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Shall we, too, bend the stubborn head,
In Freedom's temple born,
Or brook a victor's scorn ?
Come pouring as a flood,
And set that night in blood.
Or plunder's bloody gain;
Nor shall their edge be vain.
Shall fan the tricolor,
Pollute our happy shore,-
Adieu each tender tie!
To conquer, or to die.
High sounds our bugle call;
March forward, one and all!
Translations and Imitations of German Ballads.
[This and the following ballad were first published anonymously in a small book, entitled, “The Chase and William and Helen;" two ballads, from the German of Gottfried Augustus Bürger. Edinburgh: Printed by Mundell and Son, Bank-close, for Manners and Miller, Parliament-square; and sold by T. Carlell, jun., and W. Davies, in the Strand, London. 1796. 4to. It goes generally by the title, “The Wild Huntsman.”]
This is a translation, or rather an imitation, of the “ Wilde Jäger” of the German poet Bürger. The tradition upon which is founded bears, that formerly a Wildgrave, or keeper of a royal forest, named Falkenburg, was so much addicted to the pleasures of the chase, and otherwise so extremely profligate and cruel, that he not only followed this unhallowed amusement on the Sabbath, and other days consecrated to religious duty, but accompanied it with the most unheard-of oppression upon the poor peasants who were under his vassalage. When this second Nimrod died, the people adopted a superstition, founded probably on the many various uncouth sounds heard in the depth of a German forest, during the silence of the night. They conceived they still heard the cry of the Wildgrave's hounds; and the wellknown cheer of the deceased hunter, the sounds of his horse's feet, and the rustling of the branches before the game, the pack, and the sportsmen, are also distinctly discriminated; but the phantoms are rarely, if ever, visible. Once, as a benighted Chasseur heard this infernal chase pass by him, at the sound of the halloo, with which the Spectre Huntsman cheered his hounds, he could not refrain from crying, “ Glück zu Falkenburg !" (Good sport to ye, Falkenburg!) “Dost thou wish me good sport?" answered a hoarse voice; "thou shalt share the game;" and there was thrown at him what seemed to be a huge piece of foul carrion. The daring Chasseur lost two of his best horses soon after, and never perfectly recovered the personal effects of this ghostly greeting. This tale, though told with some variations, is universally believed all over Germany.
The French had a similar tradition concerning an aërial hunter, who infested the forest of Fountainebleau.
To horse, to horse! halloo, halloo !
Dash through the bush, the brier, the brake;
Had painted yonder spire with gold,
Halloo, halloo ! and, hark again !
Well may I guess, but dare not tell,
His smile was like the morn of May;
Cried, “Welcome, welcome, noble lord !
Yon bell yet summons to the fane;
To-morrow thou mayst mourn in vain."-
The Sable Hunter hoarse replies;
And, launching forward with a bound,
With pious fools go chant and pray:
O’er moss and moor, o'er holt and hill;
A stag more white than mountain snow;
He gasps the thundering hoofs below;-
A field with autumn's blessings crowned;
Spare the poor's pittance," was his cry,
“ No! pions fool, I scorn thy lore;
Let him who ne'er the chase durst prove
And leave me to the sport I love.
O'er moss and moor, o'er holt and hill,
The stranger horsemen followed still." e First edition:
Spare the hard pittance of the poor."
“Earned by the sweat these brows have poured, In scorching hour of fierce July.”
The left still cheering to the prey;
But furious holds the onward way.
Away, thou hound! so basely born,
Or dread the scourge's echoing blow !”
Clears the poor labourer's humble pale;
Like dark December's stormy gale.
And man, and horse, and hound, and horn,
Destructive sweep the field along;
Scours moss, and moor, and holt, and hill;
He seeks the shelter of the crowd ;
His track the steady blood-hounds trace;
“O spare, thou noble Baron, spare
d First edition:
“In scorching July's sultry hour." . First edition:
“ O'er moss and moor, and holt and hill,
The unwearied Earl pursues the chase." First edition :“ The anxious herdsman lowly falls."