Part 2 (2/2)
In the mean time the court had fallen into the greatest alarm, when, at evening, the princess was missing. The king was entirely beside himself, and sent people in every direction to seek her. No man could explain her absence. No one mistrusted that she was entangled in a love affair, and therefore an elopement was not thought of. Moreover no other person of the court was missing, nor was there any cause for the remotest suspicion. The messengers returned without having accomplished anything, and the king sank into the deepest dejection. It was only at evening, when his minstrels came before him, bringing with them their beautiful songs, that his former pleasure appeared renewed to him; his daughter seemed near him, and he conceived the hope that he should soon behold her again. But when he was again alone, his heart seemed like to break, and he wept aloud. Then he thought within himself; ”of what advantage to me now is all this splendor and my high birth? Without her, even these songs are mere words and delusions. She was the charm that gave them life and joy, power and form. Would rather that I were the lowest of my subjects. Then my daughter would still be with me; perhaps also I should have a son-in-law, and my grandson would sit upon my knees; then indeed I should be another king than I am now. It is not the crown or the kingdom that makes the king; it is the full, overflowing feeling of happiness, the satiety of earthly possessions, the consciousness of perfect satisfaction and content. In this way am I now punished for my pride. The loss of my wife did not sufficiently humble me; but now my misery is boundless.” Thus complained the king in his hours of ardent longing. Yet at times his old austerity and pride broke forth. He was angry with his own complaints; he would endure and be silent as becomes a king. He thought even then that he suffered more than all others, and that royalty was burdened with heavy care; but when it became darker, and stepping into the chamber of his daughter he beheld her clothes hanging there, and her little effects scattered around, as if she had but a moment before left the chamber; then he forgot his resolutions, exhibited all the gestures of sorrow, and called upon his lowest servant for sympathy. All the city and country wept and condoled with him, with their whole hearts. It is worthy of remark, that it was noised abroad that the princess yet lived, and would soon return with a husband. No one knew whence this report arose; but every one clung to it with joyous belief, and awaited her return with impatient expectation. Thus several months pa.s.sed on, until spring again drew nigh. ”What will you wager,” said some of sanguine disposition, ”that the princess will not return also?” Even the king grew more serene and hopeful. The report seemed to him like a promise from some kind power. The accustomed festivals were again renewed, and nought seemed wanting but the princess to fill up the bloom of their former splendor. One evening, exactly a year from the time when she disappeared, the whole court was a.s.sembled in the garden. The air was warm and serene; and no sound was heard but that of the gentle wind in the tops of the old trees, announcing, as it were, the approach of some far off joy. A mighty fountain, arising amid the torches, which with their innumerable lights relieved the duskiness of the sighing tree-tops, accompanied the varied songs with melodious murmurs sounding through the forest. The king sat upon a costly carpet, and the court in festal dress was gathered around him. The mult.i.tude filled the garden, and encircled the splendid scene. The king at this moment was sitting plunged in profound thought. The image of his lost daughter appeared before him with unwonted clearness. He thought of the happy days, which ended with the last year about that time. A burning desire overpowered him, and the tears flowed fast down his venerable cheeks; yet he experienced a hope, as clear as it was unusual. It seemed as if the past year of sorrow were but a heavy dream, and he raised his eyes as if seeking her lofty, holy, captivating form amidst the people and the trees. The minstrel had just ended, and deep silence gave evidence of deep emotion; for the poets had sung of the joys of meeting, of spring, and of the future, as hope is accustomed to adorn them.
The silence was suddenly interrupted by the low sound of an unknown but beautiful voice, which seemed to proceed from an aged oak. All looks were directed towards it, and a young man in simple, but peculiar dress, was seen standing with a lute upon his arm. He continued his song, yet saluted the king, as he turned his eyes towards him, with a profound, bow. His voice was remarkably fine, and the song of a nature strange and wonderful. He sang the origin of the world, the stars, plants, animals, and men, the all-powerful sympathy of nature; the remote age of gold, and its rulers Love and Poesy; the appearance of hatred and barbarism, and their battles with these beneficient G.o.ddesses; and finally, the future triumph of the latter, the end of affliction, the renovation of nature, and the return of an eternal golden age. Even, the old minstrels, wrapped in ecstasy, drew nearer to the singular stranger. A charm, they had never before felt, seized all listeners, and the king was carried away in feeling, as upon a tide from Heaven. Such music had never before been heard. All thought that a heavenly being had appeared among them; and especially so, because the young man appeared, during his song, continually to grow more beautiful and resplendent, and his voice more powerful. The gentle wind played with his golden locks. The lute in his hands seemed inspired, and it was as if his intoxicated gaze pierced into a secret world. The child-like innocence and simplicity of his face appeared to all transcendant. Now the glorious strain was finished. The elder poets pressed the young man to their bosoms with tears of joy. A silent inward exultation shot through the whole a.s.sembly. The king, filled with emotion, approached him. The young man threw himself reverently at his feet. The king raised him up, embraced him, and bade him ask for any gift. Then, with glowing cheeks he prayed the king to listen to another song, and to decide as to his request. The king stepped a few paces back, and the young stranger began:--
Through many a rugged, th.o.r.n.y pa.s.s, With tattered robe, the minstrel wends; He toils through flood and deep mora.s.s, Yet none a helping hand extends.
Now lone and pathless, overflows With bitter plaint his wearied heart; Trembling beneath his lute he goes, And vanquished by a deeper smart.
There is to me a mournful lot, Deserted quite I wander here;-- Delight and peace to all I brought, But yet to share them none are near.
To human life, and everything That mortals have, I lent a bliss; Yet all, with slender offering My heart's becoming claim dismiss.
They calmly let me take my leave, As spring is seen to wander on; And none she gladdens, ever grieve When quite dejected she hath gone.
