Shall we, too, bend the stubborn head, No! though destruction o'er the land The sun, that sees our falling day, For gold let Gallia's legions fight, If ever breath of British gale Or footstep of invader rude, With rapine foul, and red with blood, Then farewell home! and farewell friends! Where charging squadrons furious ride, To horse! to horse! the sabres gleam; March forward, one and all! Translations and Imitations of German Ballads. THE CHASE. [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. Cadell, 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 it 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. I THE Wildgrave winds his bugle horn, II The eager pack, from couples freed, Dash through the bush, the brier, the brake; III The beams of God's own hallowed day Loud, long, and deep, the bell had tolled : IV But still the Wildgrave onward rides; V Who was each Stranger, left and right, VI The right-hand horseman, young and fair, The left, from eye of tawny glare, Shot midnight lightning's lurid ray. VII He waved his huntsman's cap on high, VIII "Cease thy loud bugle's clanging knell," IX "To-day, the ill-omened chase forbear, To-day the Warning Spirit hear, To-morrow thou mayst mourn in vain.”— In the First Edition "Earl Walter" is the term applied throughout the ballad, instead of "the Wildgrave." X Away, and sweep the glades along!" ΧΙ The Wildgrave spurred his ardent steed, XII "Hence, if our manly sport offend! With pious fools go chant and pray :- XIII The Wildgrave spurred his courser light, Each Stranger Horseman followed still. XIV Up springs, from yonder tangled thorn, XV A heedless wretch has crossed the way; XVI See, where yon simple fences meet, A field with autumn's blessings crowned; XVII "O mercy, mercy, noble lord! Spare the poor's pittance," was his cry, In the First Edition this, and the following verse, read thus: "No! pious fool, I scorn thy lore; Let him who ne'er the chase durst prove "Fast, fast, Earl Walter onward rides, 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." — XVIII Earnest the right-hand Stranger pleads, XIX Away, thou hound! so basely born, Or dread the scourge's echoing blow!" 'Then loudly rung his bugle-horn, "Hark forward, forward, holla, ho!" XX So said, so done :-A single bound Clears the poor labourer's humble pale; Wild follows man, and horse, and hound, Like dark December's stormy gale. XXI And man, and horse, and hound, and horn, While, joying o'er the wasted corn, Fell Famine marks the maddening throng. XXII Again up-roused the timorous prey Scours moss, and moor, and holt, and hill; XXIII Too dangerous solitude appeared; Amid the flock's domestic herd His harmless head he hopes to shroud. XXIV O'er moss, and moor, and holt, and hill, O'er moss and moor, unwearied still, XXV Full lowly did the herdsman fall; 66 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, f First edition: "The anxious herdsman lowly falls." |