Chapter 5

Then he seeks his bed of rushes, Stilled all grief and pain, Slumbering calm, till morning's blushes Waken life again. Days and years fleet on, yet never Breathes he plaint or sighs, On her casement gazing ever Till it open flies.

Till the loved one, soft advancing, Shows her gentle face, O'er the vale her sweet eyes glancing, Full of angel-grace. But at length, the morn returning Finds him dead and chill;-- Pale and wan, his gaze, with yearning, Seeks her casement still.

THE FIGHT WITH THE DRAGON.

Why run the crowd? What means the throng That rushes fast the streets along? Can Rhodes a prey to flames, then, be? In crowds they gather hastily, And, on his steed, a noble knight Amid the rabble, meets my sight; Behind him--prodigy unknown!-- A monster fierce they're drawing on; A dragon stems it by its shape, With wide and crocodile-like jaw, And on the knight and dragon gape, In turns, the people, filled with awe.

And thousand voices shout with glee "The fiery dragon come and see, Who hind and flock tore limb from limb!-- The hero see, who vanquished him! Full many a one before him went, To dare the fearful combat bent, But none returned home from the fight; Honor ye, then, the noble knight!" And toward the convent move they all, While met in hasty council there The brave knights of the Hospital, St. John the Baptist's Order, were.

Up to the noble master sped The youth, with firm but modest tread; The people followed with wild shout, And stood the landing-place about, While thus outspoke that daring one: "My knightly duty I have done. The dragon that laid waste the land Has fallen beneath my conquering hand. The way is to the wanderer free, The shepherd o'er the plains may rove; Across the mountains joyfully The pilgrim to the shrine may move."

But sternly looked the prince, and said: "The hero's part thou well hast played By courage is the true knight known,-- A dauntless spirit thou hast shown. Yet speak! What duty first should he Regard, who would Christ's champion be, Who wears the emblem of the Cross?"-- And all turned pale at his discourse. Yet he replied, with noble grace, While blushingly he bent him low: "That he deserves so proud a place Obedience best of all can show."

"My son," the master answering spoke, "Thy daring act this duty broke. The conflict that the law forbade Thou hast with impious mind essayed."-- "Lord, judge when all to thee is known," The other spake, in steadfast tone,-- "For I the law's commands and will Purposed with honor to fulfil. I went not out with heedless thought. Hoping the monster dread to find; To conquer in the fight I sought By cunning, and a prudent mind."

"Five of our noble Order, then (Our faith could boast no better men), Had by their daring lost their life, When thou forbadest us the strife. And yet my heart I felt a prey To gloom, and panted for the fray; Ay, even in the stilly night, In vision gasped I in the fight; And when the glimmering morning came, And of fresh troubles knowledge gave, A raging grief consumed my frame, And I resolved the thing to brave."

"And to myself I thus began: 'What is't adorns the youth, the man? What actions of the heroes bold, Of whom in ancient song we're told, Blind heathendom raised up on high To godlike fame and dignity? The world, by deeds known far and wide, From monsters fierce they purified; The lion in the fight they met, And wrestled with the minotaur, Unhappy victims free to set, And were not sparing of their gore.'"

"'Are none but Saracens to feel The prowess of the Christian steel? False idols only shall be brave? His mission is the world to save; To free it, by his sturdy arm, From every hurt, from every harm; Yet wisdom must his courage bend, And cunning must with strength contend.' Thus spake I oft, and went alone The monster's traces to espy; When on my mind a bright light shone,-- 'I have it!' was my joyful cry."

"To thee I went, and thus I spake: 'My homeward journey I would take.' Thou, lord, didst grant my prayer to me,-- Then safely traversed I the sea; And, when I reached my native strand, I caused a skilful artist's hand To make a dragon's image, true To his that now so well I knew. On feet of measure short was placed Its lengthy body's heavy load; A scaly coat of mail embraced The back, on which it fiercely showed."

