PEGNITZ.

From sheer ennui hypochondria threatens to seize me; And I continue to flow simply because 't is my wont.

THE RIVERS OF ***

Truly we fare pretty well in the lands of these generous princes,

For their yoke is quite mild, and their burdens are

light.

SALZACH.

I rush from Juvavia's mountains to salt the bishop's

domain,

And afterward turn to Bavaria where the people are wanting in salt.

THE ANONYMOUS RIVER.

To furnish food during Lent for the bishop's Christian table,

My Maker caused me to flow across his famished domain.

LES FLEUVES INDISCRETS.

Now, gossiping rivers, be silent, and show ye becoming discretion;

Even Diderot's sweetheart was prudent and less fond

of talk.

Friedrich von Schiller. Tr. C. J. Hempel.

Swabia.

I

THE SWABIAN MAIDEN.

AM a Swabian maiden,

My face is brown and tanned;

'Tis true I am not gifted Like maids in Saxon land.

To read in books they're able,
They Gleim and Wieland praise;
Sweet are as virgin honey
Their manners and their ways.

The raillery they sting with
Is like a pointed lance;
The wit that they discourse with
Is taken from romance.

"T is true that I possess not
These cunning arts of life;
Yet for an honest Swabian
Were I an honest wife.

For trifling, writing, reading
All turn a maiden's head:
The man for me elected

Will read for me instead.

Fair youth, art thou from Swabia?
Dost love thy fatherland?

So come then, thou shalt have me;

Behold! here is my hand!

Christian Friedrich Daniel Schubart. Tr. A. Baskerville.

Walchen See.

SONNET

WRITTEN IN A PASS OF BAVARIA BETWEEN THE WALCHEN

A

AND THE WALDEN SEE.

"His voice was as the sound of many waters."

SOUND of many waters! now I know

To what was likened the large utterance sent By Him who mid the golden lampads went : Innumerable streams, above, below,

Some seen, some heard alone, with headlong flow
Come rushing; some with smooth and sheer descent,
Some dashed to foam and whiteness, but all blent
Into one mighty music. As I go,

The tumult of a boundless gladness fills
My bosom, and my spirit leaps and sings;
Sounds and sights are there of the ancient hills,
The eagle's cry, or when the mountain flings
Mists from its brow, but none of all these things
Like the one voice of multitudinous rills.

Richard Chenevix Trench.

Wetzlar.

SORROWS OF WERTHER.

WERTHE

WERTHER had a love for Charlotte Such as words could never utter; Would you know how first he met her? She was cutting bread and butter.

Charlotte was a married lady,

And a moral man was Werther, And for all the wealth of Indies Would do nothing for to hurt her.

So he sighed and pined and ogled,
And his passion boiled and bubbled,
Till he blew his silly brains out,
And no more was by it troubled.

Charlotte, having seen his body
Borne before her on a shutter,
Like a well-conducted person,
Went on cutting bread and butter.

William Makepeace Thackeray.

MISCELLANEOUS.

THE SONG OF LOUIS.

THEN

HEN took he shield and spear,
And quickly forward rode;

Willing to wreak revenge
Against his gathering foes.