nts now from every side,
Pours fast a fiery flood;
On each o'erwhelming wave upborne,
Loud howls the hellish brood.

Sullen and grisly gleams the light,
Now red, now green, now blue;
Whilst o'er the gulf the fiendish train
Their destined prey pursue.

In vain he shrieks with wild despair,
In vain he strives to fly;
Still at his back the hell-born crew
Their cursed business ply.

By day, full many a fathom deep
Below earth's smiling face;
By night, high through the troubled air,
They speed their endless chase.

In vain to turn his eyes aside
He strives with wild affright;
So never may those maddening scenes
Escape his tortured sight.

Still must he see those dogs of hell
Close hovering on his track;
Still must he see the avenging scourge
Uplighted at his back.

Now this is the wild baron's hunt;
And many a village youth,
And many a sportsman (dare they speak)
Could vouch the awful truth.

For oft benighted midst the wilds
The fiendish troop they hear,
Now shrieking shrill, now cursing loud,
Come thundering through the air.

No hand shall stay those dogs of hell
Or quench that sea of fire,
Till god's own dreadful day of doom
Shall bid the world expire!

_Rambler's Mag._, I-137, [1809], N. Y.

[G. A. Buerger, _Der wilde Jaeger_.]

III.

TRANSLATIONS OF DUTCH, DANISH, NORWEGIAN AND ICELANDIC POETRY, AND
ORIGINAL POEMS REFERRING TO THE GERMAN COUNTRIES.

We hear from _Annopolis-Royal_ that a play was acted the last Winter
for the Entertainment of the Officers and Ladies at that Place and
that the following Lines were Part of the Prologue compos'd and spoke
on that Occasion.

Whilst to relieve a generous Queen's Distress,
Whom proud, ambitious Potentates oppress:
Our king pursues the most effectual Ways,
Sooths some to Peace, and there the Storm allays;
And against others, who're more loath to yield,
He leads his _Britons_ to the _German_ Field:
Where to his Cost th' insulting Foe has found
What 'tis with _Britons_ to dispute the Ground:
We still enjoying Peace in this cold Clime,
With innocent diversions pass our Time, &c.

_Amer. Mag. and Hist. Chron._, I-348, Apr. 1744, Boston.

WINTER, A POEM.