UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA AT LOS ANGELES BALLAD ROMANCES By E. H. HORNE AUTHOR OF "ORION," " COSMO DE MEDICf," ETC. LONDON: CHARLES OLLIER, SOUTHAMPTON STREET, STRAND. 1846. f • • » •- « • * • » • * • • * • * • • • • • • ^7^4^ CONTENTS. PAGE Till: NOBLE HEART: A BOHEMIAN LEGEND .... 3 THE MONK OF SVVINESHEAD ABBEY: A BALLAD CHRO- NICLE OF THE DEATH OF KING JOHN ^7 THE THREE KNIGHTS OF CAMELOTT : A FAIRY TALE . 123 THE BALLAD OF DELORA ; OR, THE PASSION OF ANDREA COJIO l r )7 BEDD GELERT: A AVELSH LEGEND OF THE VALLEY AND THE TOMB 187 BEN CAPSTAN: A BALLAD OF THE NIGHT-WATCH . . 205 THE ELF OF THE WOODLANDS: A CHILD'S STORY . . 219 THE NOBLE HEART. 3 Bohemian EcgentJ. THE NOBLE HEART. ■ Bring from Bohemia's woods and bow< rs Cliaplets, wreaths, and odorous flowers; Ivy rock-grown in soft rains, The purple crocus from the plains, Scented sprigs o' tlie dark green fir Fresh from the sparkling mountain air, With lilies white and azure bells Cull'd in the deep Moravian dells; But, oh! from Love's own garden sweet, Strew roses round the happy feet, And weave in garlands for the bed Of Hulda, who this day shall wed Sir Ludolf, knight of Sonnenfels." Sir Ludolf is the valiant knight Whose sword is only for the right, b 2 THE NOBLE HEART. And ever in the van bath he Fought for his country's barest tree, "Whene'er encroachment waved a lance, And 'gainst all insult, threat, mischance, Or faUing-off allegiance; But never hath his banner flamed Across the field by conscience blamed, To win domains or mere renown Of blood-stained Glory's empty crown. He is a well-proved noble knight, Equal in virtue and in might. Ilulda, the Sweet One, loved him well, As olden legends simply tell. And her young heart would ever rise Whene'er Sir Ludolf met her eyes, And when his valiant deeds and name Were sung at feasts or festive game; Ye, midst the blazon of fame's scroll. She honoured more his inward soul, Feeling thai something unexpress'd, Was greater in his manly breast. THE NOBLE HEART. Wolfram of Lindenforst, her sire. Consenting to their love's desire, Proud of Sir Ludolf's broad domain, And also of his knightly fame, Worthy he deem'd of the great dower ( )f Lindenforst — fields, woods, and tower — Hath fix'd his daughter's bridal day; And now 'midst wreaths and chaplets gay. With lingering, tender pauses long, Unto the altar moves the throng, Singing the choral marriage song. (lazing on flowers before her feet, With cheek as fresh and smile as sweet Yet with a thoughtful tenderness Which made not that resemblance less, 1 1 ulda beside Sir Ludolf paced, With trembling fingers interlaced; While on the other side, her sire Moved to the measure of the quire. Tow'rds her the head of Ludolf bent In deeply passive ravishment, THE NOBLE HEART. And with a humble dignity That brought the tears to many an eye. But who comes riding o'er the mead, With vesture soil'd, on foaming steed, His vassals following far behind ? His errand surely must be kind ? Yet doth his high and urgent mien Suit ill love's soft entrancing scene ; And in his hand he bears a lance, That in the sun doth gleam and glance. Tis Otto ! nephew of the king ! He nears — what message doth he bring ? Saluting first the bride and knight, Sir Wolfram, and the ladies bright, The royal messenger address'd The bride, with hand upon his breast. " Most lovely lady, pardon grant, That with a voice all dissonant I interrupt this choral song j But 'tis the king's injunction strong T1IK NOBLE HEART. At Prague, ere nightfall, would be - Knight Ludolf — on whose fealty Doth princely Ottocar rely For speed — as I for courtesy, Since that my presence and my words Must lack all grace in his regards." The bridegroom bow'd his knightly head: " Sir Otto, I obey !" he said. " I will forthwith to Prague repair, Swift as my steed can breast the air; Meantime, beseech you, if you may, Your journey back awhile delay ; With good Sir Wolfram sojourn make, To rest, and of the feast partake, Which in the halls of Lindenforst This night " What else he said was lost. To Hulda turns Sir Ludolf now, With cheek all pale and serious brow. Deeply he gazes in her face, Then bends his knee a minute's space, THE NOBLE HEART. And whispers words that love alone Could understand — and he is gone. Where the last hill-top meets the skies-, Ilulda long fix'd her tender eyes, Still doubting if indeed her knight Had vanished from her loving sight, Or deeming that perchance once more His plume above the hills might soar. While thus she stood and gazed in vain, Sir Otto, o'er his courser's mane Bent his tall person with a glance That seem'd to scan his pointed lance, But on the beauteous Hulda's face 'Twas fix'd, in rapture with her grace. Then with a gay and easy bound Alighting on the flower-strewn ground. Sir Otto cross'd her clear eye's beam — And Ilulda started from her dream. Ludolf lias ridden o'er the hills, Cross'd mountain, forest, si reams, and rills, THE NOBLK I1KART. And while the nightfall's shadow wide, Crept o'er the palace' eastern side And slowly rose the first clear star, He stood before King Ottocar. " Oh, valiant Ludolf !" said the king, " Thou'st ridden on an eagle's wing! I greet thee with my thanks — but thou Yet further loyalty must show. Behold this mouldering scroll, which bears The characters of