The next poem is a little popular ballad, relating to a tradition, very common on the northern coast of Germany, both east and west of the peninsula, of islands swallowed by the sea, their spires, pinnacles, and roofs being on certain days still visible, and their bells audible, below the waves. One of these islands was called _Büsen_, or _Old Büsum_, and is supposed to have been situated opposite the village now called Büsen, on the west coast of Dithmarschen. Strange to say, the inhabitants of that island, in spite of their tragic fate, are represented rather in a comical light, as the Bœotians of Holstein. WAT SIK DAT VOLK VERTELLT. _Ol Büsum._ Ol Büsen hggt int wille Haff, De Floth de keem un wöhl en Graff. De Floth de keem un spöl un spöl, Bet se de Insel ünner wöhl. Dar blev keen Steen, dar blev keen Pahl, Dat Water schæl dat all hendal. Dar weer keen Beest, dar weer keen Hund, De ligt nu all in depen Grund. Un Allens, wat der lev un lach, Dat deck de See mit depe Nach. Mitünner in de holle Ebb So süht man vunne Hüs’ de Köpp. Denn dukt de Thorn herut ut Sand, As weert en Finger vun en Hand. Denn hört man sach de Klocken klingn, Denn hört man sach de Kanter singn; Denn geit dat lisen dær de Luft: “Begrabt den Leib in seine Gruft.” WHAT THE PEOPLE TELL. _Old Büsum._ Old Büsen sank into the waves; The sea has made full many graves; The flood came near and washed around, Until the rock to dust was ground. No stone remained, no belfry steep; All sank into the waters deep. There was no beast, there was no hound; They all were carried to the ground. And all that lived and laughed around The sea now holds in gloom profound. At times, when low the water falls, The sailor sees the broken walls; The church tower peeps from out the sand, Like to the finger of a hand. Then hears one low the church bells ringing Then hears one low the sexton singing; A chant is carried by the gust: “Give earth to earth, and dust to dust.” In the Baltic, too, similar traditions are current of sunken islands and towns buried in the sea, which are believed to be visible at certain times. The most famous tradition is that of the ancient town of Vineta,—once, it is said, the greatest emporium in the north of Europe,—several times destroyed and built up again, till, in 1183, it was upheaved by an earthquake and swallowed by a flood. The ruins of Vineta are believed to be visible between the coast of Pomerania and the island of Rügen. This tradition has suggested one of Wilhelm Müller’s—my father’s—lyrical songs, published in his “Stones and Shells from the Island of Rügen,” 1825, of which I am able to give a translation by Mr. J. A. Froude. VINETA. I. Aus des Meeres tiefem, tiefem Grunde Klingen Abendglocken dumpf und matt, Uns zu geben wunderbare Kunde Von der schönen alten Wunderstadt. II. In der Fluthen Sehooss hinabgesunken Blieben unten ihre Trümmer stehn, Ihre Zinnen lassen goldne Funken Wiederscheinend auf dem Spiegel sehn. III.