* * * * * A long way off--Lucinda strikes the men. As she draws near, And one see clear, A long way off--one wishes her again. _Phila. Repos._, V-128, Apr. 20, 1805, Phila. In Dr. Cogan's amusing and _Shandean_ Travels on the Rhine, he has preserved a _German_ Ode to Evening. They, who are curious to behold the _Teutonic_ Muse, in the character of a pensive minstrel, may here be gratified. Komm, stiller abend, neider, Auf unsre kleine flur; Dir tönen unsre lieder, Wie schön bist du, natur! Schon steigt die abendröthe Herab ins kühle thal; Bald glantz in sanfter röthe Der sonne letzter strahl. All uberal herrscht schweigen Nur schwingt der vogel chor Hoch aus den dunkeln zweigen Den nacht gesang empor. Komm, lieber abend, neider Auf unsre kleine flur; Dir tönen unsre lieder, Wie schön bist du natur. TRANSLATION. Come, silent Eve, return again, Our homely cottage view, And hear us sing a cheerful strain, To thee, and nature due. The sun retires yon hills behind, And sinks into the sea, Glancing his rays both mild and kind, Oh, blushing maid, on thee. To thee he yields the soothing sway, Inviting all to rest; The birds conclude the happy day With singing on thy breast. Come, silent Eve, return again, Our homely cottage view, And hear us sing a cheerful strain, To thee and nature due. _Port Folio_, V-149, May 18, 1805, Phila. FROM THE GERMAN OF LESSING. Ah! why am I so transient, ask'd of Jupiter, Beauty? Only the transient is fair, smiling answer'd the God! Love, and Youth, and the Spring, and the Flow'rs, and the Dew, they all heard it; Slowly they turn'd away, weeping from Jupiter's throne! _Port Folio_, I-40, Jan. 25, 1806, Phila. THE WOODEN LEG. [a]. An Helvetick Tale. From the German of Solomon Gessner. [Prose translation.] _Polyanthos_, I-192, Feb., 1806, Boston. [S. Gessner, _Das hölzerne Bein_. W. Hooper, _New Idylles_, p. 78.] It is but seldom that the Muses of the North sing more sweetly than in the following strain: SONG--FROM THE GERMAN. Scarce sixteen summers had I seen, And rov'd my native bow'rs; Nor stray'd my thoughts beyond the green, Bedew'd with shrubs and flow'rs. When late a stranger youth appear'd; I neither wish'd nor sought him; He came, but whence I never heard, And spake what love had taught him. His hair in graceful ringlets play'd, All eyes are charm'd that view them, And o'er his comely shoulders stray'd, Where wanton zephyrs blew them.