O　the　force　of　Runic　verses；　O　the　mighty　strength　of　song　Cannot　baffle　all　the　curses　Which　to　mortal　state　belong。
  Slaughter'd　chiefs；　that　buried　under　Heaps　of　marble；　long　have　lain；　Song　can　rend　your　tomb　asunder；　Give　ye　life　and　strength　again。
  When　around　his　dying　capture；　Fierce；　the　serpent　draws　his　fold；　Song　can　make　him；　wild　with　rapture；　Straight　uncoil；　and　bite　the　mould。
  When　from　keep　and　battled　tower；　Flames　to　heaven　upward　strain；　Song　has　o'er　them　greater　power；　Than　the　vapours　dropping　rain。
  It　can　quench　the　conflagration　Striding　o'er　the　works　of　art；　But　nor　song　nor　incantation　Can　appease　love's　cruel　smart。
  O　the　force　of　Runic　verses；　O　the　mighty　strength　of　song　Cannot　baffle　all　the　curses　Which　to　mortal　state　belong。
  THOUGHTS　ON　DEATH。　FROM　THE　SWEDISH　OF　C。　LOHMAN。
  Perhaps　't　is　folly；　but　still　I　feel　My　heart…strings　quiver；　my　senses　reel；　Thinking　how　like　a　fast　stream　we　range　Nearer　and　nearer　to　yon　dread　change；　When　soul　and　spirit　filter　away；　And　leave　nothing　better　than　senseless　clay。
  Yield；　beauty；　yield；　for　the　grave　does　gape；　And　horribly　alter'd　reflects　thy　shape；　…　For　ah！　think　not　those　childish　charms　Will　rest　unrifled　in　its　cold　arms；　And　think　not　there；　that　the　rose　of　love　Will　bloom　on　thy　features　as　here　above。
  Let　him　who　roams　at　vanity　fair；　In　robes　that　rival　the　tulip's　glare；　Think　on　the　chaplet　of　leaves　which　round　His　fading　forehead　will　soon　be　bound；　Think　on　each　dirge　the　priests　will　say　When　his　cold　corse　is　borne　away。
  Let　him　who　seeketh　for　wealth　uncheck'd　By　fear　of　labourlet　him　reflect；　The　gold　he　wins　will　brightly　shine；　When　he　has　perish'd　with　all　his　line。　Though　man　may　rave　and　vainly　boast；　We　are　but　ashes　when　at　the　most。
  BIRDS　OF　PASSAGE。　FROM　THE　SWEDISH。
  So　hot　shines　the　sun　upon　Nile's　yellow　stream；　That　the　palm…trees　can　save　us　no　more　from　his　beam；　Now　comes　the　desire　for　home；　in　full　force；　And　Northward　our　phalanx　bends　swiftly　its　course。
  Now　dim　underneath　us；　through　distance　we　view　The　green　grassy　earth；　and　the　ocean's　deep　blue；　There　tempests　and　frequent　disasters　arise；　Whilst　free　and　untroubled　we　wend　through　the　skies。
  Lo；　high　among　mountains　a　meadow　lies　spread；　And　there　we　alight；　and　get　ready　our　bed；　There　hatch　we　our　eggs；　and　beneath　the　chill　pole　We　wait　while　the　summer　months　over　us　roll。
  No　hunter；　desirous　to　make　us　his　prey；　Invades　our　lone　valley　by　night　or　by　day；　But　green…mantled　fairies　their　merry　routs　hold；　And　fearless　the　pigmy　｛34｝　there　hammers　its　gold。
  But　when　pallid　winter；　again　on　the　rocks　Shakes　down　in　a　shower　the　snow　from　his　locks；　Then　comes　the　desire　for　heat；　in　full　force；　And　Southward　our　phalanx　bends　swiftly　its　course。
  To　the　verdant　Savannah；　and　palm…shaded　plain；　Where　the　Nile　rolls　his　water；　we　hurry　again；　There　rest　we　till　summer's　sun；　waxing　too　hot；　Makes　us　wish　for　our　native；　our　hill…girded　spot。
  THE　BROKEN　HARP。
