some trace of its passage, Though the succeeding wave washes it out from the sand.

INSCRIPTION ON THE SHANKLIN FOUNTAIN.

O TRAVELLER, stay thy weary feet;
Drink of this fountain, pure and sweet;
It flows for rich and poor the same.
Then go thy way, remembering still
The wayside well beneath the hill,

The cup of water in His name.

TRANSLATIONS.

FROM THE SPANISH.

ANCIENT SPANISH BALLADS.

In the chapter with this title in Outre-Mer, besides illustrations from Byron and Lockhart are the three following examples, contributed by Mr. Longfellow.

I.

RIO VERDE, Rio Verde!

Many a corpse is bathed in thee, Both of Moors and eke of Christians, Slain with swords most cruelly.

And thy pure and crystal waters

Dappled are with crimson gore;

For between the Moors and Christians Long has been the fight and sore.

Dukes and counts fell bleeding near thee,

Lords of high renown were slain,
Perished many a brave hidalgo
Of the noblemen of Spain.

II.

"King Alfonso the Eighth, having exhausted his treasury in war, wishes to lay a tax of five farthings upon each of the Castilian hidalgos, in order to defray the expenses of a journey from Burgos to Cuenca. This proposition of the king was met with disdain by the noblemen

who had been assembled on the occasion."

DON NUNO, Count of Lara,
In anger and in pride,

And thus in wrath replied:

"Our noble ancestors," quoth he,
"Ne'er such a tribute paid;
Nor shall the king receive of us
What they have once gainsaid.

"The base-born soul who deems it just
May here with thee remain;
But follow me, ye cavaliers,
Ye noblemen of Spain."

Forth followed they the noble Count,
They marched to Glera's plain;
Out of three thousand gallant kuights
Did only three remain.

They tied the tribute to their spears,
They raised it in the air,

And they sent to tell their lord the king

That his tax was ready there.

'He may send and take by force," said they,

"This paltry sum of gold; But the goodly gift of liberty Cannot be bought and sold."

III.

"One of the finest of the historic ballads is that which describes Bernardo's march to Roncesvalles. He sallies forth with three thousand Leonese and more,' to protect the glory and freedom of his native land. From all sides, the peasantry of the land flock to the hero's standard."

THE peasant leaves his plough afield,
The reaper leaves his hook,
And from his hand the shepherd-boy
Lets fall the pastoral crook.

The young set up a shout of joy,
The old forget their years,
The feeble man grows stout of heart.
No more the craven fears.

All rush to Bernard's standard,

And on liberty they call;
They cannot brook to wear the yoke,
When threatened by the Gaul.

«Free were we born," 't is thus they cry
"And willingly pay we
The duty that we owe our king
By the divine decree,

"But God forbid that we obey The laws of foreign knaves, Tarnish the glory of our sires,

And make our children slaves.

"Our hearts have not so craven grown,
So bloodless all our veins,
So vigorless our brawny arms,
As to submit to chains.

"Has the audacious Frank, forsooth, Subdued these seas and lands? Shall he a bloodless victory have? No, not while we have hands.

"He shall learn that the gallant Leonese
Can bravely fight and fall,
But that they know not how to yield;
They are Castilians all.

"Was it for this the Roman power
Of old was made to yield
Unto Numantia's valiant hosts
On many a bloody field?

"Shall the bold lions that have bathed

Their paws in Libyan gore, Crouch basely to a feebler foe,

And dare the strife no more?

"Let the false king sell town and tower,
But not his vassals free;
For to subdue the free-born soul
No royal power hath he!"

VIDA DE SAN MILLAN.

BY GONZALO DE BERCEO.

----

AND when the kings were in the field, their squadrons in array, With lance in rest they onward pressed to mingle in the fray;

But soon upon the Christians fell a terror of their foes,

handful those.

the bloody fight,

FROM THE SWEDISH AND DANISH.

PASSAGES FROM FRITHIOF'S SAGA.

BY ESAIAS TEGNÉR.

I.

FRITHIOF'S HOMESTEAD.

THREE miles extended around the fields

of the homestead, on three sides Valleys and mountains and hills, but on

the fourth side was the ocean. Birch woods crowned the summits, but

down the slope of the hillsides Flourished the golden corn, and man

high was waving the rye-field. Lakes, full many in number, their mirror held up for the mountains, Held for the forests up, in whose depths the high-horned reindeers

Had their kingly walk, and drank of a hundred brooklets.

But in the valleys widely around, there fed on the greensward Herds with shining hides and udders

that longed for the milk-pail. 'Mid these scattered, now here and now

there, were numberless flocks of Sheep with fleeces white, as thou seest

the white-looking stray clouds, Flockwise spread o'er the heavenly vault when it bloweth in spring

time.

