But when they rose from this breathing of the heart, the white stranger had disappeared. On the spot where she had kneeled, a little spring, of silver brightness, was gushing out from the green turf, and it kept swelling and flowing onward with a low murmur, till it almost encircled the mound of the knight's grave; it then continued its course, and emptied itself into a calm lake, which lay by the side of the consecrated ground. Even to this day, the inhabitants of the village point out the spring;-and they cannot but cherish the belief, that it is the poor deserted Undine, who in this manner still fondly encircles her beloved in her arms.

END OF UNDINE.

SINTRAM AND HIS COMPANIONS.

A NORTHERN TALE.

FROM THE GERMAN OF THE

BARON DE LA MOTTE FOUQUÉ.

[Republished from Burns' London Edition.]

NOTICE OF SINTRAM.

FROM THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE TO HIS SELECTED WORKS.

"FOLKO of Montfauçon was and is peculiarly endeared to my heart as a true type of that old French chivalric glory which now only emerges in individual appearances, for instance, beautifully, in the Vendéan wars, which, though failing in victory, were rich in honors. With these feelings, the poet could not forbear from arraying him in the colours of his own escutcheon, and assigning to him the emblems of the same, and even in some measure denoting him by his own ancestral name; for Foulqué we were called in old times, which was probably derived, according to our Norman descent, from the Northlandish name Folko, or Fulko; and a castle Montfauçon' was among our ancient possessions. But here that only properly concerns the noble pair, Folko and Gabrielle, as interwoven in the tale of Sintram.' The tale itself is the offspring of my own fantasy, immediately suggested by Albrecht Durer's admirable wood cut of The Knight, Death and Satan,' the birth-day gift of a former friend, with the happy proposal that I should frame from it a romance or a ballad. It became more than this; and the present tale shows it to be so, being supported by divers traditions, in part derived to me orally, of the Germanic northern customs in war and festivity, and in many other relationships beside. The legend indicated at the conclusion of the information respecting Sintram, of the terrific stories of the north, transformed into southern splendour and mirthful dreams, would really then have been executed, and arose more clearly from the fantastic tones of a congenial harpsichord-player, who accidentally met the poet. Partly, however, other avocations, partly interruptions from without, have hitherto driven the project into the back ground. But it still lives within me; and now again, from, the powerful, and yet child-like harmonies of the Northman Ole Bull,