But though so rudely greeted,
No Jomsborg man retreated.
The fiend, so fierce and savage,
To work us further ravage,
Shot lightning from each finger,
Which sped, and did not linger;
Then sank our brave in numbers
To cold, eternal slumbers;
There lay the good and gallant,
Unmatch'd for warlike talent.
Our captain this perceiving,
The signal made for leaving,
And with his ship departed,
Down-cast and broken-hearted;
We spread our sails to follow,--
And soon the breezes hollow,
From shores we came to harry,
Our luckless remnant carry.
THE KING AND CROWN.
From the Suabian.
The King who well crown'd does govern the land,
And whose fair crown well fill'd does stand--
That King adorns his crown, I trow;
And he who is thus by his crown adorn'd,
And for whose sake never that crown is scorn'd,
Does bear a well-fill'd crown on his brow.
ODE.
To a Mountain Torrent.
From the German of Stolberg.
O stripling immortal thou forth dost career
From thy deep rocky chasm; beheld has no eye
The mighty one's cradle, and heard has no ear
At his under-ground spring-head his infant-like cry.
How lovely art thou in the foam of thy brow,
And yet the warm blood in my bosom grows chill;
For awful art thou and terrific, I vow,
In the roar of the echoing forest and hill.
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