Morning! It tints the eastern sky,
To cloud and hill-top silently
Its fiery arrows glancing fly.
Morning! in earliest loveliness,
With all its glory and its peace.
But not more peaceful nature lay,
In the deep calm of opening day,
And not more glorious streamed the east
With radiant light, than Ulric's breast;
The peace of prayer—and from above,
The light of mercy and of love.
Already, at the castle gate,
Behold the warlike charger wait;
His eyes of fire he rolls around,
Impatient neighs and paws the ground.
So stands, when rings the trumpet's sound
As if his breast instinctive knew
His task to bear that lov'd lord through,
Not sabre flash and cannon roar,
But battle field, o'er which, before,
No steed his rider ever bore.
"Oh Sultan, let thy limbs be fleet!"
He said, and vaulted to his seat.
When lo! he sees before him stand
Hubert, and laughing seize his hand!
"Ho! ho! young firebrand! whither now?
I counsel on thy way to go
Somewhat more wisely and more slow."
"Good friend, farewell!" "Tut! tut! By Jove
Another inch thou dost not move!"
"Hubert, I thank thee! But adieu!
Thy friendly feeling well I knew.
Yet now my sober plans compel
To speed away. Farewell! farewell!"
Quoth Hubert, "Ha! and is it so?
In Heaven's name then, Ulric, go!
A plague on all thy schemes!
But first, my blessing take with thee,
And all the more, for that, I see,
In these last weeks, 'twixt thee and me,
Young man, a shadow seems.
I know not what, nor greatly care.
Some men, ha! ha! like women are,
And flaunt their friends with changeful mood,
And slight their host for solitude.
And must, with visage long and dark,
Be humored too, Heaven save the mark!
But of one thing, at least, I'm sure,
Whate'er thou choose to do,
Ulric, thy mind, as snow, is pure.
Thy heart, as steel, is true.
So fare thee well! One last embrace.
Though somewhat sad, we'll miss thy face.
Forget us not—where'er thou be,
May God's best blessing rest on thee!"
Three kisses warm their friendship speak.
No Judas' lips pressed Hubert's cheek.
Flashed Ulric's eyes with conscious fire,
But did not droop their rays.
Thank God! they had no need retire
From friendship's trustful gaze.
Not all the lusts of wealth and power,
That hollow worldlings prove,
Not pleasure's light and fading flower,
Not proud ambition's loftiest hour,
Not all the sweets of love,
Can pay the coward meanness felt,
Deep to the heart, by conscious guilt,
When eyes of friend or neighbor greet,
With honest glance it dare not meet,
Can give the peace, the pure delight,
The secret joy of acting right.
"I thank thee Hubert. If I know
Myself there is no shadow now
'Twixt thee and me, but clear sunshine,
And a true heart completely thine,
From every coldness free;
And if in coming years thou e'er
Need friend life's heavy grief to share,
Its pangs to sooth—its storms to dare—
Hubert, remember me!"
"Now, Sultan, speed! forward!”
And swift on his way
Sprang the courser, impatient
His lord to obey.
Like mists of the morning,
That pass on the wind,
The terrace—the castle—
Are melting behind.
By vale and by forest,
By meadow and lawn,
Like an arrow the steed
And his rider sped on;
Nor e'er looked behind them,
As breathless they flew,
Beneath branches all fragrant
And dripping with dew.
And onward and onward
They hurry in flight,
Through air thick with perfume,
By cliffs bathed in light.
Already—already—
That castle so dear,
Its walls—they are hidden,
Its towers disappear,
And still, like an eagle,
The sky cleaving through,
Still swifter and farther
And farther they flew—
When Sultan stopped. Oh Tempter! thou
Didst check him on that mountain brow,
Where broke once more upon his view,
The morn's aerial softness through,
With a strange power—that heavenly scene,
Where his blest feet with hers had been,
Each skyey mountain gleaming there—
An azure dream—half earth, half air—
Each rock and hill that swelled so sweet,
Round happy Rudolph's castle seat;
Each silvery steep, and deepening shade—
Each charm, by morning tenderer made,
New secret joy impart.
Each meadowy vale of that soft day—
Each well-known wood—each wandering way,
All bright, again their fatal sway
Wind round his yielding heart.
Long, long he gazed, with spell-bound eyes,
With heaving breast and bursting sighs—
His high resolves forgot.
