“What books have we here for afternoon reading?” said Flemming, taking a volume from the parlour table, when they had returned from the dining-room.  “O, it is Uhland’s Poems.  Have you read any thing of his?  He and Tieck are the best living poets of Germany.  They dispute the palm of superiority.  Let me give you a lesson in German, this afternoon, Miss Ashburton; so that no one may accuse you of ’omitting the sweet benefit of time, to clothe your age with angel-like perfection.’  I have opened at random upon the ballad of the Black Knight.  You repeat the German after me, and I will translate to you.  Pfingsten war, das Fest der Freude!”

“I should never persuade my unwilling lips to pronounce such sounds.  So I beg you not to perplex me with your German, but read me the ballad in English.”

“Well, then, listen.  I will improvise a translation for your own particular benefit.

“’T was Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness,

When woods and fields put off all sadness.

Thus began the King and spake;

’So from the halls

Of ancient Hofburg’s walls,

A luxuriant Spring shall break.’

“Drums and trumpets echo loudly,

Wave the crimson banners proudly.

From balcony the King looked on;

In the play of spears,

Fell all the cavaliers,

Before the monarch’s stalwart son.

“To the barrier of the fight,

Rode at last a sable Knight.

‘Sir Knight! your name and scutcheon, say!’

’Should I speak it here,

Ye would stand aghast with fear;

Am a Prince of mighty sway!’

“When he rode into the lists,

The arch of heaven grew black with mists,

And the castle ’gan to rock.

At the first blow,

Fell the youth from saddle-bow,

Hardly rises from the shock.

“Pipe and viol call the dances,

Torch-light through the high halls glances;

Waves a mighty shadow in.

With manner bland

Doth ask the maiden’s hand,

Doth with her the dance begin.

“Danced in sable iron sark,

Danced a measure weird and dark,

Coldly clasped her limbs around.

From breast and hair

Down fall from her the fair

Flowerets wilted to the ground.

“To the sumptuous banquet came

Every Knight and every Dame.

’Twixt son and daughter all distraught,

With mournful mind

The ancient King reclined,

Gazed at them in silent thought.

“Pale the children both did look,

But the guest a beaker took;

’Golden wine will make you whole!”

The children drank,

Gave many a courteous thank;

‘O that draught was very cool!’

“Each the father’s breast embraces,