Chapter 9

On the jutting turret standing. Faithful Anton heard this wauling, And involuntarily looking Toward that way: "Good heaven!" said he, "In the garden is the enemy." Quick his signal-shot brought other Men-at-arms, along with Werner, Who placed quickly his few fighters: "Stand thou here--thou there--don't hurry With your fire!" His heart beat wildly: "Ha, my sword, maintain thy valour!" Shallow was the castle's moat then, Well-nigh dry, and 'mid the rushes Glisten many swords and spear-heads. Daring men are climbing upward O'er the tower's crumbling stone-work. Muskets cracking, arrows flying. Axe-strokes 'gainst the gate are ringing, Everywhere attack, and shouting: "Castle thou wilt soon be taken!" And between, the fall of bodies In the moat is heard--much blood flows. By the gate cries out young Werner: "Well done, Anton! Now take aim at That dark fellow on thy left hand; I'll attend unto the other. Steady now! They are retreating!"

Thus the first attack proved fruitless, And with bloody heads drew back now The assaulters, seeking shelter, 'Midst the chestnut-trees' dense thicket. Scornful words now reach the castle: "Coward knights, faint-hearted servants, Keep behind the walls, protected. Just come out to honest combat If you've courage." "Death and Devil!" Werner shouted. "Let the bridge down! Spears at rest! Now onward!--Mock us? In the Rhine with these damned scoundrels!"

Down the bridge fell rattling loudly; Far ahead went Werner rushing, Right into the crowd; ran over Just the fellow who did guide them. "When the sword gets dull, thou rascal, With my fist alone I'll kill thee." In the crowd he sees a sturdy Soldier, with a weather-beaten Face, bold and defiant-looking. He had served with Wallenstein once, And now fought for these mean peasants From mere love of strife and bloodshed. "Taste my steel now, gray old warrior," Cried young Werner, as his sword swung Whizzing through the air to strike him. But the soldier's halberd parried Werner's stroke: "Not badly done, lad! Here my answer!" Blood was dripping From young Werner's locks; his forehead Showed a deep wound from the halberd. But the one who swung it, never Gave a second stroke; his own throat, Where by armour not protected, Being cut by Werner's weapon. Three steps backward then he staggered Sinking: "Devil, stir thy fire! Hast me now!" Dead lay the soldier.

Werner, thy young life guard well now! Raging were the peasants, thronging In great crowds around this handful. 'Gainst a chestnut-tree now leaning Weak, but still his life defending, Stood young Werner; round him rallied, Brave and faithful, all the servants. Save him, God! The wound is bleeding, From his hand the sword falls slowly, Dimmed his eyes are, and the enemy At his gory breast is aiming. Then--all may go well yet-- From the castle rings distinctly, As if for a charge, the trumpet; Then a shot--one falls; a volley Follows. "Onward!" so the Baron Now commands, and wildly flying Tear the peasants to the Rhine. Cheer up, Werner, friends are coming, And with them comes Margaretta! When the fight below was raging, To the terrace she ascended, And she blew--herself not knowing Why she did it--in the anguish Of her soul, the battle signal Used in the Imperial army. Which she'd learned in happy moments In the honeysuckle-arbour. It was heard by those returning With the Baron from the town-gate; And the maiden's war-cry made them Hurry quickly to the rescue Of those fighting in the garden. Woman's heart, so gentle, timid, What gave thee such courage then?

"God, he lives!" she bent now softly Over him who 'neath the chestnuts There on the green sward was lying, Stroked the fair locks, lank and bloody, From his brow: "Hast fought right bravely!" Half unconscious gazed young Werner; Did he then behold a vision? Closed his eyes, and on two muskets To the castle he was borne.

TWELFTH PART.

YOUNG WERNER AND MARGARETTA.

In the castle's chapel dimly Was a flickering lamp-light burning, Shining on the altar-picture, Whence the Queen of Heaven looked down With a gracious pitying smile, 'Neath the picture hung fresh gathered Roses and geranium-garlands. Kneeling there prayed Margaretta: "Sorely tried one, full of mercy! Thou who givest us protection, Care for him who badly wounded Lies now on a bed of anguish; And bestow on me forgiveness If thou thinkst it very sinful That he fills my thoughts alone."

