And speaketh grimly, The ghost to the dust: "Dry dust! thou dreary one! How little didst thou labour for me! In the foulness of earth Thou all wearest away Like to the loam ! Little didst thou think KING CHRISTIAN. A NATIONAL SONG OF DENMARK.-FROM THE DANISH OF JOHANNES EVALD. KING CHRISTIAN stood by the lofty mast His sword was hammering so fast, Through Gothic helm and brain it passed ; "Fly!" shouted they, “fly, he who can! Nils Juel gave heed to the tempest's roar, He hoisted his blood-red flag once more, And shouted loud, through the tempest's roar, "Fly!" shouted they, "for shelter fly! The power?" North Sea! a glimpse of Wessel rent Thy murky sky! Then champions to thine arms were sent ; From Denmark, thunders Tordenskiol', Path of the Dane to fame and might! Receive thy friend, who, scorning flight, And amid pleasures and alarms, CHILDHOOD. FROM THE DANISH OF JENS BAGGESEN. [BAGGESEN's lyric poems are considered his best productions. Many of them are written with great tenderness of feeling and elegance of style.] THERE was a time when I was very small, When my whole frame was but an ell in height ; Sweetly, as I recall it, tears do fall, And therefore I recall it with delight. I sported in my tender mother's arms, And rode a-horseback on best father's knee; Alike were sorrows, passions, and alarms, And gold, and Greek, and love, unknown to me. Then seemed to me this world far less in size, I saw the moon behind the island fade, And thought, "O, were I on that island there, I could find out of what the moon is made, Find out how large it is, how round, how fair!" Wondering, I saw God's sun, through western skies, And yet upon the morrow early rise, And paint the eastern heaven with crimson light! And thought of God, the gracious Heavenly Father, With childish reverence, my young lips did say Still to be wise, and good, and follow thee !" So prayed I for my father and my mother, They perished, the blithe days of boyhood perished, The landlord's daughter filled their cups, Around the rustic board; Then sat they all so calm and still, And spake not one rude word. But when the maid departed, And cried, all hot and flushed with wine, 66 “The greatest kingdom upon earth “Ha!” cried a Saxon, laughing, And dashed his beard with wine; "I had rather live in Lapland, Than that Swabian land of thine! "The goodliest land on all this earth, It is the Saxon land! There have I as many maidens As fingers on this hand!" "Hold your tongues, both Swabian and Saxon!" A bold Bohemian cries; "If there's a heaven upon this earth, In Bohemia it lies! "There the tailor blows the flute, And then the landlord's daughter |