"Its stretching neck appeared to swell, And, ghastly as a gate of hell, Its fearful jaws were open wide, As if to seize the prey it tried; And in its black mouth, ranged about, Its teeth in prickly rows stood out; Its tongue was like a sharp-edged sword, And lightning from its small eyes poured; A serpent's tail of many a fold Ended its body's monstrous span, And round itself with fierceness rolled, So as to clasp both steed and man."

"I formed the whole to nature true, In skin of gray and hideous hue; Part dragon it appeared, part snake, Engendered in the poisonous lake. And, when the figure was complete, A pair of dogs I chose me, fleet, Of mighty strength, of nimble pace, Inured the savage boar to chase; The dragon, then, I made them bait, Inflaming them to fury dread, With their sharp teeth to seize it straight, And with my voice their motions led."

"And, where the belly's tender skin Allowed the tooth to enter in, I taught them how to seize it there, And, with their fangs, the part to tear. I mounted, then, my Arab steed, The offspring of a noble breed; My hand a dart on high held forth, And, when I had inflamed his wrath, I stuck my sharp spurs in his side, And urged him on as quick as thought, And hurled my dart in circles wide As if to pierce the beast I sought."

"And though my steed reared high in pain, And champed and foamed beneath the rein, And though the dogs howled fearfully, Till they were calmed ne'er rested I. This plan I ceaselessly pursued, Till thrice the moon had been renewed; And when they had been duly taught, In swift ships here I had them brought; And since my foot these shores has pressed Flown has three mornings' narrow span; I scarce allowed my limbs to rest Ere I the mighty task began."

"For hotly was my bosom stirred When of the land's fresh grief I heard; Shepherds of late had been his prey, When in the marsh they went astray. I formed my plans then hastily,-- My heart was all that counselled me. My squires instructing to proceed, I sprang upon my well-trained steed, And, followed by my noble pair Of dogs, by secret pathways rode, Where not an eye could witness bear, To find the monster's fell abode."

"Thou, lord, must know the chapel well, Pitched on a rocky pinnacle, That overlooks the distant isle; A daring mind 'twas raised the pile. Though humble, mean, and small it shows Its walls a miracle enclose,-- The Virgin and her infant Son, Vowed by the three kings of Cologne. By three times thirty steps is led The pilgrim to the giddy height; Yet, when he gains it with bold tread, He's quickened by his Saviour's sight."

"Deep in the rock to which it clings, A cavern dark its arms outflings, Moist with the neighboring moorland's dew, Where heaven's bright rays can ne'er pierce through. There dwelt the monster, there he lay, His spoil awaiting, night and day; Like the hell-dragon, thus he kept Watch near the shrine, and never slept; And if a hapless pilgrim chanced To enter on that fatal way, From out his ambush quick advanced The foe, and seized him as his prey."

"I mounted now the rocky height; Ere I commenced the fearful fight, There knelt I to the infant Lord, And pardon for my sins implored. Then in the holy fane I placed My shining armor round my waist, My right hand grasped my javelin, The fight then went I to begin; Instructions gave my squires among, Commanding them to tarry there; Then on my steed I nimbly sprung, And gave my spirit to God's care."

"Soon as I reached the level plain, My dogs found out the scent amain; My frightened horse soon reared on high,-- His fear I could not pacify, For, coiled up in a circle, lo! There lay the fierce and hideous foe, Sunning himself upon the ground. Straight at him rushed each nimble hound; Yet thence they turned, dismayed and fast, When he his gaping jaws op'd wide, Vomited forth his poisonous blast, And like the howling jackal cried."

"But soon their courage I restored; They seized with rage the foe abhorred, While I against the beast's loins threw My spear with sturdy arm and true: But, powerless as a bulrush frail, It bounded from his coat of mail; And ere I could repeat the throw, My horse reeled wildly to and fro Before his basilisk-like look, And at his poison-teeming breath,-- Sprang backward, and with terror shook, While I seemed doomed to certain death."