Hope and trust their light were shedding In her heart as thus she prayed. And more cheerful Margaretta Now ascended up the staircase. On the threshold of the sick-room Was the gray old doctor standing, And he beckoned her to come there. Judging what most likely would be The first question she would ask him, He then said with voice half muffled: "Fear no more, my gracious lady; Fresh young blood and youthful vigour From such wounds not long can suffer, And already gentle slumber, Messenger of health, doth soothe him. He to-day can take an airing." Spoke and left; for, his attention Many wounded men were craving, And he hated useless gossip.

Softly entered Margaretta Now the sick-room of young Werner, Bashful and yet curious whether All was true the doctor told her. Gently slumbering lay young Werner, Pale in youthful beauty, looking Like a statue. As if dreaming, He lay holding, o'er his forehead And his healing wound, his right hand, As one who from glaring sunlight Wishes to protect his eyes; Round his lips a smile was playing.

Long on him gazed Margaretta-- Long and longer. Thus in old times In the forest of Mount Ida Gazed the goddess, fair Diana, On Endymion the sleeper. Pity held her eye a captive; Ah, and pity is a fruitful Soil for love's sweet plant to grow in. From a tiny seed 'tis spreading In this ground so rich and fertile, Which it permeates completely With its thousand fibrous rootlets.

Thrice already Margaretta To the door her way had wended, But as many times returning She at last approached the bedside. On the table stood a cooling Potion, medicines in bottles; But she neither touched the cooling Potion nor the other bottles. Timidly she bent there o'er him, Timidly and hardly breathing, Lest her breath might wake the sleeper. Long she gazed at his closed eyelids And involuntarily stooping, With her lips--But who interprets All the strange mysterious actions Of a first sweet loving passion? Well-nigh can my song conjecture That she really wished to kiss him; But she did not; startled sighing, Turned abruptly--like a timid Fawn she hurried from the chamber.

Like a man who, long accustomed To the gloom and damp of dungeons, Seems bewildered when beholding, For the first time free fair Nature: "Hast thou not, O sun, grown brighter? Has the sky not deeper colours?" And his eyes are nearly dazzled By the light so long denied him: Thus returns the convalescent Once again to life and vigour. Fresher, warmer, rosier visions Rise before his raptured glances, Which he greets with fond rejoicing. "World, how fair thou art!" was also Dropping from the lips of Werner, As on the broad steps he slowly Now descended to the garden. Leaning on his staff, he stood long Quiet, basking in the sunbeams Playing o'er the fragrant flowers, Drew a long breath, and then slowly Stepped upon the garden-terrace. On the stone-seat in the sunshine He sat down now. Bees were humming, Butterflies were lightly flying 'Mid the verdant chestnut-branches, Out and in, like tavern-goers. Green, pellucid, gently rushing, Bore the Rhine its waters onward; And a pine-raft filled with people, Snake-like, swiftly sped toward Basel. Near the shore, up to his knees stood In the river there a fisher, Singing gently to himself thus:

"Peasant comes with spears and muskets, Peasant storms the forest-city, Peasant will now fight with Austria: Peasant! you will find that will Make much heavier the bill; Take your purse and pay the joke! Seven florins seemed too much then, One-and-twenty must thou pay now. Soldiers quartered are dear guests too; Then the plaisters from the surgeons: Peasant! you will find that will Make much heavier the bill; Take your purse and pay the joke!"

Gaily gazed young Werner o'er the Lovely landscape and the river; But he stopped his contemplations. On the wall with sunlight flooded He beheld a shadow gliding, As of curls and flowing garments-- Well did Werner know this shadow. Through the shrubbery came smiling Margaretta; she was watching Hiddigeigei's graceful gambols, Who then in the garden-arbour With a wee white mouse was playing. With his velvet paws he held it Tight, and like a gracious sovereign Looked down on his trembling captive.

From his seat rose up young Werner Bowing lowly and with reverence. Over Margaretta's cheeks spread Ever-changing rosy blushes. "Master Werner, may God bless you, And how are you? You were silent Such a long time, so with pleasure Shall I hear your voice once more."

"Since my forehead made acquaintance Lately with the enemy's halberd, Hardly knew I," answered Werner, "Where my life and thoughts had flown to. O'er me lay thick clouds of darkness; But to-day in dreams an angel To my side descended, saying: Thou art well, arise, be happy That thou hast thy health recovered And it was so. With a firm step Thus far have I come already." Now again fair Margaretta's Cheeks were like the blush of morning. When the dream young Werner mentioned, Bashfully she turned her head; then Playfully she interrupted: "I suppose you are now looking At the battle-field; indeed it Proved a hot day, and I fancy Still I hear the roar of battle: Do you still recall, you stood there By yon tree, and there a dead man Lay beneath those blooming elders? Where the gossamer so lightly Through the air in threads is flying, Spears and halberds then were glittering. There, where still you see the traces Of fresh plaster on the stone-wall, Broke those peasants through when flying. And, my good sir, over yonder Then my father loudly scolded, That a certain person headlong Had into such danger plunged."

