our of four, good sirs, has struck.
Four seasons crown the farmer's care;--
Thy heart with equal toil prepare!
Up, up! awake, nor slumber on!
The morn approaches, night is gone!
Thank God, who by his power and might
Has watched and kept us through this night!

The Class devoted an autumn evening to singing the songs of the Rhine;
the "Watch on the Rhine," the "Loreley," the student-songs,
folk-songs, and some of the chorals of Luther. The song that proved
most inspiring was the "Wild Chase of Luetzow." Master Beal awakened a
deep interest in this song before it was sung, by relating its
history.

"THE WILD HUNT OF LUeTZOW."

All musical ears are familiar with the refrain: "Yes, 'tis the hunt
of Luetzow the free and the bold,"--if not with these exact words,
with other words of the same meaning. The music of C. M. Von Weber
has carried the "hunt" of Luetzow over the world. The song and music
alike catch the spirit and the movement of a corps of cavalry bent
on the destruction of an enemy. One sees the flying horsemen in the
poem, and hears them in the music. It was one of the few martial
compositions that starts one to one's feet, and stirs one's blood
with the memory of heroic achievements.

I will give you one of the most vigorous translations. Longfellow
has adopted it in his "Poems of Places." It catches the spirit of
the original, and very nearly reproduces the original thought.

LUeTZOW'S WILD CHASE.

What gleams from yon wood in the bright sunshine?
Hark! nearer and nearer 'tis sounding;
It hurries along, black line upon line,
And the shrill-voiced horns in the wild chase join,
The soul with dark horror confounding:
And if the black troopers' name you'd know,
'Tis Luetzow's wild Jaeger,--a-hunting they go!

[Illustration: MAYENCE IN THE OLDEN TIME.]

From hill to hill, through the dark wood they hie,
And warrior to warrior is calling;
Behind the thick bushes in ambush they lie,
The rifle is heard, and the loud war-cry,
In rows the Frank minions are falling:
And if the black troopers' name you'd know,
'Tis Luetzow's wild Jaeger,--a-hunting they go!

Where the bright grapes glow, and the Rhine rolls wide,
He weened they would follow him never;
But the pursuit came like the storm in its pride,
With sinewy arms they parted the tide,
And reached the fa