Myth and Romance | Page 9

torrents and glimmering haze,?And sheep-bells tinkling on mountain ways,?And fluting shepherds make sweet the days.
The rolling mist, like a wandering fleece,?The great round moon in a mountain crease,?And a song of love make the nights all peace.
Beneath the blue Tyrolean skies?On the banks of the Inn, that foams and flies,?The storied city of Innsbruck lies.
With its mediaeval streets, that crook,?And its gabled houses, it has the look?Of a belfried town in a fairy-book.
So wild the Tyrol that oft, 'tis said,?When the storm is out and the town in bed,?The howling of wolves sweeps overhead.
And oft the burgher, sitting here?In his walled rose-garden, hears the clear?Shrill scream of the eagle circling near.
And this is the tale that the burghers tell:--?The Abbot of Wiltau stood at his cell?Where the Solstein lifts its pinnacle.
A mighty summit of bluffs and crags?That frowns on the Inn; where the forest stags?Have worn a path to the water-flags.
The Abbot of Wiltau stood below;?And he was aware of a plume and bow?On the precipice there in the morning's glow.
A chamois, he saw, from span to span?Had leapt; and after it leapt a man;?And he knew 't was the Kaiser Maxmilian.
But, see! though rash as the chamois he,?His foot less sure. And verily?If the King should miss ... "Jesu, Marie!
"The King hath missed!"--And, look, he falls!?Rolls headlong out to the headlong walls.?What saint shall save him on whom he calls?
What saint shall save him, who struggles there?On the narrow ledge by the eagle's lair,?With hooked hands clinging 'twixt earth and air?
The Abbot, he crosses himself in dread--?"Let prayers go up for the nearly dead,?And the passing-bell be tolled," he said.
"For the House of Hapsburg totters; see,?How raveled the thread of its destiny,?Sheer hung between cloud and rock!" quoth he.
But hark! where the steeps of the peak reply,?Is it an eagle's echoing cry??And the flitting shadow, its plumes on high?
No voice of the eagle is that which rings!?And the shadow, a wiry man who swings?Down, down where the desperate Kaiser clings.
The crampons bound to his feet, he leaps?Like a chamois now; and again he creeps?Or twists, like a snake, o'er the fearful deeps.
"By his cross-bow, baldrick, and cap's black curl,"?Quoth the Abbot below, "I know the churl!?'T is the hunted outlaw Zyps of Zirl.
"Upon whose head, or dead or alive,?The Kaiser hath posted a price.--Saints shrive?The King!" quoth Wiltau. "Who may contrive
"To save him now that his foe is there?"--?But, listen! again through the breathless air?What words are those that the echoes bear?
"Courage, my King!--To the rescue, ho!"?The wild voice rings like a twanging bow,?And the staring Abbot stands mute below.
And, lo! the hand of the outlaw grasps?The arm of the King--and death unclasps?Its fleshless fingers from him who gasps.
And how he guides! where the clean cliffs wedge?Them flat to their faces; by chasm and ledge?He helps the King from the merciless edge.
Then up and up, past bluffs that shun?The rashest chamois; where eagles sun?Fierce wings and brood; where the mists are spun.
And safe at last stand Kaiser and churl?On the mountain path where the mosses curl--?And this the revenge of Zyps of Zirl.
_The?Glowworm_
How long had I sat there and had not beheld?The gleam of the glow-worm till something compelled!...
The heaven was starless, the forest was deep,?And the vistas of darkness stretched silent in sleep.
And late 'mid the trees had I lingered until?No thing was awake but the lone whippoorwill.
And haunted of thoughts for an hour I sat?On a lichen-gray rock where the moss was a mat.
And thinking of one whom my heart had held dear,?Like terrible waters, a gathering fear.
Came stealing upon me with all the distress?Of loss and of yearning and powerlessness:
Till the hopes and the doubts and the sleepless unrest?That, swallow-like, built in the home of my breast,
Now hither, now thither, now heavenward flew,?Wild-winged as the winds are: now suddenly drew
My soul to abysses of nothingness where?All light was a shadow, all hope, a despair:
Where truth, that religion had set upon high,?The darkness distorted and changed to a lie:
And dreams of the beauty ambition had fed?Like leaves of the autumn fell blighted and dead.
And I rose with my burden of anguish and doom,?And cried, "O my God, had I died in the womb!
"Than born into night, with no hope of the morn,?An heir unto shadows, to live so forlorn!
"All effort is vain; and the planet called Faith?Sinks down; and no power is real but death.
"Oh, light me a torch in the deepening dark?So my sick soul may follow, my sad heart may mark!"--
And then in the darkness the answer!--It came?From Earth not from Heaven--a glimmering flame,
Behold, at my feet! In the shadow it shone?Mysteriously lovely and dimly alone:
An ember; a sparkle of dew and of glower;?Like the lamp that a spirit hangs under a flower:
As goldenly green as the phosphorus star?A fairy may wear in her diadem's