Beauty, their touch rouses the germ of every green thing to put forth the life that is in it. They are the presiding genii in nature’s grand chemical laboratory. They set the winds in motion; draw up out of the earth mere watery vapour, which, shaped by those winds into a canopy of cloud, they paint with varying hues.
THE MINSTREL’S CURSE.
(FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND.)
In days of old a castle stood high and proud to view,
Over the landscape shining, far as the ocean blue,
Wreath’d all around with gardens, where ’mid the fragrant flowers,
The air was cool’d by fountains, sparkling in rainbow showers.
There sat a haughty monarch, in lands and conquests great,
Upon his throne, wan-visaged, he sat in sullen state;
His thoughts are all of horrors, his eyes are bright with rage;
His words they fall like scourges; he writes, blood stains the page.
Once came there to his castle a noble minstrel pair,
The locks of one were golden—silver the other’s hair;
With harp the old man journey’d, a stately horse astride,
His blooming comrade gaily walk’d by the horse’s side.
The old bespoke the younger: “Prepare, my son, make choice
Of all our songs the deepest—attune thy fullest voice—
Exert thy utmost power—of joy and sorrow sing:
Our aim must be to waken the hard heart of the king.”
Within the Hall of Columns now the two minstrels stand,
Upon his throne the monarch, his queen at his right hand;
The king all dread and stately—a blood red Northern Light,
The queen all sweet and gentle—a full moon shining bright.
The greybeard struck the harp-strings, he struck them wondrous well,
Upon the ear they sounded with rich and richer swell;
Then came the youth’s voice gushing—so heav’nly clear it rang,
And, like a spirit chorus, between the old man sang.
They sang of love and spring-time, of happy golden days,
Of truth and manly honour—they sang in freedom’s praise—
They sang of all things lofty, they sang of all things sweet,
That make men’s bosoms quiver, that make men’s hearts to beat.