distant years! It is an ancient prophecy, And bodes disaster unto me. Whene'er the trees of Lindenforst Climb Sonnenfels, with arms across, A king shall die, a throne be lost ! And then he added, inwardly, ' It well may be — it well may be. Those two domains are each so wide, If join'd, what evils might betide; With too much power they might invade My rights — to foreign arms give aid.' — 10 THE NOBLE HEART. " Thou see'st, Sir Knight, what fate is sped "With Linden's heiress shouldst thou wed: Those elms with loving arms will greet Thy rocks — the blazon'd 'scutcheons meet — And Ottocar his throne and life Lose in some war, or civil strife. "Wherefore I charge thee, noble Knight, Elsewhere thy vows of love to plight, Nor deem with Hulda e'er to wed With this dark peril o'er my head. But since thou hast so valiantly Approved thyself in each degree Of honour and of chivalry, And that thy name throughout the land Ranks with the highest — take the hand Of our fair daughter, who shall be The bright reward of loyalty!" The Knight gazed on his dusty cloak: Its foldings slowly searched and shook, While with a blank and aching eye, lb' stared upon the prophecy; THE NOBLE HKAKT. I 1 Then bowing vaguely in the air, Wage ligbt. " King Ottocar, 1 come," said he, " To offer thanks on bended knee For favours high; and next, to sue Pardon that I, to love's court true, Must not accept the royal maid, Nor lose life's substance for a shade. Whether this shade, King, may be Thrown from that darksome prophecy, Or from my castle and domains, I care not; both my heart disdains. Broad lands no longer will I own; But here resign them to the throne; Hence in my love's choice being free, As thou from this fell augury, 12 THE NOBLE HEART. 'g» I will return without my land, And offer, thus, my empty hand To Hulda, — who will understand." The King, astonish'd, bent his head Forward with earnestness, and said: " Sir Knight, thou dost thyself great wron And will repent it soon — and long; For when a Knight hath lost his land, Wealth, station, vassals, and command, He must not deem a second time That fortune's hand will help him climb. Holds good thy will to do this thing?" Sir Ludolf smiled — " It does, liege King." Said Ottocar, with haughty mien, " Our daughter, sure, thou hast not seen ! Enough— God speed thee!" Said the Knight. With humble air, but vision bright, " God speed me, sire, as I do right." Sir Ludolf now, his lands resigned, Rode back with well-contented mind, Till'. NOBLE HEART. 13 And in the halls of Lindenforst Told, in brief words, how all was lost; While Hulda'a face shone by his side A yet more proud and happy bride; And all the knights and ladies fair, Squires, vassals, and retainers there, Sent up loud plaudits in the air; — All save Sir Otto, who, aside, Gnawing his lip, with lengthy stride Pass'd out, — and save Sir "Wolfram old, Who bowed, but silent stood, and cold. " Sir Wolfram, tell me," Ludolf said— " Was thy word pledged that I should wed This Lady ? Yes; but would'st thou fain Accept me still, without domain?" " 'Twere Hulda's pride, and greater gain !" Said Hulda. giving both her hands; But Wolfram still in silence stands. At last he said, " Sir Knight, we see Thou hast done greatly, and art free 14 THE NOBLE HEART. To wed, as heretofore, — and I Applaud thy love and loyalty. Yet must I ask a month's delay — Our guests are gone — another day "We'll find right soon — and thus renew The bridal rites with honour due." Sir Ludolf said, " I acquiesce." And Hulda smiled through her distress, While something like a boding crept Into her heart — alone, she wept: And still Sir Otto, as their guest, Remained, and oft her ear addressed. Days fled, and true love's passion-flower Put forth fresh buds with every hour, Which Otto saw, yet constantly Ilr led his hopes, and bent his knee. On Ilulda's steps he waited ever With smile, and sigh, and soft endeavour. To v in regard, — yet sought in vain, Creating nought save courteous pain. THE NOBLE HEART. I 5 Ere half this lingering moon was gone, Sir Ludolf, on the castle lawn Walking with her who held his troth, Met Otto, and thus spake to hotli: " Sweet Lady mine, and royal Knight, Let me have favour in your sight, If what I say to either seem Unfit, or suiting best the gleam Of knightly swords; but since I see This lady's hand, though pledged to me, Thou also seek'st, and that her sire Stands sore perplex'd with our desire, For that besides thy high degree Thou shar'st the lands of royalty; While I have nothing but my heart And my good name, — I will depart — Till the month's end, and leave thee free Thy suit to urge, and ruin me. When I return, my lady's word Shall silence me, and sheathe my sword If thou art chosen; and my hand, 16 THE NOBLE HEART. Thee will I offer, princely friend, And forthwith go to some far land." Hulda's white brow Sir Ludolf held Long time, and tenderly dispell'd The pain that strayed across her face; Then to Sir Otto left his place, And from the castle straightway sped Till the month's end, as he had said. No day, no hour, no minute lost The happy rival, on love's coast Thus cast alone, and the fair isle Left to the sun of his sole smile. With courtly mirth and gay parade He makes time seem to have no shade; For o'er his pain, Hope shakes bright wings; His tears are pearls, — and if he sings, The plaint, like that of Philomel, Is rapturous, and becomes him well. Twice sent he to King Ottocar A trusty squire as messenger; THE NOBLE BEART. 