The maid, while her eyes tears of agony pour'd,
Beheld the Erl-King and his daughter draw near:
A charger of silver each placed on the board,

While the fiend of the forests thus greeted her ear.

"With the heart of a warrior, Cloud Queen, for thy food, "The head of a child on thy table we place:

" She spell-struck the knight as he stray'd through the wood; "I strangled the child in his father's embrace."

The roof now divided.—By fogs half conceal'd,
Suck'd from marshes, infecting the air as he came,

And blasting the verdure of forest and field,
On a dragon descended the Giant of Flame.

Fire seem'd from his eyes and his nostrils to pour;
His breath was a volume of sulphurous smoke;
He brandish'd a sabre still dropping with

gore,

And his voice shook the palace when silence he broke.

-"Feast, Queen of the Clouds! the repast do not scorn; "Feast, Queen of the Clouds! I perceive thou hast food! "To-morrow I feast in my turn, for at morn

"Shall I feed on thy flesh, shall I drink of thy blood!

"Lo! I bring for a present this magical brand,
"The bowels of Christians have dyed it with red;
"This once flamed in Albert the renegade's hand,

And is destined to-morrow to strike off thy head.".

Then paler than marble Romilda she grew,

While tears of regret blamed her folly and pride.
"Oh! tell me, Cloud-King, if the giant said true,
"And wilt thou not save from his sabre thy bride?".

—“ 'Tis in vain, my fair lady, those hands that you wring, "The bond is completed, the dye it is cast;

"For she who at night weds an element-king,

"Next morning must serve for his brother's repast."

"Yet save me, Cloud-King! by that love

you profess'd "Bear me back to the place whence you tore me away."-"Fair lady! yon fiends, should I grant your request,

"Instead of to-morrow, would eat you to day."

-"Yet mark me, Cloud-King! spread in vain is

your snare,

"For bond must be void, and escap'd is your prey,

my

"The two first commands which I give you, howe'er

"The task should be wondrous, unless

you obey."—

"Well say'st thou, Romilda; thy will, then, impart, "But hope not to vanquish the King of the Storm, "Or baffle his skill by invention or art;

"Thou can'st not command what I cannot perform?"—

Then clasping her hands, to the Virgin she pray'd,
While in curses the wicked ones vented their rage.
"Now show me the truest of lovers!"—she said,
And lo! by her side stood the lovely young Page.

His mind was all wonder, her heart all alarms; She sank on his breast as he sank at her knee. "The truest of lovers I fold in my arms,

"Than the truest, now show me a truer !"—said she.

Then loud yell'd the dæmons! the cloud-fashion'd halls
Dissolved, thunder bellow'd, and heavy rains beat;

Again stood the Fair midst her own castle walls,
And still knelt the lovely young page at her feet.

And soon for her own, and for Rosenhall's lord,
Did Romilda the truest of lovers declare,

Nor e'er on his bosom one sigh could afford,

That for him she had quitted the Monarch of Air.

Full long yonder chapel has shelter'd their urns,

Long ceased has the tear on their ashes to fall;

Yet still, when October the twentieth returns,

Roars the fiend round these turrets, and shakes Rosenhall.

Oh! Pilgrim, thy fears let these annals remove,
For day to the skies will tranquillity bring;

This storm but declares that resentment and love

Still gnaw the proud heart of the cruel Cloud-King. '

*

* Lest my readers should mistake the drift of the foregoing tale, and suppose its moral to rest upon the danger in which Romilda was involved by her insolence and presumption, I think it necessary to explain, that my object in writing this story, was to shew young ladies that it might possibly, now and then, be of use to understand a little grammar; and it must be clear to every one, that my heroine would infallibly have been devoured by the dæmons, if she had not luckily understood the difference between the comparative and superlative degrees.

No. XIV.

THE FISHERMAN.

GERMAN. ·- M. G. LEWIS.

From the German of Goethe.

THE water rush'd, the water swell'd,

A fisherman sat nigh;

Calm was his heart, and he beheld
His line with watchful eye :

While thus he sits with tranquil look,
In twain the water flows;

Then, crown'd with reeds, from out the brook,
A lovely woman rose.

To him she sung, to him she said,

66

Why tempt'st thou from the flood,

By cruel arts of man betray'd,

"Fair youth, my scaly brood?