Where erst he mused, in solitude, upon That power-that passion, love-then all unknown. For was not all around him bright and gay? And now, and now, alas! alas! my tale Why should they have the power to cloud such light? As forms at eve, or faint, funereal hymn, When darkness broods upon the earth all round, And the thick air but seems t' obstruct the sound. The dream dispelled which haunted her till then,— "Where, and when Where wert thou born,—where? say," the matron cried. "In sooth, I know not," thus the blooming bride; "But I have still imaginings of home, From very childhood wont to me to come, Even as spirits of air, or ocean deep, And when they come I cannot choose but weep. A form that o'er my infant cradle hung So fondly, and such mournful music sung In aftertimes, a melting strain,—of love Which flourish'd fair, till envious tongues had strove, Entwined together as one." A big tear rolls, A scalding drop, adown the pallid cheek Of her who strongly strives, but may not speak — "She would gaze upon My childish countenance; and then anon The matron's heart was clave, Even as the earth is for a new made grave; And down she sunk beneath the strife of mind, Even as an old tree 'fore the angry wind. The bride, meanwhile, her bosom's snow laid bare, Which lay all round, luxuriant, - as is seen The sun to tint the high and hoary peaks O' the Alps, before his slumb'rous bed he seeks. “Thou art,—thou art my daughter!" shrieked the mother; Thou art my child,—and Conrad is thy brother! Oh God! oh God! why should I live to see Such fearful thing shake all my faith in thee? I Mother!—your mother! Why did I not die? Ere this dark day dawned on me?" Death 'gan creep Through the young bride's pure blood, as reptiles pass, VOL. II. E Her glance grew fix'd-her fair face pale-one groan, And her sweet soul had from its dwelling flown. And that sad man, the bridegroom brother-oh! And straightways from his sight the world did roll. Thus perished they who, in that lonely tomb, But why with their kind Had thrust them rudely from their resting-place In the beginning of the fourteenth century, Stolzenfels, on the left bank of the Rhine, close by Coblentz, was one of the most formidable robber-fortresses on that river. It was then called Die Stolze Veste-The Proud Fortress. Long before that period, however, a young knight, named Ottmar, dwelt there, in honour and esteem. His only companion was a beloved sister, named Williswind, whose virtue as well as her beauty was the theme of every tongue from Cologne to Strasburg. They had a stately retinue, as beseemed their quality and nothing was absent from their castle which could increase the pleasures known at that period, and in the state of society which then existed. Human happiness, however, is not of long duration in any case. Perhaps it is well it should not: for as the poet truly sings, A war broke out between the Prince Palatine of the Rhine and the Count of Julich: and both sovereigns bestirred themselves to obtain the advantage in it. Ottmar, who owed allegiance to the former as a feudatory, was summoned to his banner; and he set out for the camp of his liege lord, on the other side of the river, leaving the fair Williswind alone in Stolzenfels, protected only by some faithful servants of their father. It was a trying thing for one so young and so beautiful to be thus left to herself in those troublous times, when might was right, when power was paramount to justice, and when "the strong hand" was superior to all law. But she had been brought up all her lifetime in comparative solitude; and, haply ignorant of the ways of the world, and unknowing of the wickedness of men, she felt no fear of the future, and experienced no anxiety for her dangerous situation. A pet raven was her favourite companion. She had reared him from the egg; and he was now the participator of all her innocent pleasures. In her walks he was ever with her; when she sought the recesses of the tangled wood, or strolled among the fair flowers of the castle garden-herself a fairer flower than the fairest there—he was always hovering round her head, or hopping gaily after her; while ever and anon he would perch on her shoulder and pluck her ruffles, and croak when he wanted food, or wished to attract her attention to himself. Two months passed quietly in this peaceful manner-in this unclouded and uninterrupted sunshine of the mind. At the end of that time, Ottmar, along with the other great vassals of the Palatine, re-crossed the Rhine; and that prince placing himself at their head, the whole army advanced towards the county of Julich. Williswind was rather grieved at her brother's departure for the seat of war; but she had such a strong presentiment of the protection of a gracious Providence, that her sorrow was comparatively slight. She confided in God, and she felt that he would not forsake her. "For," thought she, "if my brother fell, I would have no one to defend me from wrong; and the Maker of the world is too just to deprive one of support who never sinned against him, with a consciousness of so doing." Thus would she argue with herself; proving that "the wish is parent to the thought." Alas! poor girl, she knew little of the world; and less of the inscrutable ways of Providence. These arguments, however, had a good effect-they speedily restored her to her wonted serenity; and once more made the happiness of the heart that of all around her. Youth and deep sorrow are almost incompatible; they cannot coalesce together |