1 And with Sir Wolfram oft be spake In private, loitering by the hike, At twilight hour; and pointing down To eve's star, that, reflected shone — Then upwards to reality — "As deep."' said he "and yet as high, Burns the true love my breast within, Full-filling all the space between. Thy daughter will be mine, I ween." The old month died, the new month came, And with it Ludolf's steady name; Sir Wolfram straight assembling all, Guests, friends, and vassals in his hall, Into the centre then he led His daughter, and to Ludolf said: " Sir Knight, our highest thanks to thee Are due for thy love's chivalry, Nobler than which has never been Recorded, nor will e'er be seen. But further do I not devise Thy great and generous sacrifice c 18 THE NOBLE HEART. To put to proof. Thy rich broad lands The King returns into thine hands, And, as the friend we value most, Welcome, our guest, to Lindenforst — So long as it shall please you stay, Now, or on future festive day." The Knight upon Sir Wolfram bent His steady eye, and said, "Content: Thy friendship welcome is to me — But for the ancient prophecy?" " That," said Sir Otto, " as before Remains; need we, Sir Knight, say more?" Sir Ludolf now to Ilulda turn'd, With cheek like ashes newly burn'il, That through their paleness once betray A spreading gleam, then die away: Said he with deep yet tender voice — " The lady Hulda will make choice." By Wolfram's angry looks unquelled, Ilulda her hand to Ludolf held — THE NOBLE HEART. I!) " Sir Knight," said she "take here thine own; Thy lands, thereby, again are gone, But let love reap what truth has sown." The Knight had clasp'd and closely pre.->M That hand upon his lips and breast, With heart too full for words to tell, — When suddenly there ringing fell Upon the pavement mar his foot, A gauntlet; all around were mute. Sir Otto stood with flashing eyes: To pure Love's starry mysteries No longer he appeal'd, but sought His claim and passion in the court Of arms to justify. The Knight He here defied to mortal fi^ht. - Sir Ludolf with a bearing mild Took up the glove, and, sighing, smiled; Then glancing down upon his sword, The castle left without a word, c 2 20 THE NOBLE HEART. He to a village straight repair'd, And for the fight was soon prepared. But seven days since — all secretly — Had preparations due been made, Suiting prince Otto's high degree, And oft his arms had he essayed; Training his steed right dexterously, To face the sun or gain the shade; — When now the lady Hulda sent To pray his presence — and he went: " 'Tis well," thought he, " she doth repent. " Sir Otto," said the earnest maid, " In arms for deadly feud array'd, Thou wouldsl appear to justify A claim o'er me — which I deny. My heart is to Sir Ludolf given, Here, and when we shall meet in heaven; I pray you, therefore, do not seek My soul'.- ii.\l bonds by force to break; THE NOBLE in: ART. 2 J Nor blot the debt of gratitude I owe to thee by this fierce mood, Unworthy Ludolfs nobleness, — Of me, — and of thyself no less. I would not see two noble men Rush fighting as from out a den, Like two wild beasts within a field, To gain their prey — when one shall yield." " Oh, princely Otto, quench this fire, I am the only just umpire; And I have chosen — all is done — A battle may be lost or won ; But I am Love's, by yon free sun ! If Ludolf kill thee, I shall say 'Twere pity — but thou hadst thy way ! If thou Sir Ludolf kill, be sure My horror of thee will endure Beyond all hope of time to cure. Then peril not for me a life, For never shalt thou call me wife ! 22 THE NOBLE HEART. " Once more, bethink thee, 'tis not fair, Thy chance with Ludolf s to compare, For thou hast but a life to lose — He, life and love. Wilt thou refuse A boon I ask of thee? Much love Thou'st vow'd to me — some small part prove ; It is the first request I make, I pray you grant it for my sake — For your own honour, and the peace You will hereafter feel; 'tis this — Withdraw thy challenge, loftier stand, And offer Ludolf thy true hand." Feeling, at each fresh pulse's beat, The world was slipping 'ncath his feet, Sir Otto stood a moment's space, Then spake with pale and haughty face — " Lady of Lindenforst, a sire Can best dispose of maiden fire; And good Sir Wolfram's wish accords With mine, and with this pass of swords. The King, moreover, sanctions it." TI1K NOBLE HEART. 23 Within her bower doth Hulda sit. Gravely and sadly, yef with pride That she this fruitless homicide For jealousy, self-love, revenge, Had striven to forestall, and change Into true honour's amity. ' But why not still be done,' thought she; ' And if not changed to friendliness, I may prevent its fierce excess;' So to Sir Ludolf hied she straight, And gently by his side she sate. " My lord," said she, " you should approve What I shall say; 'tis learnt of love, And copied from the noble soul Wherewith you gave to my control My maiden hand, and vow'd to sheathe The sword of rivalry beneath Manly regard and fortitude. Now, do I pray thee, shed no blood, But take once more that lofty mood." 24 THE NOBLE HEART. Said Ludolf, " Sweet One, thou dost know, I offer'd not, nor sought a blow; Sir Otto 'tis who hath defied Me, to the death — the words abide Though his young sword I may deride." " Can Ludolf fear mere words," said she, " Who hath so oft led victory From rank to rank — made iron men yield, And changed the fate of many a field ? Refuse this useless fight, and stand Upon thy laurels! Take my hand, 'Tis ever thine, nor let me be Fought for with brute ferocity, Like some wild creature of the wood, The trembling prize of madden'd blood. There's nought to fight for — I am thine; Thou shalt not fight, if thou art mine — Thou wilt not if thou deeply lov'st." " Lady," said he, " my heart thou mov'st Deeply — with truth thou shak'st my soul: Rut am I in mine own control? THE NOBLE HEART. 