Johann Christoph Gottsched,—Cato. Johann Jacob Bodmer,—Character of German Poetry. Barthold Heinrich Brockes. Johann Christian Günther. Nicolaus Ludwig Graf von Zinzendorf. Christian Ludwig Liscow. Friedrich von Hagedorn. Albrecht von Haller. Gottlieb Wilhelm Rabener. Ewald Christian von Kleist. Christian Fürchtegott Gellert. Johann Ludwig Gleim. Johann Peter Uz. Justus Möser. Klopstock. See below. Salomon Gessner. Johann Winckelmann. Lessing. See below. Johann Georg Hamann. Immanuel Kant. Johann August Musæus. Wieland. See below. Gottlieb Konrad Pfeffel. Christian Friedrich Daniel Schubart. Matthias Claudius. Johann Caspar Lavater. Herder. See below. Heinrich Jung, Stilling. Georg Christoph Lichtenberg. Gottfried August Bürger. Johann Heinrich Voss. Friedrich Leopold und Christian Grafen zu Stollberg. Das Siebengestirn der Dichter des achtzehnten Jahrhunderts,— 1. Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock. 2. Gotthold Ephraim Lessing. 3. Christoph Martin Wieland. 4. Johann Gottfried von Herder. 5. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. 6. Johann Christoph Friedrich von Schiller. 7. Jean Paul Friedrich Richter. II. OLD GERMAN LOVE-SONGS.(8) Seven hundred years ago! What a long time it seems! Philip Augustus, King of France; Henry II., King of England; Frederic I., the famous Barbarossa, Emperor of Germany! When we read of their times, the times of the Crusades, we feel as the Greeks felt when reading of the War of Troy. We listen, we admire, but we do not compare the heroes of St. Jean d’Acre with the great generals of the nineteenth century. They seem a different race of men from those who are now living, and poetry and tradition have lent to their royal frames such colossal proportions that we hardly dare to criticise the legendary history of their chivalrous achievements. It was a time of heroes, of saints, of martyrs, of miracles! Thomas à Becket was murdered at Canterbury, but for more than three hundred years his name lived on, and his bones were working miracles, and his soul seemed as it were embodied and petrified in the lofty pillars that surround the spot of his martyrdom. Abelard was persecuted and imprisoned, but his spirit revived in the Reformers of the sixteenth century, and the shrine of Abelard and Héloise in the Père La Chaise is still decorated every year with garlands of _immortelles_. Barbarossa was drowned in the same river in which Alexander the Great had bathed his royal limbs, but his fame lived on in every cottage of Germany, and the peasant near the Kyffhäuser still believes that some day the mighty Emperor will awake from his long slumber, and rouse the people of Germany from their fatal dreams. We dare not hold communion with such stately heroes as Frederick the Red-beard and Richard the Lion-heart; they seem half to belong to the realm of fable. We feel from our very school-days as if we could shake hands with a Themistocles and sit down in the company of a Julius Cæsar, but we are