"Then from my steed I nimbly sprung, My sharp-edged sword with vigor swung; Yet all in vain my strokes I plied,-- I could not pierce his rock-like hide. His tail with fury lashing round, Sudden he bore me to the ground. His jaws then opening fearfully, With angry teeth he struck at me; But now my dogs, with wrath new-born, Rushed on his belly with fierce bite, So that, by dreadful anguish torn, He howling stood before my sight."

"And ere he from their teeth was free, I raised myself up hastily, The weak place of the foe explored, And in his entrails plunged my sword, Sinking it even to the hilt; Black gushing forth, his blood was spilt. Down sank he, burying in his fall Me with his body's giant ball, So that my senses quickly fled; And when I woke with strength renewed, The dragon in his blood lay dead, While round me grouped my squires all stood."

The joyous shouts, so long suppressed, Now burst from every hearer's breast, Soon as the knight these words had spoken; And ten times 'gainst the high vault broken, The sound of mingled voices rang, Re-echoing back with hollow clang. The Order's sons demand, in haste, That with a crown his brow be graced, And gratefully in triumph now The mob the youth would bear along When, lo! the master knit his brow, And called for silence 'mongst the throng.

And said, "The dragon that this land Laid waste, thou slew'st with daring hand; Although the people's idol thou, The Order's foe I deem thee now. Thy breast has to a fiend more base Than e'en this dragon given place. The serpent that the heart most stings, And hatred and destruction brings, That spirit is, which stubborn lies, And impiously cast off the rein, Despising order's sacred ties; 'Tis that destroys the world amain."

"The Mameluke makes of courage boast, Obedience decks the Christian most; For where our great and blessed Lord As a mere servant walked abroad, The fathers, on that holy ground, This famous Order chose to found, That arduous duty to fulfil To overcome one's own self-will! 'Twas idle glory moved thee there: So take thee hence from out my sight! For who the Lord's yoke cannot bear, To wear his cross can have no right."

A furious shout now raise the crowd, The place is filled with outcries loud; The brethren all for pardon cry; The youth in silence droops his eye-- Mutely his garment from him throws, Kisses the master's hand, and--goes. But he pursues him with his gaze, Recalls him lovingly, and says: "Let me embrace thee now, my son! The harder fight is gained by thee. Take, then, this cross--the guerdon won By self-subdued humility."

FEMALE JUDGMENT.

Man frames his judgment on reason; but woman on love founds her verdict; If her judgment loves not, woman already has judged.

FRIDOLIN; OR, THE WALK TO THE IRON FOUNDRY.

A gentle was Fridolin, And he his mistress dear, Savern's fair Countess, honored in All truth and godly fear. She was so meek, and, ah! so good! Yet each wish of her wayward mood, He would have studied to fulfil, To please his God, with earnest will.

From the first hour when daylight shone Till rang the vesper-chime, He lived but for her will alone, And deemed e'en that scarce time. And if she said, "Less anxious be!" His eye then glistened tearfully. Thinking that he in duty failed, And so before no toil he quailed.

And so, before her serving train, The Countess loved to raise him; While her fair mouth, in endless strain, Was ever wont to praise him. She never held him as her slave, Her heart a child's rights to him gave; Her clear eye hung in fond delight Upon his well-formed features bright.

Soon in the huntsman Robert's breast Was poisonous anger fired; His black soul, long by lust possessed, With malice was inspired; He sought the Count, whom, quick in deed, A traitor might with ease mislead, As once from hunting home they rode, And in his heart suspicion sowed.

"Happy art thou, great Count, in truth," Thus cunningly he spoke; "For ne'er mistrust's envenomed tooth Thy golden slumbers broke; A noble wife thy love rewards, And modesty her person guards. The tempter will be able ne'er Her true fidelity to snare."

A gloomy scowl the Count's eye filled: "What's this thou say'st to me? Shall I on woman's virtue build, Inconstant as the sea? The flatterer's mouth with ease may lure; My trust is placed on ground more sure. No one, methinks, dare ever burn To tempt the wife of Count Savern."