25 Or e'en in Love's, when Honour's voice Hath called me forth, and leaves no choice?" " 'Tis only honour's Shade," she said, And rose with bright majestic head; " The higher lesson thou hast taught, Shows me this battle is worth nought, Nor will I thus he sold and bought. By love alone thy bride am I — Fight — kill — and lose me certainly — Take shadow, or reality. It is a great request I make, I pray you grant it for my sake." Sir Ludolf took the hand she gave, And kiss'd it with a sweetness grave ; Then said, "I promise !" and some space He held her lock'd in his embrace, And felt that truth was happiness, Whether 'twere wise or not, in this. Early next morn Sir Ludolf went To seek Prince Otto, with intent 26 THE NOBLE HEART. This mortal strife to set aside, And then return with conscious pride To claim his long affianced bride; But on the way a herald loud With voice and trumpet drew a crowd; And Ludolf heard him there proclaim The combat — time, and place, and name; Then in his stirrups rising high, This man, like chanticleer, did cry — " Sir Otto, prince of Rabenstein, Bight valiant, of the royal line, And far-renown'd Sir Ludolf, knight Of Sonnenfels' steep rock -towers bright, The more to honour on this day, When one shall fall and change to clay, Will royal Ottocar resort, This fight to see with all his court." Sir Ludolf with an aching arm Returned unto the little farm Where he abode, and pass'd the night THE NOBLE HEART. 27 In prayer for fortitude, and right To see, and seeing, do the right. With lustrous baldric, cross, and star, And led by royal Ottocar, The mailed knights all proudly ride, And noble ladies grace their side, Whose jewell'd robes cast arrowy rays, While shields of steel and helmets blaze; And colour thus with light contending, Melts like rich fields with sunbeams blending. Down the hill-side the cavalcade Comes pouring like a bright cascade, And soon the arena's space within Thronging, they range with murmurous din. Sir Wolfram slowly took his seat, Pale and oft gazing on his feet ; And Hulda by his side appear'd, With head and form erectly rear'd, But deep eyes gazing anxiously, And cpaivering lip, which all might see. 28 THE NOBLE HEART. The crimson banners stream and flare, The trumpets smite the brassy air; The war-steeds neigh, and ramp, and sway, And snuff the exalting battle-day, Which to hot blood is more sublime, Then all the scrolls and stars of time. The herald now declares the terms Of combat, which the King confirms : " Prince Otto doth defy the knight Of Sonnenfels, to mortal fight; The victor claiming as his prize The Lady Ilulda; he who dies, Still earning honoured memories." This said, a sudden trumpet-blast The barriers wide asunder cast! A charger's hoofs with gusty bounds A moment beat redoubling sounds, And with inflamed and desperate face Sir Otto dashed into the space ! His coal-black armour thick inlaid With diamonds, cast a fretful shade, THE NOBLE HEART. 29 That match'd his hollow cheek of ire, Dark with a gall'd heart's spiteful fire. His lance-blade waving to and fro, Like to a serpent's tongue doth show, Who fiercely threats, yet douhts his blow. He gazed around; the trumpets loud Defiance sounded, high and proud; The herald's voice again was heard His speech repeating word by word. He ceased; — and, with a measured pace, Arm'd by the power within his face, But else unarm'd, Sir Ludolf came To justify his knightly fame. Central he stood with lofty mien, A beaming eye, a brow serene, And none the silence dared to break : All luld their breath while thus he spake — •• King Ottocar! — friends, courteous knights, And dames! who know all honour's rights, This challenge is a wrongful use Of arms, which, therefore, I refuse! 30 THE NOBLE HEART. "When doubt exists, or honest chance Of good success, to lift the lance Is honest ; if the holy cause Of truth, high virtue, nature's laws, Our country's rights, our friend's fair fame, Our king's just claims, our own good name, In any shade were perill'd here, Appeal we might to sword and spear. But there is nothing now to gain, — The prize Sir Otto's hopes would fain Set up, is mine already, fast; I would defend it first and last, If there were need — but there is none — The Lady Hulda hath been won — The contest for her hand is done." All eyes were now on Hulda turn'd, Whose cheek with pride and gladness burn'd, And to Sir Ludolf bowing low, Then to the King, she said, "'Tis so!" A murmur ran through all the throng, Each fell his arm and heart so strong. Tin; NOBLE BEABT. 