he work was complete,
To form for a dead man a shirt or a sheet.

The heroes return'd from the well-foughten field,
And bore home Sir Frovin's corse, laid on a shield;
Sad sight for the maid! but she still was alert,
And sew'd round the body the funeral shirt:

And when she had come to the very last stitch,
Her feelings, so long suppress'd, rose to a pitch,
The cold clammy sweat from her features outbroke;
Death struck her, and meekly she bow'd to the stroke.

She rests with her lover now deep in the grave,
And o'er them the beeches their mossy boughs wave;
There sing the Erl-maidens their ditties aloud,
And dance while the merry moon peeps from the cloud.

AAGER AND ELIZA.
FROM THE OLD DANISH.

Have ye heard of bold Sir Aager,
How he rode to yonder isle;
There he saw the sweet Eliza,
Who upon him deign'd to smile.

There he married sweet Eliza,
With her lands and ruddy gold--
Wo is me! the Monday after,
Dead he lay beneath the mould!

In her bower sat Eliza;
Rent the air with shriek and groan;
All which heard the good Sir Aager,
Underneath the granite stone.

Up his mighty limbs he gather'd,
Took the coffin on his back;
And to fair Eliza's bower
Hasten'd, by the well-known track.

On her chamber's lowly portal,
With his fingers long and thin,
Thrice he tapp'd, and bade Eliza
Straightway let her bridegroom in!

Straightway answer'd fair Eliza,
"I will not undo my door
Till I hear thee name sweet Jesus,
As thou oft hast done before."

"Rise, O rise, my own Eliza,
And undo thy chamber door;
I can name the name of Jesus,
As I once could do before."

Up then rose the sweet Eliza,--
Up she rose, and twirl'd the pin.
Straight the chamber door flew open,
And the dead man glided in.

With her comb she comb'd his ringlets,
For she felt but little fear:
On each lock that she adjusted
Fell a hot and briny tear.

"Listen, now, my good Sir Aager,
Dearest bridegroom, all I crave
Is to know how it goes with thee,
In that lonely place, the grave?"

"Every time that thou rejoicest,
And thy breast with pleasure heaves,
Then that moment is my coffin
Lin'd with rose and laurel leaves.

"Every time that thou art shedding
From thine eyes the briny flood,
Then that moment is my coffin
Fill'd with black and loathsome blood.

"Heard I not the red cock crowing,
Distant far upon the wind?
Down to dust the dead are going,
And I may not stop behind.

"Heaven's ruddy portals open,--
Daylight