The other spoke: "Thou sayest it well, The fool deserves thy scorn Who ventures on such thoughts to dwell, A mere retainer born,-- Who to the lady he obeys Fears not his wishes' lust to raise."-- "What!" tremblingly the Count began, "Dost speak, then, of a living man?"--

"Is, then, the thing, to all revealed, Hid from my master's view? Yet, since with care from thee concealed, I'd fain conceal it too"-- "Speak quickly, villain! speak or die!" Exclaimed the other fearfully. "Who dares to look on Cunigond?" "'Tis the fair page that is so fond."

"He's not ill-shaped in form, I wot," He craftily went on; The Count meanwhile felt cold and hot, By turns in every bone. "Is't possible thou seest not, sir, How he has eyes for none but her? At table ne'er attends to thee, But sighs behind her ceaselessly?"

"Behold the rhymes that from him came His passion to confess"-- "Confess!"--"And for an answering flame,-- The impious knave!--to press. My gracious lady, soft and meek, Through pity, doubtless, feared to speak; That it has 'scaped me, sore I rue; What, lord, canst thou to help it do?"

Into the neighboring wood then rode The Count, inflamed with wrath, Where, in his iron foundry, glowed The ore, and bubbled forth. The workmen here, with busy hand, The fire both late and early fanned. The sparks fly out, the bellows ply, As if the rock to liquefy.

The fire and water's might twofold Are here united found; The mill-wheel, by the flood seized hold, Is whirling round and round; The works are clattering night and day, With measured stroke the hammers play, And, yielding to the mighty blows, The very iron plastic grows.

Then to two workmen beckons he, And speaks thus in his ire; "The first who's hither sent by me Thus of ye to inquire 'Have ye obeyed my lord's word well?' Him cast ye into yonder hell, That into ashes he may fly, And ne'er again torment mine eye!"

The inhuman pair were overjoyed, With devilish glee possessed For as the iron, feeling void, Their heart was in their breast, And brisker with the bellows' blast, The foundry's womb now heat they fast, And with a murderous mind prepare To offer up the victim there.

Then Robert to his comrade spake, With false hypocrisy: "Up, comrade, up! no tarrying make! Our lord has need of thee." The lord to Fridolin then said: "The pathway toward the foundry tread, And of the workmen there inquire, If they have done their lord's desire."

The other answered, "Be it so!" But o'er him came this thought, When he was all-prepared to go, "Will she command me aught?" So to the Countess straight he went: "I'm to the iron-foundry sent; Then say, can I do aught for thee? For thou 'tis who commandest me."

To this the Lady of Savern Replied in gentle tone: "To hear the holy mass I yearn, For sick now lies my son; So go, my child, and when thou'rt there, Utter for me a humble prayer, And of thy sins think ruefully, That grace may also fall on me."

And in this welcome duty glad, He quickly left the place; But ere the village bounds he had Attained with rapid pace, The sound of bells struck on his ear, From the high belfry ringing clear, And every sinner, mercy-sent, Inviting to the sacrament.

"Never from praising God refrain Where'er by thee He's found!" He spoke, and stepped into the fane, But there he heard no sound; For 'twas the harvest time, and now Glowed in the fields the reaper's brow; No choristers were gathered there, The duties of the mass to share.

The matter paused he not to weigh, But took the sexton's part; "That thing," he said, "makes no delay Which heavenward guides the heart." Upon the priest, with helping hand, He placed the stole and sacred band, The vessels he prepared beside, That for the mass were sanctified.

And when his duties here were o'er, Holding the mass-book, he, Ministering to the priest, before The altar bowed his knee, And knelt him left, and knelt him right, While not a look escaped his sight, And when the holy Sanctus came, The bell thrice rang he at the name.

And when the priest, bowed humbly too, In hand uplifted high, Facing the altar, showed to view The present Deity, The sacristan proclaimed it well, Sounding the clearly-tinkling bell, While all knelt down, and beat the breast, And with a cross the Host confessed.

The rites thus served he, leaving none, With quick and ready wit; Each thing that in God's house is done, He also practised it. Unweariedly he labored thus, Till the Vobiscum Dominus, When toward the people turned the priest, Blessed them,--and so the service ceased.

