DEATH OF WOODHULL.

AN AMERICAN BALLAD.

"General Woodhull commanded the Suffolk County Militia in the Battle of Long Island, in August, 1776, and is said to have been killed in that battle by a party of British dragoons, at the very moment when he offered to surrender himself a prisoner of war, because he refused to say God save the King.' This event took place at Carpenter's, a public-house, about two miles beyond Jamaica, where he was stationed with his brigade, and where he was attacked and defeated. There is a very aged woman, who was then the mistress of the house, and saw the tragical occurrence, still residing there, and in the habit of frequently telling the story to travellers, who occasionally stop for refreshments. By her, the following is supposed to have been spoken, and it perfectly corresponds with her usual narrative in every essential particular."-The Mirror, August 30, 1823.

STAY! traveller, stay! and hear me tell
A gallant soldier's fate!

'Twas on this spot brave Woodhull fell!
Sad story to relate!

A stout brigade was his command,
Of Suffolk's sons composed;
Thus far he led his patriot band,
And here his life he closed!

That time Lord Howe, from Gravesend Bay,

His banner bold advanced,

On that same dark and doubtful day,
In evil hour it chanced.

That Suffolk's raw, new-levied force,
Surprised and overthrown,
By sudden charge of furious horse,
Took flight and left alone

Their chief, exposed on battle-field,
Without a troop or guard,
For him to raise protecting shield
'Gainst Britain's vengeful sword!

He saw the desperate day was lost,
He saw himself betrayed;

Not one remained of all his host

To lend him needful aid!

Forthwith fierce horsemen gathering round,
Cut off all hope of flight;

And soon his single arm he found
With fearful odds must fight!

378

DEATH OF WOODHULL.

Full twenty foes about his head
Their glittering sabres flung,
And down, on his uplifted blade,
Swift blows descending rung!

But soon he ceased such fruitless strife,
And now for quarter cried,

Yet vainly begged a prisoner's life,
For thus the foe replied:

"Who will not say 'God save the King,'
No mercy here shall find;

These are the terms from George we bring;
Art thou to these inclined?

"If thou wilt straight pronounce these words,
We grant thy traitor's prayer,

And, peaceful sheathed, our loyal swords
Thy rebel life shall spare!

"But if this offer thou refuse,

Thy doom is instant death;

Then speak! thy life to save or lose!
It hangs on thy next breath!"

The chief, indignant, answering, spake,
"Your mercy then I spurn,
On such base terms my life to take,
Proud haughty foe I scorn!

“I freely say 'God save us all,'
Those words include your King;
If more ye ask, then must I fall,
Nought else from me ye'll wring."

"No! rebel, no, 'tis not enough,"
On every side he heard;

"And since thou art such stubborn stuff,
Lo! thus we keep our word!"

Then straightway, showering thick as hail,

Their cruel blows they dealt.

Their countless weapons fiercely fell,

And many an edge he felt!

Yet still he held his trusty sword
Upraised above his head,

And feebly strove his life to guard
While he profusely bled!

SIR OLAFF AND THE ERL-KING'S DAUGHTER.

"God save the King," the horsemen said,

At every stroke they gave;

"God save us all," he faintly cried,
"And me, a sinner, save!"

Till gashed with many a gaping wound,
At length they smote him dead,

And, prostrate stretched upon the ground,
His generous spirit fled!

A more heroic, gallant end,

No age nor clime can boast;

Yet History ne'er the tale hath penned,
And but for me 'twere lost!

Had he thus died for ancient Rome,
His now forgotten name,

By poet's page, and sculptured tomb,
Had well been known to Fame!

379

SIR OLAFF AND THE ERL-KING'S DAUGHTER.

A DANISH BALLAD.

We learn that the original of this capital specimen of the traditions of the legendary North appeared in the "Kiämpe-Vüser," published upwards of a century ago at Copenhagen. It was translated into German, together with two other pieces by Herder, and included by him in his "Volksleider"-" The Voices of the Nations in Song." Matthew Gregory Lewis has translated the three Danish ballads, translated by Herder, into his collection. Lewis's translation of "The Erl-King's Daughter" in "The Tales of Wonder," is paraphrastic, whereas the following version is made direct from the German translation, and is as close as the nature of the two languages will permit, preserving not only the metre, but the spirit of the original.

I.

LATE rideth Sir Olaff-fast fadeth the west,

To his wedding he biddeth the priest and the guest.

II.

The Elves are all dancing along the lone stand;
And the Erl-King's daughter holds out her white hand.

III.

"Oh, welcome, Sir Olaff! why haste thee to flee ?
Come join the gay ring-dance a measure with me!"

380

SIR OLAFF AND THE ERL-KING'S DAUGHTER.

"Nay, lead thee a measure, nor will I nor may-
To-morrow, at dawning, breaks my wedding-day!"

V.

"Oh! hear me, Sir Olaff, and dance here with me-
The gold spurs of knighthood I'll give unto thee!

VI.

"And a shirt of the silk, so fine and so white,
That my mother hath bleached in the full moonlight."

66

VII.

'Nay, dance with thee, fair one, nor will I nor may,
To-morrow, at dawning, wakes my wedding-day."

VIII.

"Oh! hear me, Sir Olaff, and dance here with me,
A heap of red gold I will give unto thee."

IX.

"The heap of red gold were right welcome to me,-
But I cannot, I dare not dance, lady, with thee."

X.

"Thou wilt not? Then happy thy bride shall be never, Sickness and sorrow shall follow thee ever!"

XI.

Lightly she touched both his breast and his brow-
In anguish he shrank from the death-giving blow.

XII.

She raised him, all fainting and pale, on his steed-
"Home! home to thy maid with a doomed lover's speed!"

XIII.

Home, home rode Sir Olaff; he reached his own gate,
Where alone stood his mother, disconsolate.

OLD VALE OF WHITE HORSE BALLAD.

"Tell, oh! tell me, dear Olaff-my child,

Why so pale is thy cheek, and thine eyes so wild ?"

XV.

"And should not my cheek wear the paleness of death?
The Court of the Erl-King I've seen on the heath."

XVI.

"And oh ! tell me," she said, "my heart's only pride,
What, what shall I say to thy sorrowing bride?"

XVII.

Say her Olaff is gone to the dark pine wood,

To try his staunch sleuth-hound, and charger good."

XVIII.

The day it is dawning-red blusheth the east,
The bride and the bridal-train come to the feast.

XIX.

They drink the gold mead, and they drink the red wine,
"But where is Sir Olaff-dear bridegroom of mine ?"

XX.

"He is gone, he is gone to the dark pine wood,
To try his staunch sleuth-hound, and charger good!"

XXI.

But the faltering young bride drew the curtain red,
And there lay Sir Olaff, cold, pallid, and dead!

381

OLD VALE OF WHITE HORSE BALLAD.

The following ballad is one of the popular songs of the peasantry in the locality to which it refers-in the county of Berkshire. It was taken down from the mouth of an old man in the neighbourhood. The old Vale of the White Horse was the scene of the Battle of Ashdown, between the Saxons and Danes.

I COURTED a fair maid for many a long day,
I hated all those who against her did say;
But now she's rewarded me for all my pain,
She has given herself to another.