And now again, on love's deep tide,
As some wrecked vessel doth he ride—
No hope to cheer, no voice to guide—
Good angels, leave him not!
Once more he Satan's breath receives.
On Sultan's neck the rein he leaves,
And vaulting from his seat,
Down cast him on the unconscious ground,
And kissed the mossy rocks around,
The rugged trees her eyes had seen,
The silent path where she had been;
The dewy flowers, the velvet green,
Touched by her sacred feet.
Then sunk in shame his lofty head,
He wept, such tears as never shed
Unhappy warrior yet,
But he who strove, and strove in vain,
To free his soul from sin's foul stain,
And hell's infernal net.
Then starting up, a voice he heard;
His quivering lips repeat the word—
"Death!" and leaped forth his glittering sword,
"Receive me, endless night!
Oh earth! whose sweets around me lie,
So calm, so fresh—farewell! I die.
Oh balmy air; oh azure sky!
Farewell, oh radiant light!
And thou, who never canst be mine,
Sweet and beloved Emiline!
My sword shall break thy potent spell;
I die for thee!—farewell, farewell!
When, in thy forest solitude,
The crimson sunset fills the wood,
If thou shouldst rove, where once we roved,
Oh love not thou as I have loved;
But may thy beauty never know
What mischiefs from its sweetness flow.”
Now, with stern hand, in cruel haste,
He turned against his aching breast,
The glittering instrument of death.
One moment more—he yields his breath,
When, hark! soft floating on the gale
Came, silver sweet, across the vale,
Another voice:
"Ulric, forbear!
Put up thy sword: it is a snare!
Thy foe, the Evil One, is there.
He plies thy soul with wild desires—
With madd'ning thoughts, with devilish fires:
Unveil him to the Christian's eye!
Look, Ulric, look!—on Heaven rely—
Resist the fiend, and he will fly!"
He looked—oh God!—there stood at last,
Revealed, the power that held him fast.
"Save me, in Christ’s great name!" he cried,
For he saw plainly at his side,
Half mist, half shadow, silent cling,
A monstrous and a loathsome thing,
Twine round him its abhorrent arms,
And, unrebuked, weave all its charms;
While its foul lips their poison dear
Still poured into his listening ear.
Quick gleamed the sword—yet not the blade,
But the deep prayer, repentant said,
With holy faith and humble wind,
Forced the reluctant, clasping fiend
To loose, at last, its leach-like hold,
And free the warrior, pure and bold,
Who sometimes yielded, nearly thrown
The giddy mountain headlong down,
But still resisted.
"Off! no more,
Deceitful horror!
I adore
At thy foul shrine
Of sin and shame.
Dark demon, back!
In Christ's great name,
I break thy spell,
I rend thy net,
I tread thee, hell,
Beneath my feet!"
Then fed the monster with amaze;
His spells dispersed, his power gone,
Retreated from the steady gaze
Of his strong foe—and plunging down
The lofty mountain's beetling height,
Regained once more that vale of light,
Where, throned in peace and beauty, sat
The lordly Schloss of Rudolstadt.
Kneel, Ulric, kneel!—not now to kiss,
With burning thirst for earthly bliss,
The meadow she had trod:
A higher rapture filled his breast,
A calm content, a holy rest;
And all his heart a voice confessed—
Worship one only God!
For round about their steps that fear,
An angel makes, encamping near,
The blind to see—the deaf to hear,
And the Lord's secret know.
Hark! Ulric, hark! thy charger's neigh
Warns in this scene no ling'ring stay:
Touch not, taste not—obey! obey!
Up! up! stern duty calls! away!
Nor tempt thy watchful foe.
He leaped to the saddle,
Nor needed to chide
The courser, which flew,
In his swiftness and pride,
As if the good angels,
Around him that pressed,
Lent wings to his fleetness,
And fire to his breast.
Still onward, still onward,
Outstripping the wind,
He leaves that dear valley—
He leaves it behind;
And her, whom he names not,
Her image outcast,
He shakes from his bosom,
Like dew on the blast.
Oh space! with thy mountains,
And clouds, intervene!
Oh time! in sweet mercy
Thy years roll between!
On, Sultan! To heaven
Is lifted his brow:
Speed! speed!—'tis from hell's gates
Thou bearest him now.