Then he disposed each thing again, In fair and due array; First purified the holy fane, And then he went his way, And gladly, with a mind at rest, On to the iron-foundry pressed, Saying the while, complete to be, Twelve paternosters silently.

And when he saw the furnace smoke, And saw the workmen stand, "Have ye, ye fellows," thus he spoke, "Obeyed the Count's command?" Grinning they ope the orifice, And point into the fell abyss: "He's cared for--all is at an end! The Count his servants will commend."

The answer to his lord he brought, Returning hastily, Who, when his form his notice caught, Could scarcely trust his eye: "Unhappy one! whence comest thou?"-- "Back from the foundry"--"Strange, I vow! Hast in thy journey, then, delayed?"-- "'Twas only, lord, till I had prayed."

"For when I from thy presence went (Oh pardon me!) to-day, As duty bid, my steps I bent To her whom I obey. She told me, lord, the mass to hear, I gladly to her wish gave ear, And told four rosaries at the shrine, For her salvation and for thine."

In wonder deep the Count now fell, And, shuddering, thus spake he: "And, at the foundry, quickly tell, What answer gave they thee?" "Obscure the words they answered in,-- Showing the furnace with a grin: 'He's cared for--all is at an end! The Count his servants will commend.'"

"And Robert?" interrupted he, While deadly pale he stood,-- "Did he not, then, fall in with thee? I sent him to the wood."-- "Lord, neither in the wood nor field Was trace of Robert's foot revealed."-- "Then," cried the Count, with awe-struck mien, "Great God in heaven his judge hath been!"

With kindness he before ne'er proved, He led him by the hand Up to the Countess,--deeply moved,-- Who naught could understand. "This child, let him be dear to thee, No angel is so pure as he! Though we may have been counselled ill, God and His hosts watch o'er him still."

THE GENIUS WITH THE INVERTED TORCH.

Lovely he looks, 'tis true, with the light of his torch now extinguished; But remember that death is not aesthetic, my friends!

THE COUNT OF HAPSBURG. [38]

A BALLAD.

At Aix-la-Chapelle, in imperial array, In its halls renowned in old story, At the coronation banquet so gay King Rudolf was sitting in glory. The meats were served up by the Palsgrave of Rhine, The Bohemian poured out the bright sparkling wine, And all the Electors, the seven, Stood waiting around the world-governing one, As the chorus of stars encircle the sun, That honor might duly be given.

And the people the lofty balcony round In a throng exulting were filling; While loudly were blending the trumpets' glad sound, The multitude's voices so thrilling; For the monarchless period, with horror rife, Has ended now, after long baneful strife, And the earth had a lord to possess her. No longer ruled blindly the iron-bound spear, And the weak and the peaceful no longer need fear Being crushed by the cruel oppressor.

And the emperor speaks with a smile in his eye, While the golden goblet he seizes: "With this banquet in glory none other can vie, And my regal heart well it pleases; Yet the minstrel, the bringer of joy, is not here, Whose melodious strains to my heart are so dear, And whose words heavenly wisdom inspire; Since the days of my youth it hath been my delight, And that which I ever have loved as a knight, As a monarch I also require."

And behold! 'mongst the princes who stand round the throne Steps the bard, in his robe long and streaming, While, bleached by the years that have over him flown, His silver locks brightly are gleaming; "Sweet harmony sleeps in the golden strings, The minstrel of true love reward ever sings, And adores what to virtue has tended-- What the bosom may wish, what the senses hold dear; But say, what is worthy the emperor's ear At this, of all feasts the most splendid?"

"No restraint would I place on the minstrel's own choice," Speaks the monarch, a smile on each feature; "He obeys the swift hour's imperious voice, Of a far greater lord is the creature. For, as through the air the storm-wind on-speeds,-- One knows not from whence its wild roaring proceeds-- As the spring from hid sources up-leaping, So the lay of the bard from the inner heart breaks While the might of sensations unknown it awakes, That within us were wondrously sleeping."