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By Friedrich von Matthisson
SILENT, in the veil of evening twilight, | |
| Rests the plain; the woodland song is still, | |
| Save that here, amid these mouldering ruins, | |
| Chirps a cricket, mournfully and shrill. | |
| Silence sinks from skies without a shadow, | 5 |
| Slowly wind the herds from field and meadow, | |
| And the weary hind to the repose | |
| Of his father’s lowly cottage goes. | |
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| Here, upon this hill, by forests bounded, | |
| ’Mid the ruins of departed days, | 10 |
| By the awful shapes of Eld surrounded, | |
| Sadness! unto thee my song I raise! | |
| Sadly think I what in gray old ages | |
| Were these wrecks of lordly heritages: | |
| A majestic castle, like a crown, | 15 |
| Placed upon the mountain’s brow of stone. | |
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| There, where round the column’s gloomy ruins, | |
| Sadly whispering, clings the ivy green, | |
| And the evening twilight’s mournful shimmer | |
| Blinks the empty window-space between, | 20 |
| Blessed, perhaps, a father’s tearful eye | |
| Once the noblest son of Germany; | |
| One whose heart, with high ambition rife, | |
| Warmly swelled to meet the coming strife. | |
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| “Go in peace!” thus spake the hoary warrior, | 25 |
| As he girded on his sword of fame; | |
| “Come not back again, or come as victor: | |
| Oh, be worthy of thy father’s name!” | |
| And the noble youth’s bright eyes were throwing | |
| Deadly flashes forth; his cheeks were glowing, | 30 |
| As with full-blown branches the red rose | |
| In the purple light of morning glows. | |
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| Then, a cloud of thunder, flew the champion, | |
| Even as Richard Lion-Heart, to fight; | |
| Like a wood of pines in storm and tempest, | 35 |
| Bowed before his path the hostile might. | |
| Gently, as a brook through flowers descendeth. | |
| Homeward to the castle-crag he wendeth,— | |
| To his father’s glad, yet tearful face,— | |
| To the modest maiden’s chaste embrace. | 40 |
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| Oh, with anxious longing, looks the fair one | |
| From her turret down the valley drear! | |
| Shield and breastplate glow in gold of evening, | |
| Steeds fly forward, the beloved draws near! | |
| Him the faithful right-hand mute extending, | 45 |
| Stands she, pallid looks with blushes blending. | |
| Oh, but what that soft, soft eye doth say, | |
| Sings not Petrarch’s, nor e’en Sappho’s lay! | |
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| Merrily echoed there the sound of goblets, | |
| Where the rank grass, waving in the gale, | 50 |
| O’er the nests of owls is blackly spreading, | |
| Till the silver glance of stars grew pale. | |
| Tales of hard-won battle fought afar, | |
| Wild adventures in the Holy War, | |
| Wakened in the breast of hardy knight | 55 |
| The remembrance of his fierce delight. | |
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| Oh, what changes! Awe and night o’ershadow | |
| Now the scene of all that proud array; | |
| Winds of evening, full of sadness, whisper, | |
| Where the strong ones revelled and were gay; | 60 |
| Thistles lonely nod, in places seated | |
| Where for shield and spear the boy entreated, | |
| When aloud the war-horn’s summons rang, | |
| And to horse in speed the father sprang. | |
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| Ashes are the bones of these,—the mighty! | 65 |
| Deep they lie within earth’s gloomy breast; | |
| Hardly the half-sunken funeral tablets | |
| Now point out the places where they rest! | |
| Many to the winds were long since scattered,— | |
| Like their tombs, their memories sunk and shattered | 70 |
| O’er the brilliant deeds of ages gone | |
| Sweep the cloud-folds of Oblivion! | |
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| Thus depart life’s pageantry and glory! | |
| Thus flit by the visions of vain might! | |
| Thus sinks, in the rapid lapse of ages, | 75 |
| All that earth doth bear, to empty night! | |
| Laurels, that the victor’s brow encircle, | |
| High deeds, that in brass and marble sparkle, | |
| Urns devoted unto Memory, | |
| And the songs of Immortality! | 80 |
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| All, all, that with longing and with rapture | |
| Here on earth a noble heart doth warm, | |
| Vanishes like sunshine in the autumn, | |
| When the horizon’s verge is veiled in storm. | |
| Friends at evening part with warm embraces,— | 85 |
| Morning looks upon the death-pale faces; | |
| Even the joys that Love and Friendship find | |
| Leave on earth no lasting trace behind. | |
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| Gentle Love! how all thy fields of roses | |
| Bounded close by thorny deserts lie! | 90 |
| And a sudden tempest’s awful shadow | |
| Oft doth darken Friendship’s brightest sky! | |
| Vain are titles, honor, might, and glory! | |
| On the monarch’s temples proud and hoary, | |
| And the way-worn pilgrim’s trembling head, | 95 |
| Doth the grave one common darkness spread! | |
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