31 Yet knew not well what lie should think. For duty hover'd on a brink; But Ludolf soon relieved their pain, And thus, unanswered, spake again: " I know, my liege, a moral right Seems dull beside a bloody fight, And that sincere at heart to be, Wins no applause like victory. Men are but men; and, knowing this, I take the world for what it is, Leaving to each his proper thought, Hoping the best, yet leaving nought; And simply say, — a deadly fight 1 will not wage, but claim my right; And for the lady, love's free-will To choose, above war's strength or skill. Thus by Heaven's truthful grace we save My rival's honour from the grave, Since fame no golden memories hath For bad return to friend's good faith; 32 THE NOBLE HEART. And for my honour, 'tis the land I cannot lose! On this I stand, And lift to God my honest hand!" Sir Ludolf bow'd, and left the place: The silence held a minute's space, And then a tumult rose, and each Spake rapidly — or to beseech The King to hear what he would say — And ladies hasten'd, in dismay, To fly their seats — while o'er the ground, His armour ringing at each bound, Sir Otto fiercely rode around! The throng dispersing, held dispute, If loss of knighthood absolute Were not the certain consequence Of misplaced reason's gross offence? — A few believed 'twas greatly done In Ludolf, who long since had won War's laurels, and could well afford, To plead love's cause with a sheath'd sword. THE NOBI.i: IMA HT. 33 Yet, in the end, they all agreed It was a most unknightly deed: A mortal ehallenge had been given — No lance was shiver'd, breastplate riven ; No side with gory wounds ran down; No helm was crush'd into the crown; No man and steed roll'd grim and ghast, Foaming with rage, while life ebb'd fast Upon the hot and torn-up field; No soul's last hope in blood was seal'd, While death-pangs gasp'd, ' I will not yield!' God, Nature, Love, and Future Life, All merged in the insensate strife; As if such things in heart and brain Had ne'er been founts of bliss and pain, Or murder ruled the world of Cain. The customs of a warlike time Were outraged by this peaceful crime. A mortal challenge had been given — A knight had talk'd of right and heaven, — 34 THE NOBLE HEART. Of reason, of his lady's love ! Disgracing thus shield, spur, and glove! And must henceforth accounted be An outcast from high chivalry! These evil words soon reach'd the ear Of Hulda, who, with many a tear, Declared aloud she was the cause Of Ludolf's breach of knighthood's laws; 'Twas she who would not set her hand The prize of lance, or reeking brand; "All rests with me!" she cried: in vain, " A knight," they said, " must never stain His va]our, howsoe'er it please His lady-love to toy and tease; Sir Ludolf, too, was no raw youth — Mature of years, he knew, forsooth, All ordinances and degrees Of courts and camps; and no soft breeze From Cupid's pinions, or the sighs Of one so young with hazel eyes, TnE NOBLE HEART. 35 Should e'er have marr'd or turn'd aside His manhood and his knightly pride." " Yes," said the King, " the stars malign Above his house make fatal sign: He is no longer knight of mine!" " Now, lastly," did Sir Wolfram say, " Thou seest, Sir Knight, thou hast thy way; My daughter, also, hath her will, So far; but if she love thee still — Which may be true some little while — Her sire she never shall beguile. Thou mayst be good, thou mayst be brave, But my consent she shall not have; Nor canst thou ask it of me now." Said Ludolf, " I receive the blow Into my heart; yet must I ask, Why not consent?" " I wear no mask," Sir Wolfram answer'd; " and I say I hold thee sullied since the day Thou with Prince Otto wouldst not fight, But spak'st instead of love and right. d 2 36 THE NOBLE HEART. {rood thou niayst be — brave thou hast been- Mayst be so still — but meu have seen Thy once high reputation fall. Thou know'st thy loss; I have said all; Except to ask, ivouldst thou thy shame Link to my daughter's noble name?" The answer was an inward groan, And Wolfram left him there alone. Alone, alone stood the sad Knight Nor saw that soon a form, in white, Flowing wide, beside his feet, Knelt down. It spake all piteous sweet: " Sir Knight, I kiss thy honour'd sword; Thy hand I take as once thy word, And press it to no heart of stone, Yet one that never can atone. Canst thou forgive what I have done?" " Hulda!" he said; " thy voice hath made My tears to gush. I am the shade 01' lii 111 thou loved'st." "Nay," she said, THE NOBLE HEART. 37 " The same as ever, yet far more." Now Ludolf, bending gently o'er, Raised her, and said, " Oh, can I take Thee to a heart thus doom'd to ache ? And yet I think it shall not break — Not quite — but live on for thy sake, Or for thy blessed memory, Since thou thyself art lost to me." " All, never lost," she cried, " while life Beats in this frame! — all the mad strife, And all the evil fallen on thee, Are caused by love, or caused by me; And I will truly pay that debt, My honour'd lord." Said he, " Not yet; For I am now a ruin'd tower, And days of tempest o'er me lower." While yet he spake, a vassal train Came with Sir Wolfram back again, To bear her off; and while 'twas done Three knights rode by at set of sun. They check'd their steeds, and thus said one: 38 THE NOBLE HEART. " How changed is Ludolf — see ye there! Mute, passive, ■with a lingering stare He suffers men to seize his bride, While standing fondly at his side; Then