TRANSLATION FROM THE IDYLS OF GESSNER.

Delia! when in your lover's eyes, At your approach soft l.u.s.tre rise, When with charm'd ear, from thy sweet tongue, He listens to the thrilling song, O'er saddest scenes delights you fling, And winter wears the smile of spring.

When o'er the mead with you I stray, More fragrant is the new-mown hay, When gath'ring flow'rets at your side, The buds more vivid swell with pride, And bend, your snowy hand to meet, Or am'rous twine beneath your feet.

But when within your arms you press me, When with a long, long kiss you bless me, Ah! then in vain, the fairest flow'rs Exert their balmy-breathing pow'rs; In vain her sweets does Nature bring, In vain she wears the smile of spring.

Then Delia! nought on earth but thee, My ravish'd senses feel or see, With Love's wild frenzy then possessed, My trembling heart beats 'gainst thy breast, Then fondly sink, o'erpower'd with bliss, Only alive to Delia's kiss.

Q. V.

_Port Folio_, I-87, Mar. 14, 1801, Phila.

LEONORA. [b].

A Tale, from the German.

"Ah, William! art thou false or dead?"

Cried Leonora from her bed.

"I dreamt thou'dst ne'er return."

William had fought in Frederick's host At Prague--and what his fate--if lost Or false, she could not learn.

Hungaria's queen and Prussia's king, Wearied, at length with bickering, Resolv'd to end the strife; And homewards, then, their separate routs The armies took, with songs and shouts, With cymbals, drum and fife.

As deck'd with boughs they march'd along, From every door, the old and young Rush'd forth the troops to greet.

"Thank G.o.d," each child and parent cry'd, And "welcome, welcome," many a bride, As friends long parted meet.

They joy'd, poor Leonora griev'd: No kiss she gave, no kiss receiv'd; Of William none could tell; She rung her hands, and tore her hair; Till left alone in deep despair, Bereft of sense, she fell.

Swift to her aid her mother came, "Ah! say," cried she, "in mercy's name, "What means this frantic grief?"

"Mother 'tis past--all hopes are fled, "G.o.d hath no mercy, William's dead, "My woe is past relief."

"Pardon, O pardon, Lord above!

"My child, with pray'rs invoke his love, "The Almighty never errs?"

"O, mother! mother! idle prate, "Can he be anxious for my fate, "Who never heard my prayers?"

"Be patient child, in G.o.d believe, "The good he can, and will relieve, "To trust his power endeavour."

"O, mother! mother! all is vain, "What trust can bring to life again?

"The past, is past for ever."

"Who knows, but that he yet survives; "Perchance, far off from hence he lives, "And thinks no more of you.

"Forget, forget, the faithless youth, "Away with grief, your sorrow soothe, "Since William proves untrue."

"Mother, all hope has fled my mind, "The past, is past, our G.o.d's unkind; "Why did he give me breath?

"Oh that this hated loathsome light "Would fade for ever from my sight, "Come, death, come, welcome death!"

"Indulgent Father, spare my child, "Her agony hath made her wild, "She knows not what she does.

"Daughter, forget thy earthly love, "Look up to him who reigns above, "Where joys succeed to woes."

"Mother what now are joys to me?

"With William, h.e.l.l a Heaven could be, "Without him, Heaven a h.e.l.l.

"Fade, fade away, thou hated light, "Death bear me hence to endless night, "With love all hope farewell."

Thus rashly, Leonora strove To doubt the truth of heavenly love.

She wept, and beat her breast; She pray'd for death, until the moon With all the stars with silence shone, And sooth'd the world to rest.

When, hark! without, what sudden sound!

She hears a trampling o'er the ground, Some horseman must be near!

He stops, he rings, Hark! as the noise Dies soft away, a well-known voice Thus greets her list'ning ear.

"Wake, Leonora;--dost thou sleep, "Or thoughtless laugh, or constant weep, "Is William welcome home?"

"Dear William, you!--return'd, and well!

"I've wak'd and wept--but why, ah! tell, "So late--at night you come?"

"At midnight only dare we roam, "For thee from Prague, though late, I come."

"For me!--stay here and rest; "The wild winds whistle o'er the waste, "Ah, dear William! why such haste?

"First warm thee in my breast."

"Let the winds whistle o'er the waste, "My duty bids me be in haste; "Quick, mount upon my steed: "Let the winds whistle far and wide, "Ere morn, two hundred leagues we'll ride, "To reach our marriage bed."

"What, William! for a bridal room, "Travel to night so far from home?"

"Leonora, 'tis decreed.

"Look round thee, love, the moon shines clear, "The dead ride swiftly; never fear, "We'll reach our marriage bed."

"Ah, William! whither would'st thou speed, "What! where! this distant marriage bed?"

"Leonora, no delay.

"'Tis far from hence; still--cold--and small: "Six planks, no more, compose it all; "Our guests await, away!"

She lightly on the courser sprung, And her white arms round William flung, Like to a lily wreath.

In swiftest gallop off they go, The stones and sparks around them throw, And pant the way for breath.

The objects fly on every side, The bridges thunder as they ride; "Art thou my love afraid?

"Death swiftly rides, the moon shines clear, "The dead doth Leonora fear?"

"Ah, no! why name the dead?"

Hark! as their rapid course they urge, A pa.s.sing bell, a solemn dirge; Hoa.r.s.e ravens join the strain.

They see a coffin on a bier, A priest and mourners too appear, Slow moving o'er the plain.

And sad was heard the funeral lay; "What the Lord gives, he takes away; "Life's but a fleeting shade.

"A tale that's told,--a flower that falls; "Death, when the least expected, calls, "And bears us to his bed."

"Forbear;"--imperious William cry'd "I carry home, a beauteous bride, "Come, to our marriage feast; "Mourners, away, we want your song; "And as we swiftly haste along, "Give us your blessing, priest.

"Sing on, that life is like a shade; "A tale that's told, or flowers which fade: "Such strains will yield delight.

"And, when we to our chamber go, "Bury your dead, with wail and woe; "The service suits the night."

While William speaks, they silent stand, Then run obedient to command, But, on with furious bound, The foaming courser forward flew, Fire and stones his heels pursue, Like whirlwinds dash'd around.