der-split linden,
He waits for his foe:
"Ha! joy to the hunter;
A monstrous bear
E'en now is approaching,
And bids me prepare.

"Hark! hark! for the monarch
Of forests, ere long,
Will breathe out his bellow,
Deep-throated and strong:"
Thus saying, he gazes
Intently around;
But, death to his wishes!
Can hear not a sound:

Except when, at moments,
The wind rising shrill
Wafts boughs from the bushes,
Across the lone hill.
Wo worth, to thee, squirrel,
Amid the green leaves,
Full oft thy loud rustle
The hunter deceives.

NATIONAL SONG.
FROM THE DANISH OF EVALD.

King Christian stood beside the mast;
Smoke, mixt with flame,
Hung o'er his guns, that rattled fast
Against the Gothmen, as they pass'd:
Then sunk each hostile sail and mast
In smoke and flame.
"Fly!" said the foe: "fly! all that can,
Nor wage, with Denmark's Christian,
The dread, unequal game."

Niels Juul look'd out, and loudly cried,
"Quick! now's the time:"
He hoisted up his banner wide,
And fore and aft his foemen plied;
And loud above the battle cried,
"Quick! now's the time."
"Fly!" said the foe, "'t is Fortune's rule,
To deck the head of Denmark's Juul
With Glory's wreath sublime."

Once, Baltic, when the musket's knell
Rang through the sky,
Down to thy bosom heroes fell
And gasp'd amid the stormy swell;
While, from the shore, a piercing yell
Rang through the sky!
"God aids me," cried our Tordenskiold;
"Proud foes, ye are but vainly bold;
Strike, strike, to me, or fly!"

Thou Danish path to fame and might,
Dark-rolling wave,
Receive a friend who holds as light
The perils of the stormy fight;
Who braves, like thee, the tempest's might;
Dark rolling wave,
O swiftly bear my bark along,
Till, crown'd with conquest, lull'd with song,
I reach my bourne--the grave.

THE OLD OAK.

Here have I stood, the pride of the park,
In winter with snow on my frozen bark;
In spring 'mong the flowers that smiling she spread,
And among my own leaves when summer was fled.
Three hundred years my top I have rais'd,
Three hundred years I have sadly gaz'd
O'er Nature's wide extended scene;
O'er rushing rivers and meadows green,
For though I was always willing to rove,
I never could yet my firm foot move.

They fell'd my brother, who stood by my side,
And flung out his arms so wide, so wide;
How envy I him, for how blest is he,
As the keel of a vessel he sails