A very capacious flagon of beer,

And a very portentous loaf of bread.

him.

One would say his grief did not much oppress
Here's to the health of the Prince, God bless him.

[He drinks.]

Ha! it buzzes and stings like a hornet!
And what a scene there, through the door.
The forest behind and the garden before,
And midway an old man of threescore,
With a wife and children that caress him.
Let me try still further to cheer and adorn it
With a merry, echoing blast of my cornet!

[Goes out blowing his horn.]

The Castle of Vautsberg on the Rhine. PRINCE HENRY and ELSIE standing on the terrace at evening. The sound of bells heard from a distance.

Prince Henry. We are alone. The wedding guests
Ride down the hill with plumes and cloaks,

And the descending dark invests

The Niederwald, and all the nests

Among

its hoar and haunted oaks.

Elsie. What bells are those, that ring so slow,
So mellow, musical, and low?

Prince Henry. They are the bells of Geisenheim,
That with their melancholy chime

Ring out the curfew of the sun.

Elsie. Listen, beloved.

Prince Henry.

They are done!

Dear Elsie! many years ago

Those same soft bells at eventide

Rang in the ears of Charlemagne,

As, seated by Fastrada's side

At Ingelheim, in all his pride,

He heard their sound with secret pain.

Elsie. Their voices only speak to me

Of peace and deep tranquillity,

And endless confidence in thee!

Prince Henry. Thou knowest the story of her ring,

How, when the court went back to Aix,

Fastrada died; and how the king

Sat watching by her night and day,

Till into one of the blue lakes,

Which water that delicious land,

They cast the ring, drawn from her hand;

And the great monarch sat serene

And sad beside the fated shore,

Nor left the land for evermore.

"What bells are those, that ring
so slow,
So mellow, musical, and low?

The Golden Ledgend-p. 250

Elsie. That was true love.

Prince Henry.

For him the queen

Ne'er did what thou hast done for me.

Elsie. Wilt thou as fond and faithful be?

Wilt thou so love me after death?

Prince Henry. In life's delight, in death's dismay In storm and sunshine, night and day,

In health, in sickness, in decay,

Here and hereafter, I am thine!

Thou hast Fastrada's ring.

Beneath

The calm, blue waters of thine eyes,
Deep in thy steadfast soul it lies,

And, undisturbed by this world's breath,
With magic light its jewels shine!
This golden ring, which thou hast worn
Upon thy finger since the morn,
Is but a symbol and a semblance,
An outward fashion, a remembrance,
Of what thou wearest within unseen,
O my Fastrada, O my queen!
Behold! the hill-tops all aglow
With purple and with amethyst;
While the whole valley deep below
Is filled, and seems to overflow,
With a fast-rising tide of mist.

The evening air grows damp and chill;
Let us go in.

Ah, not so soon.

Elsie.
See yonder fire! It is the moon
Slow rising o'er the eastern hill.

It glimmers on the forest tips,

And through the dewy foliage drips

In little rivulets of light,

And makes the heart in love with night.

Prince Henry. Oft on this terrace, when the day

Was closing, have I stood and gazed,

And seen the landscape fade away,

And the white vapours rise and drown
Hamlet and vineyard, tower and town,
While far above the hill-tops blazed.
But then another hand than thine
Was gently held and clasped in mine;
Another head upon my breast
Was laid, as thine is now, at rest.
Why dost thou lift those tender eyes
With so much sorrow and surprise?
A minstrel's, not a maiden's hand,
Was that which in my own was pressed.
A manly form usurped thy place,
A beautiful, but bearded face,

That now is in the Holy Land,
Yet in my memory from afar
Is shining on us like a star.
But linger not. For, while I speak,
A sheeted spectre white and tall,
The cold mist climbs the castle wall,
And lays his hand upon thy cheek.
[They go in.]

EPILOGUE.

THE TWO RECORDING ANGELS ASCENDING.

The Angel of Good Deeds (with closed book).
GOD sent his messenger the rain,
And said unto the mountain brook,
"Rise up, and from thy caverns look
And leap, with naked, snow-white feet,
From the cool hills into the heat
Of the broad, arid plain."

God sent his messenger of faith,

And whispered in the maiden's heart,

"Rise up, and look from where thou art,
And scatter with unselfish hands
Thy freshness on the barren sands
And solitudes of Death."

O beauty of holiness,

Of self-forgetfulness, of lowliness!

O power of meekness,

Whose very gentleness and weakness

Are like the yielding, but irresistible air!

Upon the pages

Of the sealed volume that I bear,