The words of warning and despair, "O Hoheneck! O Hoheneck!" WALTER. Still in my soul that cry goes on, Ah, what a cruel sense of loss, Like a black shadow, would fall across The hearts of all, if he should die! His gracious presence upon earth Was as a fire upon a hearth; As pleasant songs, at morning sung, The words that dropped from his sweet tongue Strengthened our hearts; or, heard at night, Made all our slumbers soft and light. Where is he? HUBERT. In the Odenwald. Some of his tenants, unappalled By fear of death, or priestly word, — A holy family, that make Have him beneath their watch and ward, For love of him, and Jesus' sake! Pray you come in. For why should I With out-door hospitality My prince's friend thus entertain? WALTER. I would a moment here remain. But you, good Hubert, go before, From which it steals the breath away, It is of him that I would think. You cannot wait on, will be there; But their soft eyes look into mine, And their lips speak to me, and all Leaning over the parapet. The day is done; and slowly from the scene The stooping sun upgathers his spent shafts, And puts them back into his golden quiver! Below me in the valley, deep and green As goblets are, from which in thirsty draughts We drink its wine, the swift and mantling river Flows on triumphant through these lovely re gions, Etched with the shadows of its sombre mar gent, And soft, reflected clouds of gold and argent! How beautiful it is! Fresh fields of wheat, Vineyard, and town, and tower with fluttering flag, The consecrated chapel on the crag, And the white hamlet gathered round its base, O friend! O best of friends! Thy absence more Than the impending night darkens the landscape o'er! |