants Hanged the baron from his tower, But the Lady Maria Plesse Was the true wife of her lord; Rather death a thousand times Than capture by this horde. Quick, quick, to horse and fly! Press thy infant to thy breast, Off to Hardenburg with speed, But see, alas! on every hand The road with arméd men beset; She looks in wrath, but not despair, Her wild heart leaps into her eyes, She glances round her sharp and firm, And reins her neighing steed Towards the lofty precipice: Then comes a daring deed. With whip and spur and cheering word Her shrinking courser nears The frowning depth, and piteous neighs, Expressive of his fears. But noble blood is in his veins, He springs into the air, Aghast the struggling warriors pause, And pray a silent prayer. Full thirty feet they thunder down, Mother, child, and horse; And crowded faces peer below To gaze upon the corse. Hurrah! hurrah! from many a throat, Maria has her infant saved, And Plesse's heir is won. Anonymous. Gravelotte. THE STEEDS OF GRAVELOTTE. OT was the day and bloody the fight, HOT Cool was the evening and quiet the night. From the edge of the wood in the valley below Three times the shrill signal-trumpet did blow; Sounding so loudly at break of the day, To call the brave dragoons once more to the fray. Hastily forming in long battle-row, Each man finds his place, and they all charge the foe. But, alas! all the troopers return not again, Many shall rise nevermore from the plain. They come to reveille with strong life flushing red; They lie at recall pale, bleeding, and dead. Riderless horses with broken rein, But, hark! from the wood in the valley below Once more the shrill signal-trumpet doth blow. But, see the black steed, how he pricks up his ear, And, neighing, rejoices the trumpet to hear. |