Sang them in their smoky barracks ; Suddenly the English cannon

Joined the chorus !

Peasants in the field,

Sailors on the roaring ocean,

Students, tradesmen, pale mechanics, All have sung them.

Thou hast been their friend;

They, alas have left thee friendless!
Yet at least by one warm fireside
Art thou welcome.

And, as swallows build

In these wide, old-fashioned chimneys,
So thy twittering songs shall nestle
In my bosom, -

Quiet, close, and warm,
Sheltered from all molestation,
And recalling by their voices
Youth and travel.

WALTER VON DER VOGELWEID.

VOGELWEID the Minnesinger,
When he left this world of ours,
Laid his body in the cloister,

Under Würtzburg's minster towers.

And he gave the monks his treasures, Gave them all with this behest: They should feed the birds at noontide Daily on his place of rest;

Saying, "From these wandering min strels

I have learned the art of song ; Let me now repay the lessons

They have taught so well and long."

Thus the bard of love departed;
And, fulfilling his desire,
On his tomb the birds were feasted
By the children of the choir.

Day by day, o'er tower and turret,
In foul weather and in fair,
Day by day, in vaster numbers,

Flocked the poets of the air.

On the tree whose heavy branches
Overshadowed all the place,
On the pavement, on the tombstone,
On the poet's sculptured face,

faithless is thy bosom !

To love me in prosperity,

And leave me in adversity!

O maiden fair! O maiden fair! how faithless is thy bosom !

and strong,

Through

crosses, through through manifold wrong.

sorrows,

Shouldst thou be torn from me to wander alone

So long as summer laughs she sings, But in the autumn spreads her wings. The nightingale, the nightingale, thou tak'st for thine example !

known,