silent droops all pale and lone, And sits upon a boundary-stone!" The second said — " His spirit lost, Now, ghost- like strays, round Lindenforst: It is not Ludolf that we see." The third advanced right bitterly — " Thou art a recreant knight!" he said; And Ludolf rose, and struck him dead ! Now was his finely balanced mind And temper lost in raging wind. Away into the woods he strode, And there unseen cast off his load Of grief, and loosed his passion high, So long restrain'd v* ith mastery. He scored on rocks his country's wars, He beat his breast, and scorn'd his scars, Then call'd upon his ancestors; THE NOBLE HEART. And to his brain the echoes seem Like their reproachful spirits' acream! Now would he sit with sinking sadness — Now grasp and sway huge boughs with madness — Now hurry panting through the bushes — Now stand and gaze on plashy rushes. He had done nobly, right and strong, And all the world declared him wrong, And made his name a mockery song ! Meantime had Ilulda in her bower, Been closely guarded, day and hour: Sir Wolfram swore by his soul's life He ne'er would see her Ludolfs wife; And Hulda bore his bitter mood With mute yet painful fortitude, — Save once she answer'd — " All this ruth, From his great Ik 'art's devoted truth, And our dishonest littleness, Directly comes — beyond redress. 39 40 THE NOBLE HEART. His lands lie cast into the air For us, and we have left him bare. We are of earth, and he of heaven." No more hath angry Wolfram striven To crush her hopes, but suddenly She found she had her liberty, And forth might on her palfrey ride, Or loiter through the orchards wide. And now once more with golden spur And snow-white plume, a visitor To Lindenforst, Prince Otto came, And press'd his suit — to Hulda's shame, And hatred, and her fresh alarm, Lest it should bode some deadly harm. '•'Oh God!" unto herself said she, " They have slain Ludolf secretly !" Near Sonnenfels there is a cave, As secret as a hermit's grave; With shell-like windings far it strays Beneath the rocks, in secret ways. 41 THE NOBLK IIKAKT. Fronting the mouth there sleeps a lake, Whose deep blue surface ne'er doth break In waves, nor with one ripple wake; Silent and still, like death, it lies, With face turn'd upward to the skies. By rocks and hills 'tis compass'd round — They echo, but create no sound; And on the lake is nothing seen To part what is from what has been, Save that beside the far banks float White lilies and a broken boat. Within the cave, a figure dark Watches a wood-fire's dying spark, That through the deepening shades of night, Can send no more its pale red light. It dies; and then, as with a thrill, When thought hath ended in a will, The figure rose and hasten'd forth, With steady stride of might and wroth. One eve when Lindenforst was gay With feast and dance and mirthful play, 42 THE NOBLE HEART. And Hulda sigh'd, while o'er the hall Shone Otto's princely person tall, And she felt dark amid his light, — A Phantom pass'd before her sight ! She saw a lofty spectral form, Of knight and steed, as in a charm ! Down gazing on the castle lawn, Through the wide lattice, open thrown, It moved like shade ! Cold as a stone, She to the terrace-walk hath flown; " Oh, God!" she cried, "'tis he! 'tis he! And they have slain him secretly!" Hastily down the winding stair, Straight to the lawn doth she repair. The solemn mists are rising fast, And soon the lights and sounds are lost; But onward still she breathless sped: " Oh, love!" cried she, "if thou be'st dead, Thy noble blood is on my head!" She reached, and passed in dreamy state, The broken vision of a gate, TIIIO NOBLE BEAST. 43 And down the misty orchard .-dope She ran, and found her fearful hope! Between two distant, grey-limb'd trees, The Phantom of a knight she sees, Upon his steed, in armour clad, All stately, motionless, and sad, And like a figure in the cloud- ! The creeping mist so closely shrouds, That leg of steed or plume of knight Alike seem framed of vapoury light ! She paused, and stood awhile in dread, Then clasping soft her hands, she said: — " Oh, Phantom of a valiant knight ! Who gav'st to me the priceless right To call thee lover and liege lord, — If by some dark and treacherous sword Thou fell'st, oh, pardon me the crime! Speak to me gently — and in time, While yet my trembling knees sustain This struggling heart — this dizzy brain! 44 THE NOBLE HEART. Speak gently — in thy pity, speak ! Corn'st thou thy murderer here to seek? In life and death behold me thine!" The Phantom slowly made a sign: Its right hand raised with beckoning air — And Hulda stood awe-stricken there! But love is stronger than despair. Towards the Phantom, pace by pace, She moved, and look'd up in its face, Resign'd and sweet. With slow embrace, The Figure, bending from his steed, Raised her up gently, and with speed Through the white mist they fade away! Soon was Sir Wolfram in dismay! Hukla had vanish'd from the hall; Nor search can find, nor cry, nor call; And vassals hurry, pale, to tell Of Spectre-knight, who, by a spell, Smote to the earth five armed men, With shadowy lance of hell, and then THE NOBLE HEART. 45 Drew down upon the castle lawn The Lady Ilulda, who, forlorn, Before him on his steed was home. Some brief time did Sir Wolfram brood, And then took horse in vengeful mood. Though she was gone he knew not where, He guess'd with whom, in his despair; And calling Otto to his side, For Prague forthwith they fiercely ride. The Kin"; on this shall now decide. .