THE KAISER'S FEAST

119

THE KAISER'S FEAST

[Louis, Emperor of Germany, having put his brother, the Palsgrave Rodolphus, under the ban of the empire in the twelfth century, that unfortunate prince fled to England, where he died in neglect and poverty. "After his decease, his mother Matilda privately invited his children to return to Germany; and, by her mediation, during a season of festivity, when Louis kept wassail in the Castle of Heidelberg, the family of his brother presented themselves before him in the garb of suppliants, imploring pity and forgiveness. To this appeal the victor softened." -Miss Benger's Memoirs of the Queen of Bohemia.]

THE Kaiser feasted in his hall-
The red wine mantled high;
Banners were trembling on the wall
To the peals of minstrelsy:
And many a gleam and sparkle came
From the armour hung around,

As it caught the glance of the torch's flame,
Or the hearth with pine-boughs crowned.

Why fell there silence on the chord
Beneath the harper's hand?

And suddenly from that rich board,

Why rose the wassail band?

The strings were hushed-the knights made way

For the queenly mother's tread,

As up the hall, in dark array,

Two fair-haired boys she led.

She led them even to the Kaiser's place,

And still before him stood;

Till, with strange wonder, o'er his face,
Flushed the proud warrior-blood:
And "Speak, my mother! speak!" he cried;
"Wherefore this mourning vest,

And the clinging children by thy side
In weeds of sadness drest?"

"Well may a mourning vest be mine,
And theirs, my son, my son!
Look on the features of thy line
In each fair little one!

Though grief awhile within their eyes
Hath tamed the dancing glee,

Yet there thine own quick spirit lies-
Thy brother's children see!

"And where is he, thy brother-where? He in thy home that grew,

And smiling, with his sunny hair,

Ever to greet thee flew?

How would his arms thy neck entwine,

His fond lips press thy brow!

My son oh, call these orphans thine !
Thou hast no brother now!

"What! from their gentle eyes doth naught
Speak of thy childhood's hours,
And smite thee with a tender thought

Of thy dead father's towers?

Kind was thy boyish heart and true,

When reared together there,

Through the old woods like fawns ye flew-
Where is thy brother-where?

THE KAISER'S FEAST

"Well didst thou love him then, and he
Still at thy side was seen:
How is it that such things can be

As though they ne'er had been?
Evil was this world's breath, which came
Between the good and brave!

Now must the tears of grief and shame
Be offered to the grave.

"And let them, let them there be poured!
Though all unfelt below-

Thine own wrung heart, to love restored,
Shall soften as they flow.

Oh! Death is mighty to make peace;

Now bid his work be done!

So many an inward strife shall cease-
Take, take these babes, my son."

His eye was dimmed-the strong man shook
With feelings long suppressed;

Up in his arms the boys he took,

And strained them to his breast.

And a shout from all in the royal hall
Burst forth to hail the sight;

And eyes were wet midst the brave that met
At the Kaiser's feast that night.

121

TASSO AND HIS SISTER

["DEVANT Vous est Sorrente, là demeurait la sœur de Tasse, quand il vint en pélerin demander à cette obscure amie un asyle contre l'injustice des princes. Ses longues douleurs avaient presque egaré sa raison! il ne lui restait plus que son génie."-CORINNE.]

SHE sat, where on each wind that sighed
The citron's breath went by,

While the red gold of eventide
Burned in the Italian sky.

Her bower was one where daylight's close
Full oft sweet laughter found,

As thence the voice of childhood rose
To the high vineyards round.

But still and thoughtful at her knee
Her children stood that hour,
Their bursts of song and dancing glee
Hushed as by words of power.

With bright fixed wondering eyes, that gazed
Up to their mother's face,

With brows through parted ringlets raised,

They stood in silent grace.

While she-yet something o'er her look
Of mournfulness was spread-

Forth from a poet's magic book
The glorious numbers read;

The proud undying lay, which poured
Its light on evil years;

TASSO AND HIS SISTER

123

His of the gifted pen and sword,*

The triumph, and the tears.

She read of fair Erminia's flight,
Which Venice once might hear
Sung on her glittering seas at night
By many a gondolier:

Of him she read, who broke the charm
That wrapt the myrtle grove;
Of Godfrey's deeds, of Tancred's arm,
That slew his Paynim love.

Young cheeks around that bright page glowed,

Young holy hearts were stirred:

And the meek tears of woman flowed

Fast o'er each burning word.

And sounds of breeze, and fount, and leaf,
Came sweet each pause between,
When a strange voice of sudden grief

Burst on the gentle scene.

The mother turned. A way-worn man,

In pilgrim garb, stood nigh,

Of stately mien, yet wild and wan,

Of proud yet mournful eye.

But drops which would not stay for pride

From that dark eye gushed free,

As pressing his pale brow, he cried,

'Forgotten! even by thee!

It is scarcely necessary to recall the well-known Italian saying, that Tasso, with his sword and pen, was superior to all men.