“Let them sorrow, and sorrow their fill,
But back to them never return I will.”
“Think on them, Agnes, think on them all;
Think on the great one, think on the small.”
“Little, O little, care I for them all,
Or for the great one, or for the small.”
O, bitterly then did the Merman weep;
He hied him back to the foamy deep:
But, often his shrieks and mournful cries,
At midnight’s hour, from thence arise.
MISCELLANIES.
CANTATA.
This is Denmark’s holyday;
Dance, ye maidens!
Sing, ye men!
Tune, ye harpers!
Blush, ye heroes!
This is Denmark’s holyday.
ONE VOICE.
In right’s enjoyment, in the arm of love,
Beneath the olive’s shadow,
The Daneman sat;
Whilst wet and steaming wav’d the bloody flag
Above the regions of the sunny South.
Pure was our heaven,—
Pure and blue;
For, with his pinions, angel Peace dispell’d
All reek and vapour from mild virtue’s sphere;
Then lower’d Battle’s blood-bespatter’d son
Upon our coast,—
And haggard Envy lent to him her torch,
Which sparkled high with hell’s sulphureous light,
Then fled the genius of peace, and wept.