leads from Gadebusch to Schwerin: the enemy were more numerous than had been expected, but fled, after a short resistance, over a narrow plain into a neighbouring thicket. Among those who were most active in the pursuit was Körner, and there he met that glorious death which he had often anticipated in his poems with so much animation. The Sharp-shooters, who had formed an ambush in the under-wood, poured from thence a heavy shower of balls upon the Cavalry who were in pursuit. One of these, after passing through his horse's neck, hit Körner in the belly, traversed his liver and spine, and deprived him, at once, 'of speech and consciousness. He fell, and his companions in arms carefully raised him from the ground: his features remained unaltered, and exhibited no traces of any painful sensation. Nothing was omitted which could possibly have tended to restore him; but all was in vain.

He was buried at the village of Wöbbelin, in Mecklenburgh, under a beautiful oak, in a recess of which he had frequently deposited verses, composed by him while campaigning in its vicinity. The monument, erected to his memory beneath this tree, is of cast-iron, and the upper part is wrought into a Sword and Lyre, a

favourite emblem of Körner's, from which one of his works had been entitled. Near the grave of the Poet is that of his only sister, who died of grief for his loss, having only survived him long enough to complete his portrait, and a drawing of his burial-place. Over the gate of the cemetery is engraved one of his own lines: "Vergiss die treuen Todten nicht;"-Forget not the faithful dead.

THE GRAVE OF KÖRNER. (By Mrs. Hemans.) "Green wave the Oak for ever o'er thy rest!

Thou that beneath its crowning foliage sleepest,
And, in the stillness of thy Country's breast,
Thy place of memory, as an altar, keepest!
Brightly thy spirit o'er her hills was pour'd,
Thou of the Lyre and Sword!

Rest, Bard! rest, Soldier!-By the father's hand,
Here shall the child of after-years be led,
With his wreath-offering silently to stand
In the hush'd presence of the glorious dead.
Soldier and Bard!--For thou thy path hast trod
With Freedom and with God! *

*The Poems of Körner, which were chiefly devoted to the cause of his country, are strikingly distinguished by religious feeling, and a confidence in the Supreme Justice, for the final deliverance of Germany.

The Oak wav'd proudly o'er thy burial-rite;

On thy crown'd bier to slumber, warriors bore thee, And with true hearts thy brethren of the fight

Wept as they vail'd their drooping banners o'er thee; And the deep guns with rolling peals gave token, That Lyre and Sword were broken!

Thou hast a hero's tomb!-A lowlier bed
Is hers, the gentle girl, beside thee lying,
The gentle girl, that bow'd her fair young head,
When thou wert gone, in silent sorrow dying.
Brother! true friend! the tender and the brave!
She pin'd to share thy grave.

Fame was thy gift from others--but for her
To whom the wide earth held that only spot-
-She lov'd thee! lovely in your lives ye were,
And in your early deaths divided not!
Thou hast thine Oak-thy trophy—what hath she?
Her own blest place-by thee.

It was thy spirit, Brother! which had made
The bright world glorious to her thoughtful eye,
Since first, in childhood, 'midst the vines ye play'd,
And sent glad singing through the free blue sky!
Ye were but two!-and when that spirit pass'd,

Woe for the one, the last!

Woe, yet not long!-She linger'd but to trace
Thine image from the image in her breast;

Once, once again to see that buried face

But smile upon her ere she went to rest!
Too sad a smile!-its living light was o'er,
It answer'd hers no more!

The Earth grew silent when thy voice departed,
The Home too lonely whence thy step had filed;
What then was left for her, the faithful-hearted?
Death, death, to still the yearning for the dead!
Softly she perish'd-be the Flow'r deplor'd,

Here, with the Lyre and Sword!

Have ye not met ere now?-So let those trust,
That meet for moments but to part for years,
That weep, watch, pray, to hold back dust from dust,
That love, where love is but a fount of tears!
Brother! sweet Sister!-peace around ye dwell!

Lyre, Sword, and Flower, farewell!"

POEMS OF MADAME DE SURVILLE.

IN 1804, a small volume was published at Paris, with the following title: "Poësies de Marguerite-Eleonore Clotilde de Vallon-Chalys, depuis Madame de Surville, poëte Français du XV. siècle, publiées par Ch. Vanderbourg." In the preface to this little work there is some account given of the way in which these poems were discovered, and also of the author of them.

In the year 1782, a M. de Surville, a de

scendant of this poetess, in searching among the neglected archives of his family, discovered some MS. poems, the beauty and excellence of which excited his astonishment and admiration. He applied himself diligently to the study of decyphering the hand-writing, and, with considerable trouble, he succeeded in transcribing the greater part of the MSS. M. de Surville was driven from France by the Revolution, and the originals of the poems were unfortunately consumed by fire. M. de Surville did not live to present to the public the monuments of his ancestor's genius, which had been preserved in his transcription; but in a letter to his wife, written shortly before his execution in the revolutionary tumults of the 7th year of the Republic, he says, "I beseech you to communicate these poems to some one who is capable of appreciating them. Do not suffer the fruit of my researches to be lost to posterity, especially for the honour of my family, of which my brother is now the sole representative."

Of the existence even of M. de Surville, we know not whether we ought to doubt, though an accurate memoir is given of him, and an anecdote related of a duel between him and the