"Death and--but forgive, my lady. That well-nigh I swore," said Werner. "They were mocking us; and others, If they please, may keep their temper. When I hear such stinging speeches, Then my heart burns, my fist clenches: Fight! no other means I know of; Fight I must, e'en should the whole world Go to atoms with a crash. Through my veins there flows no fish-blood; And to-day, though somewhat feeble, In the same case, I should stand there By the chestnut-tree again."

"Wicked man," said Margaretta, "That a fresh stroke from a halberd Should be crossing your old scar, and That--but do you know who suffered Keenly for your daring conduct? Do you know whose tears were flowing? Would you once more give the order: Lower drawbridge! if I begged you: Werner stay and do remember The poor suffering Margaretta? If I--," but she was not able Further to spin out her sentence. What the mouth spoke not, the eyes said; What the eyes said not, the heart did. Dreamily young Werner lifted Unto her his raptured gaze: "Am I dying, or is doubly My young life to me now given?" In each other's arms they flew then, Sought each other's lips with ardour, And transported, pressed upon them Love's first kiss, so sweet and blissful. Golden-purple streamed the sunlight Through the shady trees' high summits, Down upon two happy beings-- On young Werner's pallid features, On the lovely blushing maiden.

Love's first kiss so sweet and blissful! Thinking of thee, joy and sorrow Both steal o'er me; joy, that also I have once thy nectar tasted, Sorrow, that but once we taste it! For thy sake I wished to cull from Language, all the fairest flowers, For a wreath unto thine honour; But, instead of words rose visions Clear before me, and they led me Far to float o'er time and space. First I soared to Eden's garden, When the new-born world was lying In its pristine youthful freshness, When its age by days was reckoned. Evening came, a rosy light spread O'er the sky, while in the river's Waves the sun to rest sank slowly; On the shore, in merry frolic, Graceful animals were playing. Through the shady paths 'neath palm-trees The first human couple walked. Wide through space they gazed in silence, 'Mid the holy peace of evening; In each other's eyes they looked then, And their lips did meet. Then I saw before me rising. Visions of quite different aspect; Dark the sky, rain-storm and lightning, Mountains bursting, from the dark depths Foaming waters rushing upward. Flooded over is the ancient Mother Earth, and she is dying. To the cliffs the waves are rolling, To the old man and his consort, To the two last living mortals. Now a flash--I saw them smiling, Then embracing, without speaking, Ever kissing. Night then--roaring, Did the flood engulf these beings. This I saw, and well I know now, That a kiss outweighs all language, Is, though mute, love's song of songs. And when words fail, then the singer Should be silent; therefore silent He returns now to the garden. On the stone steps of the terrace Lay the worthy Hiddigeigei; And with great amazement saw he, How his mistress and young Werner Were each other fondly kissing. Grumbling said he to himself then: "Often have I meditated On great problems hard to settle, Which my cat-heart fully fathomed; But there's one which yet remaineth Quite unsolved, uncomprehended: Why do people kiss each other? Not from hatred, not from hunger, Else they'd bite and eat each other; Neither can it be an aimless Nonsense, for they are in general Wise, and know well what they're doing. Why then is it, I ask vainly, Why do people kiss each other? Why do mostly so the youthful? And why mostly so in Spring-time? Over all these knotty questions, I intend to ponder further, On the gable-roof to-morrow."

Margaretta plucked some roses, Took then Werner's hat, and gaily With the fairest ones adorned it. "Poor pale man, till there are blooming On your own cheeks just such roses, On your hat you'll have to wear them. But now tell me, wherefore is it That I do so dearly love you? Not a word you ere have spoken, That could show me that you loved me. Sometimes only shy and bashful Did you raise at me your glances, And sometimes you played before me. Is it, then, your country's custom, That a woman's love is won there, Without words by trumpet-blowing?"