  O　thou；　who；　'mid　the　forest　trees；　With　thy　harmonious　trembling　strain；　Could'st　change　at　once　to　soothing　ease；　My　love…sick　bosom's　cruel　pain：　Thou　droop'st　in　dreary　silence　now；　With　shiver'd　frame；　and　broken　string；　While　here；　unhelp'd；　beneath　the　bough　I　sit；　and　feebly　strive　to　sing。
  The　moon　no　more　illumes　the　ground；　In　night　and　vapour　dies　my　lay；　For　with　thy　sweet　and　melting　sound　Fled；　all　at　once；　her　silver　ray：　O　soon；　O　soon；　shall　this　sad　heart；　Which　beats　so　low；　and　bleeds　so　free；　O'ercome　by　its　fell　load　of　smart；　Be　broke；　O　ruin'd　harp；　like　thee！
  SCENES。
  Observe　ye　not　yon　high　cliff's　brow；　Up　which　a　wanderer　clambers　slow；　'T　is　by　a　hoary　ruin　crown'd；　Which　rocks　when　shrill　winds　whistle　round；　That　is　an　ancient　knightly　hold；　…　Alas！　it　droops；　deserted；　cold；　And　sad　and　cheerless　seems　to　gaze；　Back；　back；　to　yon　heroic　days；　When　youthful　Kemps；　｛35｝　completely　arm'd；　And　lovely　maids　around　it　swarm'd。
  You；　in　the　tower；　a　hole　may　see；　A　window　there　has　ceas'd　to　be。　From　that　once　lean'd　a　damsel　bright；　In　evening's　red　and　fading　light；　And　star'd　intently　down　the　way；　Up　which　should　come　her　lover　gay：　But；　time　it　flies　on　rapid　wing　…　Far　off　a　church　is　towering；　Within　it　stand　two　marble　stones；　That　rest　above　the　lovers'　bones。　But　see；　the　wanderer；　with　pain；　Has　reach'd　the　pile　he　wish'd　to　gain；　Whilst　Sol；　behind　the　ruin'd　walls；　Down　into　sacred　nature　falls。
  See；　there；　two　hostile　nobles　fight；　With　tiger…rage　and　giant…might。　There's　seen　no　smoke；　there's　heard　no　shot；　For　guns　and　powder　yet　were　not。　'T　was　custom　then；　when　foemen　warr'd；　To　win　or　lose　with　spear　and　sword：　A　wild　heroic　song　they　yell；　And　each　the　other　seeks　to　fell。　Oft；　oft；　her　ownself　to　destroy；　Her　own　hand　nature　does　employ。　There　casts　the　hill　up　fire…flakes；　And　Earth's　gigantic　body　quakes：　There；　lightnings　through　the　high　blue　flash；　And　ocean's　billows　wildly　dash：　There；　men　'gainst　men　their　muscles　strain；　And　deal　out　death；　and　wounds；　and　pain。　O　Nature！　to　thyself　show　less　Of　hate；　and　more　of　tenderness。
  How　dusky　is　the　air　around；　We　are　no　more　above　the　ground；　But；　down　we　wend　within　the　hill；　Whose　springs　our　ears　with　hissings　fill。　See；　there；　how　rich　the　ruddy　gold　Winds　snakeways；　'midst　the　clammy　mould　And　hard　green　stone。　　By　torches'　ray；　The　harvest　there　men　mow　away。　But；　see　ye　not　yon　gath'ring　cloud；　Which　'gainst　them　cometh　paley　proud；　That　holds　the　spirit　of　the　hill；　Who　brings　death　in　its　hand　so　chill：　If　down　they　do　not　quickly　fall；　Most　certainly　't　will　slay　them　all；　For　sorely　wrathful　is　its　mood；　Because　they　break　its　solitude：　Because　its　treasure　off　they　bear；　And　fling　light　o'er　its　gloomy　lair。　'T　is　white；　and　Kobbold　is　the　name　Which　it　from　oldest　days　does　claim。
