| |
| THUS ran the Student’s pleasant rhyme | |
| Of Eginhard and love and youth; | |
| Some doubted its historic truth, | |
| But while they doubted, ne’ertheless | |
| Saw in it gleams of truthfulness, | 5 |
| And thanked the Monk of Lauresheim. | |
| |
| This they discussed in various mood; | |
| Then in the silence that ensued | |
| Was heard a sharp and sudden sound | |
| As of a bowstring snapped in air; | 10 |
| And the Musician with a bound | |
| Sprang up in terror from his chair, | |
| And for a moment listening stood, | |
| Then strode across the room, and found | |
| His dear, his darling violin | 15 |
| Still lying safe asleep within | |
| Its little cradle, like a child | |
| That gives a sudden cry of pain, | |
| And wakes to fall asleep again; | |
| And as he looked at it and smiled, | 20 |
| By the uncertain light beguiled, | |
| Despair! two strings were broken in twain. | |
| |
| While all lamented and made moan, | |
| With many a sympathetic word | |
| As if the loss had been their own, | 25 |
| Deeming the tones they might have heard | |
| Sweeter than they had heard before, | |
| They saw the Landlord at the door, | |
| The missing man, the portly Squire! | |
| He had not entered, but he stood | 30 |
| With both arms full of seasoned wood, | |
| To feed the much-devouring fire, | |
| That like a lion in a cage | |
| Lashed its long tail and roared with rage. | |
| |
| The missing man! Ah, yes, they said, | 35 |
| Missing, but whither had he fled? | |
| Where had he hidden himself away? | |
| No farther than the barn or shed; | |
| He had not hidden himself, nor fled; | |
| How should he pass the rainy day | 40 |
| But in his barn with hens and hay, | |
| Or mending harness, cart, or sled? | |
| Now, having come, he needs must stay | |
| And tell his tale as well as they. | |
| |
| The Landlord answered only: “These | 45 |
| Are logs from the dead apple-trees | |
| Of the old orchard planted here | |
| By the first Howe of Sudbury. | |
| Nor oak nor maple has so clear | |
| A flame, or burns so quietly, | 50 |
| Or leaves an ash so clean and white;” | |
| Thinking by this to put aside | |
| The impending tale that terrified; | |
| When suddenly, to his delight, | |
| The Theologian interposed, | 55 |
| Saying that when the door was closed, | |
| And they had stopped that draft of cold, | |
| Unpleasant night air, he proposed | |
| To tell a tale world-wide apart | |
| From that the Student had just told; | 60 |
| World-wide apart, and yet akin, | |
| As showing that the human heart | |
| Beats on forever as of old, | |
| As well beneath the snow-white fold | |
| Of Quaker kerchief, as within | 65 |
| Sendal or silk or cloth of gold, | |
| And without preface would begin. | |
| |
| And then the clamorous clock struck eight, | |
| Deliberate, with sonorous chime | |
| Slow measuring out the march of time, | 70 |
| Like some grave Consul of Old Rome | |
| In Jupiter’s temple driving home | |
| The nails that marked the year and date. | |
| Thus interrupted in his rhyme, | |
| The Theologian needs must wait; | 75 |
| But quoted Horace, where he sings | |
| The dire Necessity of things, | |
| That drives into the roofs sublime | |
| Of new-built houses of the great | |
| The adamantine nails of Fate. | 80 |
| |
| When ceased the little carillon | |
| To herald from its wooden tower | |
| The important transit of the hour, | |
| The Theologian hastened on, | |
| Content to be allowed at last | 85 |
| To sing his Idyl of the Past. | |
| |
