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The strings were hush’d—the knights made way
For the queenly mother's tread, As up the hall, in dark array,
Two fair-hair'd boys she led.
She led them ev'n to the Kaiser's place,
And still before him stood;
Flush'd the proud warrior-blood :
“Wherefore this mourning vest ? And the clinging children by thy side,
In weeds of sadness drest ?"
“Well may a mourning vest be mine,
And theirs, my son, my son !
In each fair little one!
Hath tamed the dancing glee,
Thy brother's children see!
“And where is he, thy brother, where?
He in thy home that grew,
Ever to greet thee flew ?
His fond lips press thy brow!
Thou hast no brother now!
“What! from their gentle eyes doth nought
Speak of thy childhood's hours, And smite thee with a tender thought
Of thy dead father's towers ? Kind was thy boyish heart and true,
When rear'd together there, Through the old woods like fawns ye flew
Where is thy brother-where?
“Well didst thou love him then, and he
Still at thy side was seen ;
Evil was this world's breath, which came
Between the good and brave !
Be offer'd to the grave.
“ And let them, let them there be pour'd!
Though all unfelt below,
Shall soften as they flow.
Now bid his work be done!
Take, take these babes, my son !”
His eye was dimm’d—the strong man shook
With feelings long suppressid ; Up in his arms the boys he took,
And strain'd them to his breast. And a shout from all in the royal hall
Burst forth to hail the sight; And eyes were wet, 'midst the brave that met
At the Kaiser's feast that night.
ULLA, OR THE ADJURATION.
Yet speak to me! I have outwatch'd the stars,
“ Thou 'rt gone thou 'rt slumbering low,
With the sounding seas above thee; It is but a restless wo,
But a haunting dream to love thee! Thrice the glad swan has sung,
To greet the spring-time hours, Since thine oar at parting fung
The white spray up in showers.
There's a shadow of the grave on thy hearth and round
thy home; Come to me from the ocean’s dead !—thou ’rt surely of
'Twas Ulla's voice-alone she stood
In the Iceland summer night,
From a dark rock's beetling height.
“I know thou hast thy bed
Where the sea-weed's coil hath bound thee;
But the depths are hush'd around thee.
To the chambers where thou ’rt lying?
If thou thought'st on me in dying ?
cheekCome to me from the ocean's dead !-thou ’rt surely of