The Trumpeter of Sakkingen Part 20

"Wicked man," said Margaretta, "That a fresh stroke from a halberd Should be crossing your old scar, and That--but do you know who suffered Keenly for your daring conduct?

Do you know whose tears were flowing?

Would you once more give the order: Lower drawbridge! if I begged you: Werner stay and do remember The poor suffering Margaretta?

If I--," but she was not able Further to spin out her sentence.

What the mouth spoke not, the eyes said; What the eyes said not, the heart did.

Dreamily young Werner lifted Unto her his raptured gaze: "Am I dying, or is doubly My young life to me now given?"

In each other's arms they flew then, Sought each other's lips with ardour, And transported, pressed upon them Love's first kiss, so sweet and blissful.

Golden-purple streamed the sunlight Through the shady trees' high summits, Down upon two happy beings-- On young Werner's pallid features, On the lovely blus.h.i.+ng maiden.

Love's first kiss so sweet and blissful!

Thinking of thee, joy and sorrow Both steal o'er me; joy, that also I have once thy nectar tasted, Sorrow, that but once we taste it!

For thy sake I wished to cull from Language, all the fairest flowers, For a wreath unto thine honour; But, instead of words rose visions Clear before me, and they led me Far to float o'er time and s.p.a.ce.

First I soared to Eden's garden, When the new-born world was lying In its pristine youthful freshness, When its age by days was reckoned.

Evening came, a rosy light spread O'er the sky, while in the river's Waves the sun to rest sank slowly; On the sh.o.r.e, in merry frolic, Graceful animals were playing.

Through the shady paths 'neath palm-trees The first human couple walked.

Wide through s.p.a.ce they gazed in silence, 'Mid the holy peace of evening; In each other's eyes they looked then, And their lips did meet.

Then I saw before me rising.

Visions of quite different aspect; Dark the sky, rain-storm and lightning, Mountains bursting, from the dark depths Foaming waters rus.h.i.+ng upward.

Flooded over is the ancient Mother Earth, and she is dying.

To the cliffs the waves are rolling, To the old man and his consort, To the two last living mortals.

Now a flash--I saw them smiling, Then embracing, without speaking, Ever kissing. Night then--roaring, Did the flood engulf these beings.

This I saw, and well I know now, That a kiss outweighs all language, Is, though mute, love's song of songs.

And when words fail, then the singer Should be silent; therefore silent He returns now to the garden.

On the stone steps of the terrace Lay the worthy Hiddigeigei; And with great amazement saw he, How his mistress and young Werner Were each other fondly kissing.

Grumbling said he to himself then: "Often have I meditated On great problems hard to settle, Which my cat-heart fully fathomed; But there's one which yet remaineth Quite unsolved, uncomprehended: Why do people kiss each other?

Not from hatred, not from hunger, Else they'd bite and eat each other; Neither can it be an aimless Nonsense, for they are in general Wise, and know well what they're doing.

Why then is it, I ask vainly, Why do people kiss each other?

Why do mostly so the youthful?

And why mostly so in Spring-time?

Over all these knotty questions, I intend to ponder further, On the gable-roof to-morrow."

Margaretta plucked some roses, Took then Werner's hat, and gaily With the fairest ones adorned it.

"Poor pale man, till there are blooming On your own cheeks just such roses, On your hat you'll have to wear them.

But now tell me, wherefore is it That I do so dearly love you?

Not a word you ere have spoken, That could show me that you loved me.

Sometimes only shy and bashful Did you raise at me your glances, And sometimes you played before me.

Is it, then, your country's custom, That a woman's love is won there, Without words by trumpet-blowing?"

"Margaretta, sweetest darling,"

Said young Werner, "could I venture?

You appeared to me so saint-like, In your flowing, snow-white garments.

At the feast of Fridolinus.

'Twas your glance which made me enter In your n.o.ble father's service; And your favour was the suns.h.i.+ne Which my daily life illumined.

Ah! there by the mountain-lake once, On my head was placed a garland.

'Twas love's crown of thorns you gave me, And in silence I have worn it.

Could I speak, O could the homeless Trumpeter his yearnings utter Boldly to fair Margaretta?

Unto you as to an angel, Who is guarding us poor mortals Did I look in silent wors.h.i.+p, And I wished in your dear service Here to die beneath the chestnuts.

