STEINMAR.

THIS poet belongs to about the middle of the 13th century, and is supposed to have sprung from a family in the Zurich-gau or in the Tyrol. There are

several of his

songs in the Manesse MS.

Ich wil gruenen mit der sat

Dú so wunneklichen stat;

Ich wil mit dien bluomen bluen,
Und mit den vogellin singen;
Ich wil louben so der walt,

Sam dú heide sin gestalt;

Ich wil mih niht lassen muen

Mit allen bluomen springen;

Ich wil ze liebe miner lieben frouwen

Mit des vil suessen meien touwe touwen, &c.

With the graceful corn upspringing,
With the birds around me singing,
With the leaf-crown'd forests waving,
Sweet May-dews the herbage laving,
With the flowers that round me bloom,
To my lady dear I'll come :
All things beautiful and bright,
Sweet in sound and fair to sight,
Nothing, nothing is too rare
For my beauteous lady fair;

Every thing I'll do and be,
So my lady solace me.

She is one in whom I find

All things fair and bright combined;
When her beauteous form I see,
Kings themselves might envy me,
Joy with joy is gilded o'er,
Till the heart can hold no more.
She is bright as morning sun,
She my fairest, loveliest one;
For the honour of the fair
I will sing her beauty rare,
Every thing I'll do and be,
So my lady solace me.

Solace me, then, sweetest!-be'
Such in heart as I to thee;
Ope thy beauteous lips of love,
Call me thine, and then above
Merrily, merrily I will sail

With the light clouds on the gale.
Dear one, deign my heart to bless,
Steer me on to happiness,

Thou, in whom my soul confideth,

Thou, whose love my spirit guideth ;
Every thing I'll do and be,
So my lady solace me.

OTHO,

MARGRAVE OF BRANDENBURG.

OTHо was surnamed "mit dem Pfeile," (with the arrow). He flourished in the last half of the 13th century, and died in 1298. Another of his songs is excellently translated in the "Illustrations of Northern Antiquities," p. 8.

Uns kumt aber ein liehter meie

Der machet manig herze fruot, &c.

AGAIN appears the cheerful May,

On many a heart its joy it pours,
A thousand flowers their sweets display,

And what more blooming than the bowers?
Sweet is the various music there,

New clad in leaves the wild woods are,

And many a pensive heart this hour to joy restores.

And all the live-long day I'll strive

For favour in my lady's eyes;

And must I die in gloom, nor live

To win and wear that peerless prize,

Yet am I still consol'd to know

That she the death-wound doth bestow,

That from her rosy lips the fatal sentence flies.

THE CHANCELLOR.

WHO "Der Chanzler' was even by name, is not known. He comes into the age of the "meisters," who were fond of assumed titles. Some say he was Heinrich von Klingenberg, a person in the service of Rodolph of Hapsburg. An ancient ballad of "The twelve old masters," printed by Görres, says Der Kanzler was ein fisher lang

Zu Steiermark in dem lande:

Most

and if he were originally a fisherman, his'occupation would not be lower than that of many who succeeded to what became the trade of making verses. of his pieces are of moral or spiritual tendency; but he is sometimes not an unsuccessful follower of the older and better school of the Minnesingers.

Sumer wunne swer dich schouwen

Welle der kere in die ouwen!

Uf die berge und in diu tal, &c.

WHO Would summer pleasures try
Let him to the meadows hie.

O'er the mountain, in the vale,

Gladsome sounds and sights prevail :
In the fields fresh flowers are springing,

In the boughs new carols singing,

Richly in sweet harmony

There the birds new music ply.
This is all thine own, sweet May!
As thy softer breezes play,

Snow and frost-work melt away.

Old and young come forth! for ye
Winter bound, again are free.
Up! ye shall not grieve again.
Look upon that verdant plain,
Its gloomy robe no more it wears;
How beauteously its face appears!
He who mid the flowers enjoys
The sweetness of his lady's eyes,
Let him cast his cares away,

And give the meed of thanks to May.

From the heart's most deep recess,

Hovering smiles, intent to bless,
Gather on my lady's lips;

Smiles, that other smiles eclipse;

Smiles, more potent, care dispelling,

Than the bank with flowers sweet smelling,
Than the birds' melodious measures,

Than our choicest woodland treasures,
Than the flower-besprinkled plains,
Than the nightingale's sweet strains;
Fairer, sweeter, beauty reigns.