- Unto the cave beside the lake The Spectre doth the lady take; Oh, well that lady knew, I wis, It was no spectre's tender kiss. " Sweet One," he said, " here rest secure, Till safe escape I can ensure To distant lands, where I may build A bower for thee, in some green wild, And we forget the high degree That once was ours, and ever see 46 THE NOBLE HEART. A higher bliss in love and truth, Such as all feel in early youth. But few retain: their hearts are lost In the world's dust, and all its cost. Not so with ours; for our domains Shall be in love's unbounded plains, And we will bless the fields and flowers, And of our former halls and towers Speak pleasantly in idle hours." And Hulda smiled to hear the Knight Talk thus, and said, with visage bright, " Our future rises like the light." Meantime a peasant girl he brought To tend on Hulda, while he sought How best to leave, with least delay, Their still beloved Bohemia. At a green village, once his own, Near Sonnenfels' bright towers of stone, He dwelt within a cot alone; And at the purple break of day, Down to the cave he made his way, THE NOBLE HEART. 47 With scrip and staff) in palmer's weed, His prison'd birds to tend and feed, Smiling to find their little need. The lovers won, though brief the space, More happiness in this lone place Than wealth could give, or time efface. Along the borders of the lake In love's deep silence do they take Their walk each morn; or if they speak, Their theme of future life doth break Into low murmurs; oh! too strong The present is, for love or song To reason o'er, except in dreams. But, soon as sunrise darts its beams Across the lake, and gilds the mouth Of that dear cave, the path uncouth Through secret w r ays, once more he takes, And finds the village, ere it wakes. Oh happy Time! why hast thou wings, When we would have thee ever stay? 48 THE NOBLE HEART. "Why hath Hope's lute so many strings, That some change tone with changeful day? Life's sweet illusions have no stings; Then wherefore can we not their power Retain, and dwell beside the springs That image Beauty's perfect flower ? Five days of bliss, and all was o'er! Sir Ludolf at the cottage door, Returning, met fair Hulda's sire, Who thus address'd him in his ire: — " Thou hast my daughter in thy hands, Somewhere conceal'd 'midst those wild lands That skirt the base of Sonnenfels ; But held, by force, or fraud, or spells." " I have," said Ludolf, " by my will, And her consent — thus to fulfil Our long betrothment, and to save Her feelings from a living grave." Cried Wolfram — " Oh, perverse of soul, Beyond right reason or control, THE NOBLE I IK ART. 49 Are both of ye! To each the hand Of royalty in wedlock's band Was offered; each refused the dower Of fortune — and shall curse the hour. Restore my daughter, or a blow From powers hard by shall smite thee low — Restore, forthwith !"— said Ludolf, "No!" "Proud madman!" cried the angry sire, "See'st thou yon corn-field's glancing fire! It is the polish'd helmet-glare Of nine score vassals hidden there, Ready whene'er I give the word To rush upon thee with the sword! What canst thou do who stand'st alone ?" The Knight's dark eye-ball swell'd and shone, While, rigid as a god of stone, His form he rear'd and scann'd the fields! " Sir Wolfram," said he, " no man yields Whose cause is good and arm is strong, Nor shall I thus alone stand long. E 50 THE NOBLE HEART. Think'st thou, when Sonnenfels I gave Unto the King my love to save — Gave freely, villages and towers — I also gave their free-born powers ? I never gave their human hearts! All these are mine. One word — and starts From every side a friendly band, Beside their lord to fall or stand. Go to thy men — they spoil the corn !" As one who searcheth for a thorn, That through his sleeve his flesh hath torn, Sir Wolfram bent somewhile his head. " I move thee not by this," he said; " But somewhat for thy secret ear I have. The sword thou may'st not fear, Yet thou wilt hearken seriously To what I now shall say to thee. Into this cot awhile repair ; The villagers throng round and stare, Whispering in knots, with threatening air!" THE NOBLE nEART. 51 Now Hulda left the cave when night, Was sinking 'neath the rising light, And, by the margin of the lake, Watch'd the slow purple form and break, Till rosy streaks fill up the space, And then soft gleams of gold enlace One ridge of clouds. Why comes he not ? He hath just reach'd the accustomed spot Upon the rocks, in his descent, But there remains, with looks down bent. He sees her, yet he doth not move — He knows on him her eyes of love Are fix'd, and still he stands above. At length, adovvn the pathless steep, With heavy foot, and breathing deep, He comes, like one who walks in sleep. " Hulda," he said, with tender air, " Sweet One — sweet hope, and sweet despair — Our days are ended. I must now Fulfil a miserable vow, e 2 52 THE NOBLE HEART. And to thy father take thee home. Have faith in me — my Hulcla, come ! But wherefore — how it haps — what words He hath, beyond a thousand swords, To make me do this wretchedness, I may not speak, nor canst thou guess. Enough, that I must do this thing." " Ah, Ludolf !" said she, trembling, And in a broken voice, with face Death-pale — " ah, Ludolf !" From the shore Of that loved lake, in wonder sore, She went with him, but spake no more. Unto her father's castle, straight He led her through the dreadful gate, And felt its iron soon would part Life's heaven from his darken'd heart. Beneath an ancient laurel tree That in the court hung heavily, He paused; and, taking both her hands, Before her silently he stands, TIIE NOBLE HEART. 