The day sped on and sadly sped,
O'er thoughtful Ulric's lonely head,
And eve her dewy shadows spread,
When from the gay and busy town
He wandered pensive and alone.
Dark thoughts allured—thoughts dark and new;
In vain—in vain he backward drew,
Still through his heated mind they flew.
Steinfort and his mysterious hate,
His uncle—Loulou—his own fate,
Down from his height of fortune hurled,
The gossip of the heartless world.
And, yesterday, for one short hour,
His hand had grasped wealth, splendor, power:
To-day, thrust forth,—a blackened name—
With insult, poverty, and shame.
Onward his musing way he wends,
Along the river's graceful bends,
Along a narrow winding road,
Deep in the forest solitude,
Where, through the massive foliage, broke
A grove of tall and stately oak,
Through whose black shades could scarcely stray,
Or sunny beam, or moon's soft ray.
"By Heaven!" he said, "I was a fool!
I should base Steinfort's worthless soul,
On yestermorn, with one sharp blow,
Have hurried to the shades below!
And, for my uncle, why should I
Mourn him, whene'er he choose to die!
He doth not waste on me one sigh.
His plan with Steinfort he will hold.
I know his nature, proud and bold,
Decided once, his purpose stern,
No human power can ever turn.
Perchance, while idle here I stand,
He tears the will with reckless hand.
I know not, faith, why I should rue,
Had yesterday the news been true!"
Oh, where did Ulric's noble mind
Such base, unwonted fancies find?
His bosom heaved—his cheek grew hot:
Faint reason called—he heeded not.
On, on he trod with haughtier stride.
Ambition, envy, hatred, pride,
Inflame his veins—his bosom swell.
Who deemed that there such monsters dwell?
And in that hour, oh! who can tell,
Before him spread what dangerous sight;
And rose what visions, startling bright,
Love, splendor, glory, power, delight.
As once upon the mountain height!
Thus sunk in thought, by chance he raised
His flashing eyes and upward gazed;
And paused, rebuked, awe-struck, amazed,
As glittering, vast and high,
Unutterable and sublime,
Untouched by change—unworn by time,
World beyond world in myriad bright,
Evolving circles infinite,
He saw the wondrous sky.
"Thou, God!" he said, "dost walk that plain,
And o'er those fields eternal reign,
Each wheeling sphere control;
Mark each far orb, each sparkling sun,
His radiant race, each comet run,
Each system round thee roll."
Far soaring thus his dazzled gaze,
Through boundless heaven's eternal blaze,
While revelations o'er his soul,
Of holiest truth, like morning stole,
A voice he heard, or seemed to hear,
Beyond the farthest starry sphere,
Beyond where fancy ever trod—
"Tremble thou earth—for I am God."
He listened—all his sin he felt,
And prayed that God to guard from guilt.
"In Christ's name! my petition hear;
From earth—from sin my conscience clear!
Let not my steps from virtue stray!
Hold up my goings in thy way!
And where I tread be holy ground!
And may thy angels hover round!
My failing feet, if left alone,
I know may dash against a stone;
Guide me! and keep me for thy own!
I bow my forehead in the dust,
Save from hell's craft, and life's destroying lust!"
Did fancy dream? or did he hear,
Upon the silent, starry air,
A distant strain—and rushing wings—
Sounds as of angel-wanderings!
And, from aerial voices fell
The words? or came from founts that dwell
In his own breast? Oh who can tell?
"Keep thy heart, Ulric, in the strife;
From it the issues are of life.
Be strong! let never sin o'ertake thee
I will not fail thee nor forsake thee."
Scarce ceased the words, when through the trees,
Came mingling voices on the breeze,
And close at hand surprised he sees
His uncle and Count Steinfort ride;
A single groom is at their side;
From their long hunt but just returned,
And yet his foe with vengeance burned.
For Steinfort's scornful lips did say:
"Like a foul reptile, from thy way,
Forth thrust him!" and the uncle cried;
"To-night he's disinherited—
No nephew more of mine!
By this, the will must ready be.
Come on and soon thyself shall see
How gladly I will sign.
Good Steinfort! o'er my silver brow,
I've seen some sixty winters flow,
And, by our Lady! yet,
Did never, in my whole life long,
Insult—no matter what—or wrong,
E'er pardon or forget."
He had not ceased when fiercely sprang
Five lusty ruffians out with clang
Of cursing voice and clashing blade
That gleamed above each startled head,
And glittered through the night.
"Your money or your life, my men"
And every word a blow, and then
All furious broke the fight.
Crushed soon by odds might well astound,
The groom lay bleeding on the ground,
And the bloodthirsty miscreants drew
In narrower circle round the two.
'Twas fearful odds—'twas deadly strife;
'Twas blow for blow, and life for life—
When, for one moment petrified,
As if by magic, at his side,
To see such sudden vision rise,
With devilish hopes to lure his eyes;
And, had he but one moment more
Refrained—the will—the wealth were sure—
Ulric, off! off! in horror, threw
The thought, that back his falchion drew,
The black, the execrable thought,
By what infernal demon taught!
Again—again—before him brought—
Leaped forward, and with earnest blow,
Cleft through the head his uncle's foe,
And then laid bleeding Steinfort's low;
Both, if abandoned to their fate,
Had passed, that night, death's bloody gate.
The three survivors, mad with rage,
At once their single foe engage;
But fought in vain, for met they here
No feeble, white-haired cavalier,
And shrunk before far other brand,
Than waved in Steinfort's helpless hand.
Like lightning struck, with fearful ire,
And many a spark of heavy fire,
Struck sharp and deadly, Ulric's blade;
And many a ghastly gash it made,
As cool as if it idly played
At fencing bout in noonday glade.
Such hand must conquer, had been there
Full twice as many as there were;
And that they found full soon, for flight
Sought never, in more desperate plight,
The frightened deer, pursued by hounds,
Their booty, only dripping wounds—
While three upon the trampled field,
With curses deep, their life-blood yield.