"Cockt up shall be

my

bonnet blue,

"Comb'd down my yellow hair;

"And by these signs I give to thee,

66

66

"Thou'lt know, that I am there.

They'll turn me into a snake in your arms,

"But hold me fast the rather;

Grasp me well, and fear me not,

"That snake is your child's father.

"They'll turn me into a bear so grim, "And into a tyger wild ;

"But hold me fast, and fear me not,

"And last, they'll turn me, in your arms,

"To a bar of burning steel;

"Then throw me into the stream with speed,

"And thou no hurt shalt feel.

"But there, in place of the burning bar,
"A naked knight thou'lt see,
“Then cover me with thy cloak of green,

"And I'll thy true-love be."

Eerie, eerie, was the way,

The night was dark and dread, When Janet in her mantle green, Alone to Miles-cross sped.

About the dead of night she heard

The fairy-bridles ring; The lady was as glad at that,

As any earthly thing.

First she let the black pass by,

And next she let the brown,

But quickly ran to the milk-white steed, And drew its rider down.

So well did she her task perform,

That she her love did win,

And blythe as birds in spring, she cast Her mantle round Tam Lin.

Out then spake the Queen o' Fairies,

Out of a bush o' broom,

"She that has gotten young Tam Lin,

"Has gotten a stately groom.'

Out then spake the Queen o' Fairies,
And an angry queen was she;

"Shame betide her ill-fared face,
she see;

"And an ill death may

"For she's ta'en away the bonniest knight,

"In all my companye!

"But had I guest, Tam Lin," she said,

"What to-night is come to pass, "I had scratch'd out thy two blue een, "And put in two een of glass!".

No. LIX.

LENOR A.

GERMAN.

This version of Bürger's well known ballad, was published in the Monthly Magazine, and I consider it as a master-piece of translation; indeed as far as my opinion goes, the English ballad is, in point of merit, far superior, both in spirit and harmony, to the German, which is written in a stanza, producing an effect very unsatisfactory to the ear; that my Readers may judge of this for themselves, I shall here add a stanza similar to that in which Bürger's "Lenora" is written: I rather imagine, that the effect made by it upon others, is the same with that which it produced upon me, since among the numerous translators of this ballad, not one has adopted the metre of the original.

[Lenora wakes at dawn of day,

Tears down her fair cheeks trickle:

-"Oh! why, my William, dost thou stay,
And art thou dead or fickle?"—

With Fred'rick's host young William went,
But since the fight of Prague he sent

No word to tell his speeding,

And soothe her bosom bleeding.]

I cannot but think, that the above metre will be universally disapproved of, when compared with that adopted in the following ballad.

Ar break of day, with frightful dreams

Lenora struggled sore:

'My William, art thou slaine," say'd she,

"Or dost thou love no more?"

He went abroade with Richard's host,
The Paynim foes to quell;

But he no word to her had writt,

An he were sick or well.

With sowne of trump and beat of drum,`

His fellow soldyers come;

Their helmes bydeckt with oaken boughs,
They seeke their long'd-for home.

"Thank God!" their wives and children saide;

"Welcome!"-the brides did say:

But greete or kiss Lenora gave

To none upon that daye.

She askte of all the passing traine,
For him she wisht to see:

But none of all the passing traine

Could tell if lived he.