TRANSLATION

OF

A FRAGMENT OF A DANISH SONG.

KING CHRISTIAN stood beside the mast,
In smoky night;

His falchion fell like hammer fast,
And brains and helms asunder brast;

Then sunk each hostile hull and mast
In smoky night;

Fly, fly! they shriek'd-what mortal man
Can strive with Denmark's Christian

In fight?

Niels Juel raised a warrior cry,

"Now, now's the day!"

He hoisted up the red flag high,

And dash'd amidst the enemy

With blow on blow, and cry on cry, "Now, now's the day!”

And still they shriek'd--" Fly, Sweden, fly! When Juel comes, what strength shall try

The fray?"

TRANSLATION

OF

AN INSCRIPTION ON A MONUMENT,

INTENDED TO PERPETUATE THE MEMORY OF THE FRIENDSHIP OF TWO PERSONS WHO WERE LIVING WHEN IT WAS WRITTEN.

"MAY every light-wing'd moment bear

A blessing to this noble pair.

Long may they love the rural ease

Of these fair scenes, and scenes like these;
The pine's dark shade, the mountain tall,
And the deep dashing waterfall.

And when each hallow'd spirit flies

To seek a better paradise,

Beneath this turf their ashes dear

Shall drink their country's grateful tear;

In death alike and life possessing

The rich man's love, the poor man's blessing."

VERSIFICATION

OF

THE SPEECH OF GEOORGIN TO BEYUN.

(FROM THE SHAH NAMEH.)

SEEST thou yon shelter'd vale of various dye,
Refreshing prospect to the warrior's eye?
Yon dusky grove, yon garden blooming fair,
The turf of velvet, and of musk the air?

Surcharged with sweets the languid river glides,
The lilies bending o'er its silver tides;

While through the copse in bashful beauty glows
The dark luxuriance of the lurking rose.
Now seen, now lost, amid the flowery maze,
With slender foot the nimble pheasant strays;
The ringdove's murmur lulls the cypress dell,
And richest notes of tranced Philomel.
Still, still the same, through every circling year,
Unwearied spring renews an Eden here.

And mark, my friend, where many a sylph-like maid
Weaves the lithe dance beneath the citron shade!
Where chief, of Touran's king the matchless child,
Beams like a sun-ray through this scented wild;
Sitara next, her sister, beauteous queen,
Than rose or fairest jasmine fairer seen;
And last, their Turkish maids, whose sleepy eyes
Laugh from beneath each envious veil's disguise;
Whose length of locks the coal-black musk disclose,
Their forms the cypress, and their cheeks the rose;
While on their sugar'd lips the grape's rich water glows.
How blest the traveller not forbid to stay

In such sweet bowers the scorching summer's day!
How famed the knight whose dauntless arm should bear
To great Khi-Kusroo's court a Turkish fair!

FROM THE MOALLAKAH OF HARETH.

AND Asma! lovely sojourner! wilt thou forsake our land, Forgetful of thy plighted vows on Shamma's glittering

sand?

No more in Shoreb's rugged dell I see thee by my side, No more in Katha's mead of green where vocal waters glide!

In Ayla and in Shobathan all lonely must I go,

And, therefore, sleep has fled my soul, and fast my sorrows

flow!

Yet am I loved, and yet my eyes behold the beacon light, Which Hinda kindles on her hill, to lure me through the night,

Broad as the dawn, from Akik's brow its ruddy embers shine, But Hinda's heart may never meet an answering glow in

mine!

And I must seek a nobler aid against consuming care, Where all the brethren of my tribe the battle bow prepare.

My camel with the mother-bird in swiftness well may vie, Tall as a tent, 'mid desert sands that rears her progeny, That lists the murmur of the breeze, the hunter's lightest. sound

With stealthy foot at twilight fall soft gliding o'er the ground;

But not the ostrich speed of fire my camel can excel, Whose footstep leaves so light a mark we guess not where

it fell;

Now up, now down, like wither'd leaves that fit before the

wind,

On her I stem the burning noon that strikes the valiant

blind.

Yes, we have heard an angry sound of danger from afar, Our brother's bands of Tayleb's seed have braved us to the

war;

The good and evil they confound, their words are fierce

and fell,

"Their league," say they, "is with the tribe that in the desert dwell.”

Their men of might have met by night, and as the day

began,

A proud and a disdainful shout throughout their army ran, And horses neigh'd, and camels scream'd, and man cried out on man!

TRANSLATION OF AN ODE OF KLOPSTOCK'S.

HE.

АH Selma! if our love the fates should sever,
And bear thy spirit from the world below,
Then shall mine eyes be wet with tears for ever,
Each gloomy morn, each night of darker woe;
Each hour, that pass'd so soon in thy embracing,
Each minute keenly felt shall force a tear;
The long, long months! the years so slowly pacing!
Which all were swift alike, and all were dear.