When the learned Thomas Diafoirus wooed the fair Angélique, he drew from his pocket a medical thesis, and presented it to her, as the first-fruits of his genius; and at the same time, invited her, with her father's permission, to attend the dissection¹ of a woman, upon whom he was to lecture. Paul Flemming did nearly the same thing; and so often, that it had become a habit. He was continually drawing, from his pocket or his memory, some scrap² of song or story; and inviting³ some fair Angélique, either with her father's permission or without, to attend the dissection of anauthor, upon whom he was to discourse⁴. He soon gave proofs of this to Mary Ashburton.  
"What books have we here for afternoon reading?" said Flemming, taking a volume from the parlour table, when they had returned from the dining-room. "O, it is Uhland's Poems. Have you read any thing of his? He and Tieck are the best living poets of Germany. They dispute the palm of superiority. Let me give you a lesson in German, this afternoon, Miss Ashburton; so that no one may accuse you of 'omitting the sweet benefit of time, to clothe your age with angel-like perfection.' I have opened at random⁵ upon the ballad⁶ of the Black Knight⁷. You repeat the German after me, and I will translate to you. Pfingsten war, das Fest der Freude!"
 
"I should never persuade my unwilling⁸ lips to pronounce such sounds. So I beg you not to perplex me with your German, but read me the ballad in English."
 
"Well, then, listen. I will improvise⁹ a translation for your own particular benefit.
 
"'T was Pentecost, the Feast of Gladness,
 
When woods and fields put off all sadness.
 
Thus began the King and spake;
 
'So from the halls
 
Of ancient Hofburg's walls,
 
A luxuriant Spring shall break.'
 
"Drums and trumpets¹⁰ echo loudly,
 
Wave the crimson¹¹ banners proudly.
 
From balcony the King looked on;
 
In the play of spears,
 
Fell all the cavaliers,
 
Before the monarch's stalwart son.
 
"To the barrier of the fight,
 
Rode at last a sable¹² Knight.
 
'Sir Knight! your name and scutcheon, say!'
 
'Should I speak it here,
 
Ye would stand aghast with fear;
 
Am a Prince of mighty¹³ sway!'
 
"When he rode into the lists,
 
The arch of heaven grew black with mists,
 
And the castle 'gan to rock.
 
At the first blow,
 
Fell the youth from saddle-bow,
 
Hardly rises from the shock.
 
"Pipe and viol call the dances,
 
Torch-light through the high halls glances;
 
Waves a mighty shadow in.
 
With manner bland¹⁴
 
Doth ask the maiden¹⁵'s hand,
 
Doth with her the dance begin.
 
"Danced in sable iron sark,
 
Danced a measure weird¹⁶ and dark,
 
Coldly clasped her limbs around.
 
From breast and hair
 
Down fall from her the fair
 
Flowerets wilted¹⁷ to the ground.
 
"To the sumptuous¹⁸ banquet came
 
Every Knight and every Dame¹⁹.
 
'Twixt son and daughter all distraught,
 
With mournful mind
 
The ancient King reclined,
 
Gazed at them in silent thought.
 
"Pale the children both did look,
 
But the guest a beaker took;
 
'Golden wine will make you whole!"
 
The children drank,
 
Gave many a courteous²⁰ thank;
 
'O that draught²¹ was very cool!'
 
"Each the father's breast embraces,
 
Son and daughter; and their faces
 
Colorless grow utterly²².
 
Whichever way
 
Looks the fear-struck father gray,
 
He beholds²³ his children die.
 
" 'Woe²⁴! the blessed children both,
 
Takest thou in the joy of youth;
 
Take me, too, the joyless father!'
 
Spake the Grim Guest,
 
From his hollow, cavernous breast;
 
'Roses in the spring I gather!' "
 
"That is indeed a striking ballad!" said Miss Ashburton, "but rather too grim and ghostly for this dull afternoon."
 
"It begins joyously²⁵ enough with the feast of Pentecost, and the crimson banners at the old castle. Then the contrast is well managed. The Knight in black mail, and the waving in of the mighty shadow in the dance, and the dropping of the faded flowers, are all strikingly presented to the imagination. However, it tellsits own story, and needs no explanation. Here is something in a different vein²⁶, though still melancholy²⁷. The Castle by the Sea. Shall I read it?"
 
"Yes, if you like."
 
Flemming read;
 
"Hast thou seen that lordly castle,
 
That Castle by the Sea?
 
Golden and red above it
 
The clouds float gorgeously.
 
"And fain it would stoop downward
 
To the mirrored wave below;
 
And fain it would soar upward
 
In the evening's crimson glow.
 
" 'Well have I seen that castle,
 
That Castle by the Sea,
 
And the moon above it standing²⁸,
 
And the mist rise solemnly.'
 
"The winds and the waves of ocean,
 
Had they a merry chime?
 
Didst thou hear, from those lofty chambers²⁹,
 
The harp³⁰ and the minstrel's rhyme?
 
" 'The winds and the waves of ocean,
 
They rested quietly,
 
But I heard on the gale³¹ a sound of wail³²,
 
And tears came to my eye.'
 
"And sawest thou on the turrets³³
 
The King and his royal bride?
 
And the wave of their crimson mantles³⁴?
 
And the golden crown of pride?
 
"Led they not forth³⁵ in rapture³⁶
 
A beauteous maiden there?
 
Resplendent as the morning sun,
 
Beaming with golden hair?
 
" 'Well saw I the ancient parents,
 
Without the crown of pride;
 
They were moving slow, in weeds of woe,
 
No maiden was by their side!'
 
How do you like that?"
 
"It is very graceful³⁷, and pretty. But Uhland seems to leave a great deal to his reader's imagination. All his readers should be poets themselves, or they will hardly comprehend him. I confess, Ihardly understand the passage where he speaks of the castle's stooping downward to the mirrored wave below, and then soaring upward into the gleaming sky. I suppose, however, he wishes to express the momentary³⁸ illusion we experience at beholding³⁹ a ............