ongly notion, do you an infernal deal of good.
Then you'd understand more clearly than you ever did before,
Why an independent patriot freely spits upon the floor,
Why he gouges when he pleases, why he whittles at the chairs,
Why for swift and deadly combat still the bowie-knife he bears,--
Why he sneers at the old country with republican disdain,
And, unheedful of the negro's cry, still tighter draws his chain.
All these things the judge shall teach thee of the land thou hast
reviled;
Get thee o'er the wide Atlantic, worthless London's puling child!

MISCELLANEOUS BALLADS

The Student of Jena.

Once--'twas when I lived at Jena--
At a Wirthshaus' door I sat;
And in pensive contemplation
Ate the sausage thick and fat;
Ate the kraut that never sourer
Tasted to my lips than here;
Smoked my pipe of strong canaster,
Sipped my fifteenth jug of beer;
Gazed upon the glancing river,
Gazed upon the tranquil pool,
Whence the silver-voiced Undine,
When the nights were calm and cool,
As the Baron Fouque tells us,
Rose from out her shelly grot,
Casting glamour o'er the waters,
Witching that enchanted spot.
From the shadow which the coppice
Flings across the rippling stream,
Did I hear a sound of music--
Was it thought or was it dream?
There, beside a pile of linen,
Stretched along the daisied sward,
Stood a young and blooming maiden--
'Twas her thrush-like song I heard.
Evermore within the eddy
Did she plunge the white chemise;
And her robes were loosely gathered
Rather far above her knees;
Then my breath at once forsook me,
For too surely did I deem
That I saw the fair Undine
Standing in the glancing stream--
And I felt the charm of knighthood;
And from that remembered day,
Every evening to the Wirthshaus
Took I my enchanted way.

Shortly to relate my story,
Many a week of summer long
Came I there, when beer-o'ertaken,
With my lute and with my song;
Sang in mellow-toned soprano
All my love and all my woe,
Till the river-maiden answered,
Lilting in the stream below:--
"Fair Undine! sweet Undine!
Dost thou love as I love thee?"
"Love is free as running water,"
Was the answer made to me.

Thus, in interchange seraphic,
Did I woo my phantom fay,
Till the nights grew long and chilly,
Short and shorter grew the day;
Till at last--'twas dark and gloomy,
Dull and starless was the sky,
And my steps were all unsteady
For a little flushed w