THE Author had resolved to omit the following version of a well-known Poem, in any collection which he might make of his poetical trifles. But the publishers having pleaded for its admission, the Author has consented, though not unaware of the disadvantage at which this youthful essay (for it was written in 1795) must appear with those which have been executed by much more able hands, in particular that of Mr. Taylor of Norwich, and that of Mr. Spencer.

The following Translation was written long before the Author saw any other, and originated in the following circumstances:-A lady of high rank in the literary world read this romantic tale, as translated by Mr. Taylor, in the house of the celebrated Professor Dugald Stewart of Edinburgh. The Author was not present, nor indeed in Edinburgh at the time; but a gentleman who had the pleasure of hearing the ballad, afterwards told him the story, and repeated the remarkable chorus

"Tramp! tramp! across the land they speede,
Splash! splash! across the sea:
Hurrah! The dead can ride apace!
Dost fear to ride with me?

In attempting a translation then intended only to circulate among friends, the present Author did not hesitate to make use of this impressive stanza; for which freedom he has since obtained the forgiveness of the ingenious gentleman to whom it properly belongs.

FROM heavy dreams fair Helen rose,
And eyed the dawning red:
"Alas, my love, thou tarriest long!
O art thou false or dead?"—

With gallant Fred'rick's princely power
He sought the bold Crusade;
But not a word from Judah's wars
Told Helen how he sped.

With Paynim and with Saracen
At length a truce was made,
And ev'ry knight return'd to dry
The tears his love had shed.

Our gallant host was homeward bound
With many a song of joy;

Green waved the laurel in each plume, The badge of victory.

And old and young, and sire and son,
To meet them crowd the way,
With shouts, and mirth, and melody,
The debt of love to pay.

Full many a maid her true-love met,
And sobb'd in his embrace,
And flutt'ring joy in tears and smiles
Array'd full many a face.

Nor joy nor smile for Helen sad:

She sought the host in vain ; For none could tell her William's fate, If faithless, or if slain.

The martial band is past and gone;
She rends her raven hair,
And in distraction's bitter mood
She weeps with wild despair.

"O rise, my child," her mother said,
"Nor sorrow thus in vain ;
A perjured lover's fleeting heart
No tears recall again.

"O mother, what is gone, is gone,
What's lost for ever lorn:
Death, death alone can comfort me;
O had I ne'er been born!

"O break, my heart, O break at once!
Drink my life-blood, Despair!
No joy remains on earth for me,
For me in heaven no share."-

"O enter not in judgment, Lord!" The pious mother prays; "Impute not guilt to thy frail child! She knows not what she says.

"O say thy pater noster, child!
O turn to God and grace!
His will, that turn'd thy bliss to bale,
Can change thy bale to bliss."—

"O mother, mother, what is bliss? O mother, what is bale?

My William's love was heaven on earth, Without it earth is hell.

"Why should I pray to ruthless Heaven, Since my loved William's slain ?

I only pray'd for William's sake,
And all my prayers were vain."—

The clank of echoing steel was heard
As off the rider bounded;

And slowly on the winding stair
A heavy footstep sounded.

And hark! and hark! a knock-Tap! tap!
A rustling stifled noise ;--

Door-latch and tinkling staples ring;-
At length a whispering voice.

"Awake, awake, arise, my love!
How, Helen, dost thou fare?

Wak'st thou, or sleep'st? laugh'st thou, or weep'st?

Hast thought on me, my fair?"

"My love! my love!-so late by night!--
I waked, I wept for thee:

Much have I borne since dawn of morn;
Where, William, couldst thou be?"-

"We saddle late-from Hungary
I rode since darkness fell;
And to its bourne we both return
Before the matin bell."-

"O rest this night within my arms,

And warm thee in their fold!

Chill howls through hawthorn bush the wind:

My love is deadly cold."

"Let the wind howl through hawthorn bush!

This night we must away;

The steed is wight, the spur is bright;
I cannot stay till day.

"Busk, busk, and boune! Thou mount'st behind

Upon my black barb steed:

O'er stock and stile, a hundred miles,
We haste to bridal bed."-

"To-night-to-night a hundred miles!-
O dearest William, stay!

The bell strikes twelve-dark, dismal hour! O wait, my love, till day!

Ceased clang and song; down sunk the bier;
The shrouded corpse arose:
And, hurry! hurry! all the train
The thundering steed pursues.

And, forward! forward! on they go;
High snorts the straining steed;
Thick pants the rider's labouring breath,
As headlong on they speed.

"O William, why this savage haste?
And where thy bridal bed?”—--
"Tis distant far, low, damp, and chill,
And narrow, trustless maid."—

"No room for me?"-"Enough for both;-
Speed, speed, my barb, thy course!"-
O'er thundering bridge, through boiling

surge,

He drove the furious horse.

Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode,
Splash! splash! along the sea;

The scourge is wight, the spur is bright,
The flashing pebbles flee.

Flod past on right and left how fast
Each forest, grove, and bower!

On right and left fled past how fast
Each city, town, and tower!

"Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines

clear,

Dost fear to ride with me?Hurrah! hurrah! the dead can ride!""O William, let them be!-

"See there, see there! What yonder swings And creaks 'mid whistling rain?"-"Gibbet and steel, th' accursed wheel; A murderer in his chain.-

"Hollo! thou felon, follow here:
To bridal bed we ride;

And thou shalt prance a fetter dance
Before me and my bride."-

And, hurry! hurry! clash, clash, clash!
The wasted form descends;

And fleet as wind through hazel bush The wild carcer attends.

Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode,
Splash! splash! along the sea;
The scourge is red, the spur drops blood,
The flashing pebbles flee.

How fled what moonshine faintly show'd!
How fled what darkness hid!
How fled the earth beneath their feet,
The heaven above their head!

"Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear,

And well the dead can ride: Does faithful Helen fear for them?""O leave in peace the dead!"—

"Barb! Barb! methinks I hear the cock; The sand will soon be run:

Barb! Barb! I smell the morning air;
The race is wellnigh done."—

Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode,
Splash! splash! along the sea;
The scourge is red, the spur drops blood,
The flashing pebbles flee.

"Hurrah! hurrah! well ride the dead;
The bride, the bride is come;
And soon we reach the bridal bed,
For, Helen, here's my home."-

Reluctant on its rusty hinge
Revolved an iron door,

And by the pale moon's setting beam
Were seen a church and tower.

With many a shriek and cry whiz round
The birds of midnight, scared;
And rustling like autumnal leaves
Unhallow'd ghosts were heard.

O'er many a tomb and tombstone pale
He spurr'd the fiery horse,
Till sudden at an open grave

He check'd the wondrous course.

The falling gauntlet quits the rein,
Down drops the casque of steel,
The cuirass leaves his shrinking side,
The spur his gory heel.

The eyes desert the naked skull,
The mould'ring flesh the bone,
Till Helen's lily arms entwine
A ghastly skeleton.

The furious barb snorts fire and foam,
And, with a fearful bound,
Dissolves at once in empty air,

And leaves her on the ground.

Half scen by fits, by fits half heard,
Pale spectres flit along,

Wheel round the maid in dismal dance,
And howl the funeral song;

"E'en when the heart's with anguish cleft,
Revere the doom of Heaven.
Her soul is from her body reft;
Her spirit be forgiven !"

THIS ballad was written at the request of Mr. LEWIS, to be inserted in his "Tales of Wonder."I It is the third in a series of four ballads, on the subject of Elementary Spirits. The story is, however, partly historical; for it is recorded, that, during the struggles of the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem, a Knight-Templar, called Saint-Alban, deserted to the Saracens, and defeated the Christians in many combats, till he was finally routed and slain, in a conflict with King Baldwin, under the walls of Jerusalem.

"Now palmer, grey palmer, O tell unto me, What news bring you home from the Holy Countrie?

And how goes the warfare by Galilee's strand? And how fare our nobles, the flower of the land?"-

"O well goes the warfare by Galilee's wave, For Gilead, and Nablous, and Ramah we have;

And well fare our nobles by Mount Lebanon, For the Heathen have lost, and the Christians have won."

A fair chain of gold 'mid her ringlets there hung: O'er the palmer's grey locks the fair chain has

she flung:

**O palmer, grey palmer, this chain be thy fee, For the news thou hast brought from the Holy Countrie.

"And, palmer, good palmer, by Galilee's wave, O saw ye Count Albert, the gentle and brave? When the Crescent went back, and the Red

cross rush'd on,

O saw ye him foremost on Mount Lebanon?".

Published in 1801.

Eastern Tale.

"O lady, fair lady, the tree green it grows; O lady, fair lady, the stream pure it flows; Your castle stands strong, and your hopes soar on high; But, lady, fair lady, all blossoms to die.

It

The green boughs they wither, the thunderbolt falls,

leaves of your castle but levin-scorch'd walls;

The pure stream runs muddy; the gay hope is gone;

Count Albert is prisoner on Mount Lebanon." O she's ta'en a horse, should be fleet at her speed;

And she's ta'en a sword, should be sharp at her need;

And she has ta'en shipping for Palestine's land,

To ransom Count Albert from Soldanrie's hand.

Small thought had Count Albert on fair

Rosalie,

Small thought on his faith, or his knighthood,

had he;

A heathenish damsel his light heart had won, The Soldan's fair daughter of Mount Lebanon.

"O Christian, brave Christian, my love wouldst

thou be,

He has thrown by his helmet, and crosshandled sword,

Renouncing his knighthood, denying his Lord; He has ta'en the green caftan, and turban

put on,

For the love of the maiden of fair Lebanon.

And in the dread cavern, deep deep under ground,

Unmeasured in height, undistinguish'd in form,

His breath it was lightning, his voice it was

storm;

I ween the stout heart of Count Albert was tame,

When he saw in his terrora the Monarch of Flame.

He has watch'd until daybreak, but sight saw

Far off was their murmur, it came not more nigh,

The flame burn'd unmoved, and nought else did he spy.

Loud murmur'd the priests, and amazed was the King,

through smoke,

Count Albert has arm'd him the Paynim among,

Though his heart it was false, yet his arm it was strong;

And the Red-cross wax'd faint, and the Crescent came on,

they sing;

Lebanon.