For fruits they covetously long, Nor wist she sows them in her seed; I make a heaven for them in song, Yet not a prayer enshrines the deed.
With joy I feel that from above Weird spirits to these lips are bann'd, O, that the magic tie of love Were also knitted to my hand!
But none regard the pilgrim lone, Who needy came from distant isles; What heart will pity yet his own, And quench his grief in winning smiles?
The lofty gra.s.s is waving, where He sinks with tearful cheeks to rest; But thither winnowing the air, Song-spirits seek his aching breast; Forgetting now thy former pain, Its burden early cast behind,-- What thou in huts hast sought in vain, Within the palace wilt thou find.
Awaiteth thee a high renown, The troubled course is ending now; The myrtle-wreath becomes a crown, Hands truest place it on thy brow.
A tuneful heart by nature shares The glory that surrounds a throne; Up rugged steps the poet fares, And straight becomes the monarch's son.
So far he had proceeded in his song, and wonder held the a.s.sembly spell-bound; when, during these stanzas, an old man with a veiled female of n.o.ble stature, carrying in her arms a child of wondrous beauty, who playfully eyed the a.s.sembly, and smilingly outstretched its little hands after the diadem of the king, made their appearance and placed themselves behind the minstrel. But the astonishment was increased, when the king's favorite eagle, which was always about his person, flew down from the tops of the trees with a golden headband, which he must have stolen from the king's chamber, and hovered over the head of the young man, so that the band fastened itself around his tresses. The stranger was frightened for a moment; the eagle flew to the side of the king, and left the band behind. The young man now handed it to the child, who reached after it; and sinking upon one knee towards the king, continued his song with agitated voice:--
From fairy dreams the minstrel flies Abroad, impatient and elate; Beneath the lofty trees he hies Toward the stately palace-gate.
Like polished steel the walls oppose, But over swiftly climb his strains; And seized by love's delicious throes, The monarch's child the singer gains.
They melt in pa.s.sionate embrace, But clang of armor bids them flee; Within a nightly refuge place They nurse the new-found ecstasy.
In covert timidly they stay, Affrighted by the monarch's ire; And wake with every dawning day At once to grief and glad desire.
Hope is the minstrel's soft refrain, To quell the youthful mother's tears; When lo, attracted by the strain, The king within the cave appears.
The daughter holds in mute appeal The grandson with his golden hair; Sorrowed and terrified they kneel, And melts his stern resolve to air.
And yieldeth too upon the throne To love and song a Father's breast; With sweet constraint he changes soon To ceaseless joy the deep unrest.
With rich requital love returns The peace it lately would destroy, And mid atoning kisses burns And blossoms an Elysian joy.
Spirit of Song! oh, hither come, And league with love again to bring The exiled daughter to her home, To find a father in the king!
To willing bosom may he press The mother and her pleading one, And yielding all to tenderness, Embrace the minstrel as his son.
The young man, on uttering these words, which softly swelled through the dark paths, raised with trembling hand the veil. The princess, her eyes streaming with tears, fell at the feet of the king, and reached to him the beauteous child. The minstrel knelt with bowed head at her side. An anxious silence seemed to hold the breath of every one suspended. For a few moments the king remained grave and speechless; then he took the princess to his bosom, pressed her to himself with a warm embrace, and wept aloud. He also raised the young man, and embraced him with heart-felt tenderness. Exulting joy flew through the a.s.sembly, which began to crowd eagerly around them. Taking the child, the king raised it towards Heaven with touching devotion; and then kindly greeted the old man. Countless tears of joy were shed. The poets burst forth in song, and the night became a sacred festive eve of promise to the whole land, where life henceforth was but one delightful jubilee. No one can tell whither that land has fled. Tradition only whispers us that mighty floods have s.n.a.t.c.hed Atlantis from our eyes.
CHAPTER IV.
Several days' journey was accomplished without the least interruption.
The road was hard and dry, the weather refres.h.i.+ng and serene, and the countries, through which they pa.s.sed, fertile, inhabited, and continually varied. The fertile Thuringian forest lay behind them. The merchants, who had often travelled by the same road, were acquainted with the people, and experienced everywhere the most hospitable reception. They avoided the retired regions, and such as were infested with robbers, or took a sufficient escort for their protection, when obliged to travel through them. Many proprietors of the neighboring castles were on good terms with the merchants. The latter visited them, seeking orders for Augsburg. Much friendly hospitality was shown them, and the old ladies with their daughters pressed around them with hearty curiosity. Henry's mother immediately won their affection by her good-natured complaisance and sympathy. They were rejoiced to see a lady from the capital, who was willing to tell them new fas.h.i.+ons, and who taught them the recipes for many pleasant dishes. The young Ofterdingen was praised by knights and ladies, on account of his modesty and artless, mild behavior. The ladies lingered, too, with pleasure upon his captivating form, which resembled the simple word of some Unknown, which perhaps one scarcely regards, until, long after he has gone, it gradually opens its bud, and at length presents a beautiful flower in all the colored splendor of deeply interwoven leaves, so that one never forgets it, nor is ever wearied of its remembrance, but finds in it an exhaustless and ever-present treasure.
We now begin to divine the Unknown more exactly; and our presages take form, till at once it becomes clear, that he was an inhabitant of a higher world. The merchants received many orders, and parted from their hosts with mutual hearty wishes, that they might see each other soon again. In one of these castles, where they arrived towards evening, the people were enjoying themselves right jovially. The lord of the castle was an old soldier, who celebrated and interrupted the leisure of peace, and the solitude of his situation, with frequent banquets; and who, besides the tumult of war and the chase, knew no other means of pastime, except the br.i.m.m.i.n.g beaker.
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