From that fate you have preserved me, Unto life and health restored me, Made my life now doubly precious, As I know your love adorns it.

Take me then! Since you did give me That first burning kiss, I only Live through you, belong to you now, Margaretta--ever thine!"

"Thine, yes, thine," said Margaretta; "What stiff barriers are erected By our words! Belong to you now-- What a solemn cold expression.

Ever thine! 'tis thus love speaketh.

No more you; _thou_, heart to heart pressed, Lips to lips, that is his language; Therefore, Werner, let another Kiss now seal it"--and their lips met.

In the sky the moon first s.h.i.+neth, Then by countless stars is followed; So the first kiss, when once given, Is by hosts of others followed.

But how many were by stealth robbed And paid duly back with interest, All this doth my song keep secret.

Poetry and dry statistics Are, alas, not on good terms.

Also Anton came now hurrying Through the garden with a message: "The three ladies from the convent, Who the first of May went with us To the fis.h.i.+ng, send their greeting To your gracious ladys.h.i.+p, and Also make most kind inquiries For the health of Master Werner, Who, they trust, will soon amend."

THIRTEENTH PART.

WERNER SUES FOR MARGARETTA.

Night, how long and full of terror!

When thou bring'st not to the weary With thy shades refres.h.i.+ng slumber, And sweet dreams to comfort him.

Restlessly his thoughts are delving In the past's great heaps of rubbish, Where they rake up many fragments Of his former life, and nowhere Can his eyes abide with pleasure; Only gloomy spectres rise up, Which the sunlight soon would banish.

Unrefreshed, next to the future Roves the mind from which sweet sleep flies; Forges plans, takes resolutions, Builds up proud and airy castles; But like owls and bats are flying All around them hosts of doubts which Drive away all hope and courage.

From the tower-clock struck midnight.

On his couch was lying sleepless Werner in the turret-chamber; Through the window beaming faintly Fell a narrow ray of moonlight, While beneath the Rhine did rush.

And the sleepless brain of Werner Is by dream-like visions haunted.

Once it seemed to him like Sunday; Bells are pealing, horses neighing, Toward the Schwarzwald goes a wedding, He walks at the head as bridegroom, By his side is Margaretta; And she wears a wreath of myrtle.

In the village loud rejoicings, And the roads and village street are All with flowers overstrewn.

In his priestly robes is standing By the church-door the old Pastor Blessing, beckoning him to enter-- But the vision's thread broke off here For a new one: He imagined At the door there was a knocking; And now enters the odd figure Of his dear old friend Perkeo, With his red nose s.h.i.+ning brightly In the dimly-lighted chamber; And he speaks with husky voice thus: "Oh, my lad, with love don't meddle!

Love's a fire which consumeth Him who kindles it, completely; And thou art no charcoal-burner!

Come then home to the clear Neckar, Come with me to my old wine-tun, Which contains good stuff sufficient All thy love-flames to put out."

Next he seems to be transported To an Eastern field of battle.

Cries of Allah, sabres whirring; And he soon strikes down a Pashaw From his horse, and brings the crescent To the general, Prince Eugene, Who then claps him on the shoulder: "Well done, my Imperial captain!"

From the battle-field his dreaming Flies back to the days of childhood, And his nurse sings in the garden: "Squirrel climbs up on the blackthorn, Squirrel goes up to the tree-top, Squirrel falls into his grave.

Had he not so high ascended, Then his fall had been less heavy, Had not broken then his leg."

Thus disturbed by all this dreaming, Werner sprang up of a sudden, With long strides walked through his chamber; And his mind was troubled always By the same portentous question: "Shall I ask the Baron for her?"

Love well-nigh appeared to him now Just like stolen fruit; he felt that, Like a thief, before the day broke, He had better leave the castle.

But just then the sun was rising, With the beauty of a bridegroom In the blush of early morning.

"Be ashamed, my heart, great coward!

Yes, I'll ask him," cried young Werner.

At his breakfast sat the Baron Poring deeply o'er a letter Which the day before was brought him By a messenger from Suabia, From the Danube; where through narrow Valleys the young stream is flowing, And steep limestone rocks are rising From the water which reflects them With their verdant crowns of beech-trees; Thence the man had come on horseback.