Little streams are light and shadow,
Flowing through the pasture meadow,
Flowing by the green way-side,
Through the forest dim and wide,
Through the hamlet still and small–
By the cottage, by the hall,
By the ruined abbey still;
Turning here and there a mill,
Bearing tribute to the river–
Little streams, I love you ever.
Summer music is there flowing
Flowering plants in them are growing;
Happy life is in them all,
Creatures, innocent and small;
Little birds come down to drink,
Fearless of their leafy brink ;
Noble trees beside them grow,
Glooming them with branches low;
And between, the sunshine, glancing
In their little waves, is dancing.
Little streams have flowers a many,
Beautiful and fair as any;
Typha strong, and green bur-reed ;
Willow-herb, with cotton-seed;
Arrow-head, with eye of jet ;
And the water-violet.
There the flowering rush you meet,
And the plumy meadow-sweet ;
And, in places deep and stilly,
Marble-like, the water-lily.
Little streams, their voices cheery,
Sound forth welcomes to the weary,
Flowing on from day to day,
Without stint and without stay;
Here, upon their flowery bank,
In the old time, pilgrims drank—
Here have seen, as now, pass by,
Kingfisher and dragonfly ;
Those bright things that have their dwelling,
Where the little streams are welling.
Down in valleys green and lowly,
Murmuring not, and gliding slowly:
Up in mountain-hollows wild,
Fretting like a peevish child;
Through the hamlet, where all day,
In their waves, the children play;
Running west, or running east,
Doing good to man and beast—
Always giving, weary never,
Little streams, I love you ever.
On, on unto the topmost verge of power;
And, as I yet ascend, still more doth grow
The grasping wish for more;-the aspiring wish
Higher and higher to rise. This petty lordship,
Why not a sovereign dukedom? Wherefore not
The Duke of Maine as good as Duke of Suabia?
And Kronberg dead; the path is right before me.
Ambition and revenge shall have their way!-
But where is Gaston? he, the ready tool
Who does not start and cry “alack, my lord!”
Ha! here he comes!
Gaston
.mw-parser-output ._ditto{display:inline-block;position:relative;text-indent:0}.mw-parser-output .dittohidden{visibility:hidden;color:transparent;white-space:nowrap}.mw-parser-output ._dittotext{display:inline-block;position:absolute;left:0;width:100%;white-space:nowrap}.mw-parser-output ._dittotextalignleft{text-align:left}.mw-parser-output ._dittotextalignright{text-align:right}.mw-parser-output ._dittotextalignjustify{text-align:justify;text-align-last:justify}.mw-parser-output ._dittotextaligncenter{text-align:center}.mw-parser-output ._dittotextoverflowhidden{overflow:hidden}.mw-parser-output ._dittotextoverflowvisible{overflow:visible}Ha! here he comes!No moment may be lost-
Fabian and Segbert, and Count Nicholas
Are hence. As firebrands in the standing corn
Are they among the people; and a rumour
Has reached the town, that Suabia draweth near
With a strong army for the aid of Kronberg.
Do quickly what thou dost, and rid thyself
Of one foe ere another takes the field!
Philip.
Thou hast access unto the tower. Go thou,
Poison or steel, use thou the surer means!
Gaston
Nay, ‘twill be tenfold vengeance from thy hand.
Philip. (feeling at his dagger).
’Tis sharp and true, but do thou mix a cup
Of subtle poison. I would liefer that—
And if he will not pledge me, why, there’s this!
Gaston
I’ll mix a cunning potion that will do.
Enter the Lord of Maine.
My son! my son! hast thou decreed his death?
Philip.
I have.
Lord oF Maine.
Didst thou not love his gentle angel daughter?
Remember her, and do not harm his life.
Gaston
And be himself the victim!
Lord oF Maine.
And be himself the victim!It is thou
That counsellest my son to these bad deeds !
Philip, she gave me life and liberty,
And but for her, thy father had been dead !
Philip.
Whose hate was’t doomed thee to the gallows-tree?
Hence ! hence! thou dost not know, for urgently
The hour calls for his blood!
Lord oF Maine.
The hour calls for his blood!I leave thee not,
Till thou hast given his life unto my prayer.
Gaston, to Philip.
Fortune is slipping through your hand, my lord,
While you stand dallying thus. Away, old man!
Gaston
I'm ready. Let’s begone.
(They go out together).
Lord oF Maine.
I'm ready. Let’s begone.Then, may the Avenger
Take from thee thy ill-gotten power and station!
This is a place of blood and horrible outrage:
I will away; men’s hearts are turned to stone.
Better it were to hide with desert-beasts,
Where ’tis a natural instinct to be cruel!
(He goes out).
(After a short time re-enter Philip).
Philip.
I did not quail, nor did my heart upbraid me,
When thousands lay beneath my conquering step,
And from the helmet-crown unto the heel
I was dyed crimson; why then faints my soul,
Trembling and drooping ’neath a mountain’s weight
Of miserable remorse for one man’s blood?—
Ne'er till this moment, when my debt is paid,
When I have conquered my great enemy,
Quailed I, or wished undone aught that was done!
But hark ! what sounds are these—quick, coming steps
And hurried voices? Am I grown a coward?
Enter Gaston
Philip ! Philip! now is a time for action:
Why dost thou stare as one who walks in dreams?
Philip.
Whence come those hurried sounds? Whose are those
steps?
Gaston
The disaffected thousands from the fields
Are on the walls—within the very castle!
Philip.
How got they access?
Gaston
By the old rock-path. HundEven as thou didst;
By the old rock-path. Hundreds more have entered—
Thy portals have they fired; and hark their cries—
Vengeance and blood!
Philip.
And man the walHence; draw the soldiers out,
And man the walls. Strike every villain down
That sets his foot within the castle gate.
Gaston
They fight with us for every inch of ground;
They are within the walls—the place is fired;
Accursed knaves, born for the gibbet-tree!
Philip. , drawing his sword.
I'll teach them what the cry of vengeance meaneth!
(He rushes out— Gaston follows him).
(A confused noise, and yelling cries are heard
approaching, and a rabble force thetr way in,
with torches in their hands).