  Now；　back　at　once　into　time　we　go；　For　many　a　hundred　years；　I　trow。　A　gothic　chamber　salutes　your　sight：　A　taper　gleams　feebly　through　the　night；　A　ghostly　man　by　the　board　you　see；　With　his　hand　to　his　temples　muses　he：　Parchments；　with　age　discolour'd　and　dun；　Ancient　shields　all　written　upon；　Tree…bark；　bearing　ciphers　half　defac'd；　Stones　with　Runes　and　characters　grac'd；　Things　of　more　worth　than　ye　are　aware；　On　the　mighty　table　are　pil'd　up　there。　He　gazes　now　in　exstatic　trance　Through　the　casement；　out　into　nature's　expanse。　Whene'er　we　sit　at　the　lone　midnight；　And　stare　out　into　the　dubious　light；　Whilst　the　pallid　moon　is　peering　o'er　Ruin'd　cloister　and　crumbling　tower；　Feelings　so　wondrous　strange　come　o'er　us；　The　past；　and　the　future；　arise　before　us；　The　present　fadeth；　unmark'd；　away　In　the　garb　of　insignificancy。　He　gazes　up　into　nature's　height；　The　noble　man　with　his　eye　so　bright；　He　gazes　up　to　the　starry　skies；　Whither；　sooner　or　later；　we　hope　to　rise；　And　now　he　takes　in　haste　the　pen；　And　the　spirit　of　Oldom　flows　from　it　amain；　The　scatter'd　Goth…songs　he　changes　unto　An　Epic　which　maketh　each　bosom　to　glow。　Thanks　to　the　old　Monk；　toiling　thus　…　They　call　him　Saxo　Grammaticus。
  An　open　field　before　you　lies；　A　wind…burst　o'er　its　bosom　sighs；　Now　all　is　still；　all　seems　asleep；　'Midst　of　the　field　there　stands　a　heap；　Upon　the　heap　stand　Runic　stones；　Thereunder　rest　gigantic　bones。　From　Arild's　time；　that　heap　stands　there；　But　now　't　is　till'd　with　utmost　care；　In　order　that　its　owner　may　Thereoff　reap　golden　corn　one　day。　Oft　has　he　tried；　the　niggard　soul；　The　mighty　stones　away　to　roll；　As　useless　burdens　of　his　ground；　But　they　for　that　too　big　were　found。　See；　see！　the　moon　through　cloud　and　rack　Looks　down　upon　the　letters　black：　And　when　the　ghost　its　form　uprears　He　shines　upon　its　bursting　tears　…　For　oh！　the　moon's　an　ancient　man；　Describe　him；　mortal　tongue　ne'er　can；　He　shines　alike；　serene　and　bright；　At　midmost　hour　of　witching　night；　Upon　the　spot　of　love　and　glee；　And　on　the　gloomy　gallows…tree。　Upon　each　Rune　behold　him　stare；　While　off　he　hastes　through　fields　of　air；　He　understands　those　signs；　I'll　gage；　Whose　meaning　lies　in　sunken　age；　And　if　he　were　in　speaking　state；　No　doubt　the　old　man　could　relate　Strange　things　that　have　on　earth　occurr'd；　Of　which　fame　ne'er　has　said　a　word；　But　since　with　look；　with　look　alone；　He　cannot　those　events　make　known；　He　waketh　from　his　height　sublime　Mere　longing　for　the　dark　gone　time。
  THE　SUICIDE'S　GRAVE。　FROM　THE　GERMAN。
  This　piece　is　not　translated　for　the　sentiments　which　it　contains；　　but　for　its　poetical　beauties。　　Although　the　path　of　human　life　is　　rough　and　thorny；　the　mind　may　always　receive　consolation　by　looking　　forward　to　the　world　to　come。　　The　mind　which　rejects　a　future　state　　has　to　thank　itself　for　its　utter　misery　and　hopelessness。
  The　evening　shadows　fall　upon　the　grave　On　which　I　sit；　it　is　no　common　heap；　…　Below　its　turf　are　laid　the　bones　of　one；　Who；　sick　of　life　and　misery；　did　quench　The　vital　spark　which　in　his　bosom　burn'd。
  The　shadows　deepen；　and　the　ruddy　tinge　Which　lately　flooded　all　the　western　sky　Has　now　diminish'd　to　a　single　streak；　And　here　I　sit；　alone；　and　listen　to　The　noise　of　forests；　and　the　hum　of　groves。
  This　is　the　time　to　think　of　nature's　Go