"Margaretta, sweetest darling," Said young Werner, "could I venture? You appeared to me so saint-like, In your flowing, snow-white garments. At the feast of Fridolinus. 'Twas your glance which made me enter In your noble father's service; And your favour was the sunshine Which my daily life illumined. Ah! there by the mountain-lake once, On my head was placed a garland. 'Twas love's crown of thorns you gave me, And in silence I have worn it. Could I speak, O could the homeless Trumpeter his yearnings utter Boldly to fair Margaretta? Unto you as to an angel, Who is guarding us poor mortals Did I look in silent worship, And I wished in your dear service Here to die beneath the chestnuts. From that fate you have preserved me, Unto life and health restored me, Made my life now doubly precious, As I know your love adorns it. Take me then! Since you did give me That first burning kiss, I only Live through you, belong to you now, Margaretta--ever thine!"

"Thine, yes, thine," said Margaretta; "What stiff barriers are erected By our words! Belong to you now-- What a solemn cold expression. Ever thine! 'tis thus love speaketh. No more you; _thou_, heart to heart pressed, Lips to lips, that is his language; Therefore, Werner, let another Kiss now seal it"--and their lips met. In the sky the moon first shineth, Then by countless stars is followed; So the first kiss, when once given, Is by hosts of others followed. But how many were by stealth robbed And paid duly back with interest, All this doth my song keep secret. Poetry and dry statistics Are, alas, not on good terms. Also Anton came now hurrying Through the garden with a message: "The three ladies from the convent, Who the first of May went with us To the fishing, send their greeting To your gracious ladyship, and Also make most kind inquiries For the health of Master Werner, Who, they trust, will soon amend."

THIRTEENTH PART.

WERNER SUES FOR MARGARETTA.

Night, how long and full of terror! When thou bring'st not to the weary With thy shades refreshing slumber, And sweet dreams to comfort him. Restlessly his thoughts are delving In the past's great heaps of rubbish, Where they rake up many fragments Of his former life, and nowhere Can his eyes abide with pleasure; Only gloomy spectres rise up, Which the sunlight soon would banish. Unrefreshed, next to the future Roves the mind from which sweet sleep flies; Forges plans, takes resolutions, Builds up proud and airy castles; But like owls and bats are flying All around them hosts of doubts which Drive away all hope and courage.

From the tower-clock struck midnight. On his couch was lying sleepless Werner in the turret-chamber; Through the window beaming faintly Fell a narrow ray of moonlight, While beneath the Rhine did rush. And the sleepless brain of Werner Is by dream-like visions haunted. Once it seemed to him like Sunday; Bells are pealing, horses neighing, Toward the Schwarzwald goes a wedding, He walks at the head as bridegroom, By his side is Margaretta; And she wears a wreath of myrtle. In the village loud rejoicings, And the roads and village street are All with flowers overstrewn. In his priestly robes is standing By the church-door the old Pastor Blessing, beckoning him to enter-- But the vision's thread broke off here For a new one: He imagined At the door there was a knocking; And now enters the odd figure Of his dear old friend Perkéo, With his red nose shining brightly In the dimly-lighted chamber; And he speaks with husky voice thus: "Oh, my lad, with love don't meddle! Love's a fire which consumeth Him who kindles it, completely; And thou art no charcoal-burner! Come then home to the clear Neckar, Come with me to my old wine-tun, Which contains good stuff sufficient All thy love-flames to put out."

Next he seems to be transported To an Eastern field of battle. Cries of Allah, sabres whirring; And he soon strikes down a Pashaw From his horse, and brings the crescent To the general, Prince Eugene, Who then claps him on the shoulder: "Well done, my Imperial captain!" From the battle-field his dreaming Flies back to the days of childhood, And his nurse sings in the garden: "Squirrel climbs up on the blackthorn, Squirrel goes up to the tree-top, Squirrel falls into his grave. Had he not so high ascended, Then his fall had been less heavy, Had not broken then his leg."

Thus disturbed by all this dreaming, Werner sprang up of a sudden, With long strides walked through his chamber; And his mind was troubled always By the same portentous question: "Shall I ask the Baron for her?" Love well-nigh appeared to him now Just like stolen fruit; he felt that, Like a thief, before the day broke, He had better leave the castle. But just then the sun was rising, With the beauty of a bridegroom In the blush of early morning. "Be ashamed, my heart, great coward! Yes, I'll ask him," cried young Werner.

At his breakfast sat the Baron Poring deeply o'er a letter Which the day before was brought him By a messenger from Suabia, From the Danube; where through narrow Valleys the young stream is flowing, And steep limestone rocks are rising From the water which reflects them With their verdant crowns of beech-trees; Thence the man had come on horseback. And the letter read as follows: