And as her farewell the maiden took,

The bars of iron they quivered and shook ;
And when near the den he the youth espied,

Great terror seized on the trembling bride.

He takes his stand by the prison door,

With sweeping tail and with hideous roar ;

She, praying, entreating, and threat'ning, demands

To go; unmoved, he angrily stands.

Without, confusion and shouts arise;

'Bring weapons, hasten!' the bridegroom cries;

'My hand is steady, my aim is good.'

Up springs the lion in savage mood.

The hapless bride dares to approach the door,

Then he falls on her he so loved before:

The beautiful form, a horrible prey,

Lies bloody and mangled-a senseless clay.

And thus, the blood of his dearest shed,

He crouches grimly beside the dead.
He lies all lost in his sorrow and pain,
Till the bullet pierces his heart in twain.

LUDWIG UHLAND.

[1787-1862.]

THE MINSTREL'S CURSE.

THERE stood, in bygone ages, a castle old and grand, It looked o'er vale and mountain, it looked o'er sea

and land,

And sweetly-fragrant gardens lay blossoming around,

And rainbow-coloured fountains watered the turfy

ground.

There dwelt a haughty monarch, with lands and

treasures great ;

He sat, so pale and gloomy, upon his throne of state.

His ev'ry word was terror,. and death his ev'ry

thought,

And blood and dire oppression he on his people

brought.

Once came into this castle a noble minstrel pair—

The one with snow-white tresses, his son with golden hair.

The sire rode a palfrey sure, his harp behind him

slung;

Beside him wandered gaily his comrade, blithe and

young.

Then spake the aged minstrel: 'My son, I pray thee

hear,

Sing all thy sweetest ditties in tones most full and

clear;

To waken joy and sorrow unite thine ev'ry art,

To-day I fain would soften the monarch's iron heart.'

The minstrels were admitted into the marble hall,

There sat the haughty monarch, his queen and

courtiers all—

The king in fearful splendour, like bloody northern

light;

The queen so sweet and gentle, like moonbeams through the night.

The aged minstrel touched his harp, its tones were wondrous clear,

And fuller still and fuller they struck the list'ning ear.

The youth's sweet voice melodiously rang forth in

heavenly strain,

Anon the old man's deeper tones broke on the air

again.