Coursers two times twelve, all mettle

some, fast fettered storm-winds, Stamping stood in the line of stalls, and tugged at their fodder. Knotted with red were their manes, and their hoofs all white with steel shoes.

Th' banquet-hall, a house by itself, was

timbered of hard fir.

Not five hundred men (at ten times twelve to the hundred) Filled up the roomy hall, when assembled for drinking, at Yule-tide. Thorough the hall, as long as it was, went a table of holm-oak, Polished and white, as of steel; the col

umns twain of the High-seat Stood at the end thereof, two gods carved out of an elm-tree: Odin with lordly look, and Frey with the sun on his frontlet.

Lately between the two, on a bear-skin (the skin it was coal-black,

Scarlet-red was the throat, but the paws were shodden with silver), Thorsten sat with his friends, Hospitality sitting with Gladness.

Oft, when the moon through the cloudrack flew, related the old man Wonders from distant lands he had seen, and cruises of Vikings

Far away on the Baltic, and Sea of the West, and the White Sea. Hushed sat the listening bench, and their glances hung on the graybeard's Lips, as a bee on the rose; but the Scald was thinking of Brage, Where, with his silver beard, and runes on his tongue, he is seated Under the leafy beech, and tells a tradi tion by Mimer's

Ever-murmuring wave, himself a living tradition.

Midway the floor (with thatch was it

strewn) burned ever the fire-flame Glad on its stone-built hearth; and thor

ough the wide-mouthed smoke-flue Looked the stars, those heavenly friends, down into the great hall. Round the walls, upon nails of steel, were hanging in order Breastplate and helmet together, and here and there among them Downward lightened a sword, as in winter evening a star shoots. More than helmets and swords the shields in the hall were resplendent, White as the orb of the sun, or white as the moon's disk of silver. Ever and anon went a maid round the board, and filled up the drink

horns,

Ever she cast down her eyes and blushed; in the shield her reflection Blushed, too, even as she; this gladdened the drinking champions.

II.

A SLEDGE-RIDE ON THE ICE.

KING RING with his queen to the banquet did fare,

On the lake stood the ice so mirror-clear.

"Fare not o'er the ice," the stranger cries;

"It will burst, and full deep the cold bath lies."

"The king drowns not easily," Ring outspake;

"He who's afraid may go round the

lake."

Threatening and dark looked the stranger round,

Like a star upon a spring-cloud sits she on her palfrey white.

Half of Freya, half of Rota, yet more beauteous than these two,

And from her light hat of purple wave aloft the feathers blue.

FRITHIOF'S TEMPTATION.

SPRING is coming, birds are twittering, forests leaf, and smiles the sun, And the loosened torrents downward,

singing, to the ocean rur; Glowing like the cheek of Freya, peeping rosebuds 'gin to ope, And in human hearts awaken love of life, and joy, and hope.

Now will hunt the ancient monarch, and the queen shall join the sport: Swarming in its gorgeous splendor, is

assembled all the court; Bows ring loud, and quivers rattle, stal

lions paw the ground alway, And, with hoods upon their eyelids, scream the falcons for their prey.

See, the Queen of the chase advances! Frithiof, gaze not at the sight!

Oh

not at her golden hair! beware! her waist is slender, full

her bosom is, beware!

Look not at the rose and lily on her cheek that shifting play, List not to the voice beloved, whispering like the wind of May.

Now the huntsman's band is ready. Hurrah! over hill and dale! Horns ring, and the hawks right upward to the hall of Odin sail.

All the dwellers in the forest seek in fear their cavern homes, But, with spear outstretched before her, after them the Valkyr comes.

Then threw Frithiof down his mantle, and upon the greensward spread,

And the ancient king so trustful laid on Frithiof's knee his head,

Slept as calmly as the hero sleepeth, after war's alarm,

On his shield, or as an infant sleeps upon its mother's arm.

As he slumbers, hark! there sings a coal-black bird upon the bough; "Hasten, Frithiof, slay the old man, end your quarrel at a blow: Take his queen, for she is thine, and once the bridal kiss she gave, Now no human eye beholds thee, deep and silent is the grave."

Frithiof listens; hark! there sings a

snow-white bird upon the bough: "Though no human eye beholds thee, Odin's eye beholds thee now. Coward! wilt thou murder sleep, and a defenceless old man slay! Whatsoe'er thou winn'st, thou canst not win a hero's fame this way."

Thus the two wood birds did warble: Frithiof took his war-sword good,