53 Sighing, and looking in her face. She gazed once round the vacant place, And then the tears gush'd through her eyes — " Ah, why is this?" lost Hulda cries. Still stood the Knight in silence deep : His anguish chokes — he cannot weep. At last he spake — " Oh, image bless'd Of day and night — my hope's sole rest — That I resign thee now, is best. Something there hangs amid the air, Like torches poisoning as they flare, And therefore must I now restore My treasure; nor may I say more. Yet, oh, believe by all thou'st known Of me, in happy days now gone, That in this final act I see My right course — love's necessity. And now, sweet Hulda, let us take A last embrace — I must not make Time pause, or I should ne'er depart." 54 THE NOBLE HEART. Cried Hulda, with a wakening start, " Where go'st thou, then? where dost thou go: And when return'st? — why look'st thou so? Thy looks do cleave my heart in twain — Thy voice doth beat within my brain — And all around me fast doth reel, And hum with many a torturing wheel ! Thou hast a purpose in thine eye — Thou wilt not leave me here to die?" The Knight within his arms enclosed Her form, and tenderly disposed The locks that stray'd about her face; Then, pressing fast in his embrace, Breathed slowly in her ear, with sighs, His passion's farewell memories. " Sweet One," he said, " my early hours, And all the radiance they have seen, Were pass'd amid the sun-lit towers Where I had hoped to see thee queen. TITE NOBLE HEART. 5o I knew that fortune often showers Her blessings from behind a screen, "Where brooding lie destroying powers, Who, at a moment, rush between. Yet all around seemed passing fair; My queen an Angel soon became; How could I dream of tempest air, "While golden clouds bore Thee and Fame? " But fate swept from me earth's fair greenness, And left me standing bare and lone, And slander, with a bitter keenness, Pierced to the marrow of each bone; Yet still I saw thee in the air — My Angel — how could I despair? " What next thou know'st — ah, do I say In air I saw thee — down to me Thou cam'st, and, in my ecstasy, I felt all life was one bless'd day. The Angel I had seen above, Had also lips and arms of love. 56 THE NOBLE HEART. " Now doth a voice shout in mine ear, ' Thy life is but a hollow helm! Scorn shakes pale dust o'er Passion's bier — Rust eats the lightning from thy spear — And plague-winds do thy house o'erwhelm! Thy Hopes are grey, and in their hearts Are thrust envenom'd swords and darts! The Shadows of thy former fame Float by, and wave like blacken'd flame The banners of each battle day — And then to shadowy foes resign! Despair! — despair! — nor slander'd name, Nor ruin could thy soul dismay; But from thy soul-sustaining shrine Thine Angel now is borne away!" What more, he said, in calmer tone, She answer'd only with a moan; What consolations, blessings, prayer, He sought to breathe upon her there, She did not feel, or could not hear; THE NOBLE HEABT. 57 And so he went his wretched way, His cold breast full of heavy clay. The stars their vigil lamps are burning; Thou can'st not see the rising moon ; Through darkness it is upward yearning, And earth lies outstretch'd in a swoon. Ah, couldst thou to thy youth returning, ( tf nature crave a life-long boon, 'Twould be to feel that every sorrow Would change, as day must to the morrow, Or alternate with pleasure soon. But now, yon sad and lonely man Walks as if night were the full span Of all his life — his boundary vague; Meanwhile another deems the morning Will ever bring the same adorning That now o'ergilds the towers of Prague. The shadows on the palace towers, Its crowding roofs and buttress'd walk-, 58 THE NOBLE HEART. Sleep deeply, as when midnight's hours Swept o'er them with their flowing palls. Those towers and walls stretch round a fane, Enclosing it with stone-wrought plan From a gross world — a king's sole gain — Like some vast central talisman. Mark where the grey cathedral spires Spring up from darkness, and display Their summits, touch'd with beaming fires That tell the swift approach of day. Now 'midst the solid forms below Of coigne, slant roof, square slab, or cell, The warm lights creep, then gleam and glow Throughout this palace-citadel. And last, beside the black -bank'd moat, Where tree and weed scarce breathe the air, The light descends through clefts remote, Startling rank boughs with golden hair! From his long range of walls, the king Beheld the sun o'er Prague arise; TUT. NOBLE mi \i!T. 59 And next the crowded marshalling Of gorgeous tools for victories: Nobles, knights, vassals, all his men At arms, and each brave denizen Of Prague, and all Bohemia's towns That sought his love or fear'd his frown-. Against the Emperor now he wars; It is proclaim'd — and this the cause. Rudolf of Hapsburgh long had sway'd "With high dominion; and the shu