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Far as arrow reacheth,
Wide his kingdom lies;
And he claims as booty

All that creeps and flies.

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The Maiden's Lament.

THE black clouds lowered o'er the tossing wood,
On the green of the shore the maiden stood;
The billows came thundering in with might,

And she sighed out her grief to the dark'ning night, all beclouded with sadness

Her eyes
My heart it is withered, the world is bare,
It can give me nothing for which I care;

:

Thou Holy One, take now Thy child above!
I have done with life-I have done with love-
I have tasted the earthly gladness."

"In vain flow the tears from the eyes that weep,
No wailing awakens the dead from their sleep!
But say what can comfort and heal the heart,
After all the sweet pleasures of love depart,

I will send it thee, child, from above."
"Oh let the tears flow, though in vain I must weep,
And my wailing awakes not the dead from his sleep!
The sweetest relief to the sorrowing heart,

After all the dear pleasures of love depart,

Are the woes and the wailings of love!"

GERMAN LYRICS-MISCELLANEOUS.

Charlemagne's Voyage.

WITH his twelve peers King Charles set sail,
For the Holy Land steer'd he;
But sudden uprose a stormy gale,
And caught them in mid-sea.

Then outspake Roland, the hero brave:
"I can use both sword and shield;
But against the force of the mighty wave
Such weapons we cannot wield!”

"With my harp," said Holger, the lordly Dane, "I can make the sternest weep; But Orpheus himself would strive in vain, To lull these winds to sleep!"

Sir Oliver gazed on his trusty blade That had been in many a fight; “I care not so much for myself,” he said, "As for Alta Clara bright."

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Then thought the wicked Ganelon,
And mutter'd within his breast:

Were I but safe on shore alone,

The devil might take the rest!"

Archbishop Turpin, sighing, prayed:
"Thy soldiers, Lord, are we;
Come, dearest Saviour, grant Thine aid,
And speed us o'er the sea!"

Count Richard the Dauntless then began:
"Ye fiends of the nether hell,
Oft have I served you like a man ;
Now serve me just as well!"

Lord Naimé said: "Much counsel wise

Is given in many a matter;
But oft on shipboard good advice

Is scarce as good fresh water!”

Lord Riol the others thus addressed:
"A warrior old am I,

And I could wish my bones to rest,
Where all my fathers lie.”

Then sweetly sang the young Sir Guy:
"Had I the wings of a dove,
I'd soar beyond this storm, and fly
To the arms of my lady-love!"

Outspake the noble Count Garein : "May the gods propitious be!

For I'd rather quaff good Rhenish wine, Than the water of the sea!"

The

gay Lord Lambert echoed the wish : "May the gods propitious be!

For I'd much rather eat good fish,

Than have good fish eat me!"

Sir Godfrey spoke with calm despair :

"I yield to the adverse Fates;
And, after all, I only share

The doom of my trusty mates."

King Charles sat calm amid this band,
And never a word spake he;

But steer'd the ship with steady hand

Thro' the wild and stormy sea!

Uhland.

On the Death of a Child.

SHE came- -she went-a passing guest,
With traceless footstep light and low :
Whence?-whither ?-ah! it stands confessed--

From God-to God-is all we know !

Uhland.

O lieb', so lang.

OH love, and let thy love be true!

Oh love, and let thy love be deep!

There comes an hour-there comes an hour-
When at the grave thou'lt stand and weep!

See that thy heart doth ever glow

With love, and ever love enshrine,
As long as any other heart

In love responsive beats to thine.

Whoe'er to thee unlocks his soul,

For him do all within thy power;

For him fill every day with joy,

And give him no unhappy hour.

Oh guard thy speech with jealous care!
Forth from thy tongue the wild word leaps;
God knows it was not meant for ill!
But yet thy friend in secret weeps.

Oh love, and let thy love be true!

Oh love, and let thy love be deep!

There comes an hour-there comes an hour---
When at the grave thou'lt stand and weep!

Amid the tall, dank churchyard grass,
Thou kneelest down with streaming eyes;
For now thou nevermore canst see

Him who beneath in stillness lies.

Thou criest, "Smile on me, my friend,
Forgive, forgive the wound I gave;
God knows it was not meant for ill!
Oh see me weeping at thy grave!"

But ah! he cannot see or hear;

He comes not to relieve thy woe; The lips that kissed thee cannot say, "Friend, I forgave thee long ago!"

Yes, he forgave; yet, at the time,

Tears ran as if they could not cease;
Sharp was the pain; 'tis over now;
His race is run-he rests in peace.

Then love, and let thy love be true!
Oh love, and let thy love be deep!
There comes an hour-there comes an hour-
When at the grave thou'lt stand and weep!

Freiligrath.

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