[E. Schickaneder, _Die Zauberflöte_. Oper in zwei Aufzügen von Mozart. Dichtung nach Ludwig Giesecke von E. Schickaneder. James Montgomery, _The Wanderer of Switzerland and Other Poems_, London, 1806. First Amer. ed. from second London ed., N. Y., 1807. P. 93.] THE CHASE. In the third number[33] of the Port Folio we inserted a very humorous parody of the following ballad of Bürger. We understand from the criticks in the German Language that the original is eminently beautiful. Its merit was once so highly appreciated in England that a host of translators started at once in the race for public favor. The ensuing version which is, we believe, by Sir Walter Scott, Esqr., well deserves a place in this journal. [Footnote 33: _Parody on Bürger's Earl Walter_ in _Port Folio_, III-44, Jan. 17, 1807. Cf. p. 165.] [The translation by Scott follows.] _Port Folio_, III-100, Feb. 14, 1807, Phila. [Also in _Weekly Mag._, II-413, July 28, 1798, Phila.] The following charming SONG is translated from the German by Mr. Herbert. "Hail, orient sun, auspicious light! Hail, new-born orb of day! Lo, from behind the wood-crown'd height, Breaks forth thy glittering ray. Behold it sparkle in the stream, And on the dew drop shine! O, may sweet joy's enlivening beam Mix his pure rays with thine! The Zephyrs now, with frolic wing, Their rosy beds forsake; And, shedding round the sweets of spring, Their drowsy comrades wake. Soft sleep and all his airy forms Fly from the dawning day: Like little loves O may their swarms On Chloe's bosom play! Ye Zephyrs haste; from every flower The sweetest perfumes take; And bear them hence to Chloe's bower; For soon the maid must wake! And, hovering round her fragrant bed, In breezes call my fair; Go, frolic round her graceful head, And scent her golden hair! Then gently whisper in her ear, That ere the sun gan rise, By the soft murmuring fountain here I breath'd her name in sighs." _Observer_, I-352, May 30, 1807, Balto. Selected Poetry. THE POEM OF HALLER VERSIFIED. By HENRY JAMES PYE, Esq., P.L. Ah! woods forever dear! whose branches spread Their verdant arch o'er Hasel's breezy head, When shall I once again, supinely laid, Hear Philomela charm your list'ning shade? When shall I stretch my careless limbs again, Where, gently rising from the velvet plain, O'er the green hills, in easy curve that bend, The mossy carpet Nature's hands extend? Where all is silent! save the gales that move The leafy umbrage of the whisp'ring grove; Or the soft murmurs of the rivulet's wave, Whose chearing streams the lonely meadows lave.