The following pieces may so far be considered a series, as each is intended to be commemorative of some national recollection, popular custom, or tradition. The idea was suggested by Herder's "Stimmen der Völker in Liedern;" the execution is however different, as the poems in his collection are chiefly translations. Most of those forming the present one have appeared, as well as the miscellaneous pieces attached to them, in the New Monthly Magazine. MOORISH BRIDAL SONG. It is a custom among the Moors, that a female who dies unmarried is clothed for interment in wedding apparel, and the bridal song is sung over her remains before they are borne from her home. See the Narrative of a Ten Years' Residence in THE citron groves their fruit and flowers were strewing Of low sweet summer-winds, the branches wooing, Through the leaves gleaming, and the fountain-falls. A song of joy, a bridal song came swelling, To blend with fragrance in those southern shades, Bright lamps, and dancing steps, and gem-crown'd maids; Belong'd to sadness, as it died away. "The bride comes forth! her tears no more are falling To leave the chamber of her infant years; Kind voices from a distant home are calling; She comes like day-spring-she hath done with tears; Her soft smile gladden other hearts than ours! Pour the rich odours round! "We haste! the chosen and the lovely bringing; Her sisters weep-but she hath done with tears! --Now may the trimbrel sound!" Know'st thou for whom they sang the bridal numbers? 32 LAYS OF MANY LANDS. THE BIRD'S RELEASE. The Indians of Bengal and of the Coast of Malabar bring cages filled with birds to the graves of their friends, over which they set the birds at liberty. This custom is alluded to in the description of Virginia's funeral. See Paul and Virginia. Go forth, for she is gone! With the golden light of her wavy hair, Her voice hath pass'd away! It hath pass'd away like a summer breeze, Go forth, and like her be free! Is it aught ev'n to her we mourn? Doth she look on the tears by her kindred shed? We know not-but she is gone! Her step from the dance, her voice from the song, When the waves at sunset shine, We may hear thy voice, amidst thousands more, Ev'n so with the lov'd one flown! Go forth, we have loos'd thy chain ! We may deck thy cage with the richest flowers, Ev'n thus may the summer pour All fragrant things on the land's green breast, THE SWORD OF THE TOMB. A NORTHERN LEGEND. The idea of this ballad is taken from a scene in " Starkother," a tragedy by the Danish poet Ochlenschlager. The sepulchral fire here alluded to, and supposed to guard the ashes of deceased heroes, is frequently mentioned in the Northern Sagas. Severe sufferings to the departed spirit were supposed by the Scandinavian mythologists to be the consequence of any profanation of the sepulchre. See Ochlenschlager's Plays. "VOICE of the gifted elder time! Voice of the charm and the Runic rhyme ! "Voice of the grave! 'tis the mighty hour, Then the torrents of the North, From the dark sepulchral hill. "There shines no sun 'midst the hidden dead, |