_Phila. Minerva_, II, Apr. 23, 1796, Phila.
[C. F. Gellert, _Die Nachtigall and die Lerche_.
Free translation of the first stanza; the second, containing the application of the fable, omitted.]
A FABLE Imitated from the German of Gellert.
Clarine loved her husband with sincere affection--for he was a husband to her mind. Their desires and aversions were the same. It was Clarine's study to be agreeable, and by unwearied attention, to anticipate her husband's wishes. "Such a wife," says my male reader, who has thoughts of matrimony, "such a wife would I desire."--And such a wife mayst thou obtain.--Clarine's husband fell sick--a dangerous illness.--"No hope" said the physician, and shook his awful whig. Bitterly wept Clarine. "O death!" she cried, "O death! might I prefer a petition? Spare my husband; let me be the victim in his stead." Death heard, appeared, and "What," said the grim spectre, "is thy request?" "There," said Clarine sore dismayed, "There he lies; overcome with agony he implores thy speedy relief."
_The Nightingale_, I-199, June 16, 1796, Boston.
[C. F. Gellert, _Die zärtliche Frau_. The introductory stanza not translated.]
THE LASS OF FAIR WONE. From the German of Bürger.
_Phila. Minerva_, II, Dec. 17, 1796, Phila.
[G. A. Bürger, _Des Pfarrers Tochter von Taubenhain_.
W. Taylor of Norwich, _The Lass of Fair Wone_ in the _Monthly Magazine_, I-223, Apr. 1796, London. Also in Taylor's _Historic Survey of German Poetry_, 3 vols., 1830, London. II-32, under the title _The Parson's Daughter_.]
VIRTUE REWARDED: A PASTORAL TALE. (From the German of Gesner).
_Phila. Minerva_, II, Dec. 17, 1796, Phila.
[S. Gessner, _Daphne_. W. Hooper, _New Idylles by Gessner_, p. 33, _Glicera_.]
Once more could I wish, ere yet my blest spirit Sunk in Elysium, peaceful mansion of shades! That spot t' revisit, where Infancy In dreams aerial, play'd 'round my brows.
The shrub of my country, whose branches o'erspread The cool nest of the patridge, waves gentler my friend, Than all the gay forests of laurel O'er the dust of the world's mighty conq'rors.
The streamlet of that mead, where in childhood I cull'd early violets, more musically murmurs 'Midst the alders once rear'd by my sire, Than the silver Blandusian fountain.