CLXIV.THE HEIRESS OF GÖSTING.
I
Is there a stream on this sweet earth
In vale or woodland, where
Traditions of unhappy love
Breathe not like summer air?
II
There is no thought to hallow earth
With more consoling gladness
Than the true comfort she hath given
To lovers in their sadness.
III
Green trees and streams and castled steeps
Are sweetest when they move,
The gentle forms in stirring songs
Of old disastrous love.
IV
Born of no time or nation, still,
In its imperial force,
Love with the meekest forms of earth
Holds simple intercourse.
V
Love, like the abbey-building monks,
By wood or stream is found:
Who ever knew a love-tale haunt
A cold, unsightly ground?
VI
A pilgrim through green Steyermark,
The poet now is resting,
Soothed by the woodland voice of Mur,
Beneath the rock of Gösting.
VII
Across the river and the mead
The cliff's tall shade was thrown,
Where sheltered from the sun I sat
Upon a rugged stone.
VIII
A tender tale of luckless love
In that sweet gloom had part,
And with the shadow of the rock
It went into my heart.
IX
Above were the green battlements
Of Gösting's castle strong;
I saw it not, but felt it there,
A very power of song.
X
Ah! faith hath wronged thee, gentle tower!
Thou wert too fair to shine
The bright spot in the legend dark
Of hapless Adeline.
XI
Was ever maid like Adeline
In all the Styrian land?
Was ever noble stout and wise
As old Count Ferdinand?
XII
Had ever knight a silver tongue
His lady's heart to melt,
And yet a hand in battle strong,
Like Franz of Lilienfeld?
XIII
Was ever peer in paynim war
So merciful and bold,
As the young lord of Shackenstein,
The black-haired Leopold?
XIV
Ah! like a pensive summer cloud
Their memory floateth by,
Far dearer for the shade it casts
Than all the bright blue sky.
XV
E'en in those strong-featured times,
When human act and feeling
Through all the world with ruder ways
And greater forms were dealing,
XVI
For masculine chivalric love
The two young knights were famed,
And never in the court or camp
Were separately named.
XVII
And oft to Träusen's earth-lipped stream
Came Leopold, a guest,
Within the halls of Lilienfeld
For many a week to rest.
XVIII
And when brave Franz returned to stay
With Shackenstein's young earl,
How short were summer's longest days
Within the vale of Thörl!
XIX
In boyhood when their limbs were first
In little mail arrayed,
In fashion, colour, and in weight
Their suits alike were made.
XX
Both flashed among the Styrian vales,
Like very stars of light,
Upon their proud and prancing steeds
Of true Hungarian white.
XXI
In all the Transylvanian wars
They shared one board and tent,
And shone with fellow scarfs and plumes
At foreign tournament.
XXII
Ah love! were all the lives of men
Told truly one by one,
The hearts thou hast dealt fairly with,
And those thou hast undone,
XXIII
At what a price of others' griefs,
We might with awe behold,
Each single hour of happy love
On earth is bought or sold!
XXIV
Two tender hearts along one path
Through all the world may move,
If they at some fair turn in life
Encounter not with love.
XXV
There is no incense half so sweet
Unto the jealous power,
As the sad fragrance offered up
From friendship's withered flower.
XXVI
But Franz apart at Lilienfeld,
The earl at Shackenstein,
Each knew not how the other loved
The heiress Adeline.
XXVII
Count Ferdinand to Hungary
On mission high hath gone,
And Adeline has to herself
The castle huge and lone.
XXVIII
A lady lone was Adeline
Within her river bower,
Yet, dreaming of young Leopold,
She had no weary hour.
XXIX
She worked not at her tapestry,
Nor on her cithern played,
But to her bowerwoman oft
The heartsick lady said:
XXX
“Now do I envy, Marian,
That pleasant vale of Thörl,
The very rocks and trees that look
All day at that young earl.
XXXI
“And yet,” how pale the lady turned!
“He never can be mine,
I love with hopeless hidden love,
Ah woe is Adeline!
XXXII
“In all the vales of Steyermark,
In rich Carinthia's dells,
The love of Franz and Leopold
A household wonder dwells.
XXXIII
“And every maiden loves the pair
As though they were her own,
And did belong unto the land,
The special boast of none.
XXXIV
“And Franz sits mute at Lilienfeld,
And pines for love of me;
He is a fair-tongued knight, and yet
The earl speaks fair as he.
XXXV
“I vow, our Lady grant that love
My vow may never shake,
That Adeline their wondrous bond
Shall never, never break.
XXXVI
“And I for some few weary years
Upon this rock will pine,
And live and speak with those two knights,
And die and make no sign.
XXXVII
“And, when his heiress droops and dies,
The good Count Ferdinand
To Mary and St. Kilian
May leave his woody land.”
XXXVIII
This Adeline, the lady lone,
Unto her bowermaid said,
And she was pale as death itself,
And mutely hung her head.
XXXIX
But hark! two horsemen loudly greet
The porter gray and old,
And blithe the seneschal replies;
'Tis Franz and Leopold.
XL
And, privileged intruders! see
They part the chestnut bough,
And doff their caps to Adeline:
Now lady! for thy vow!
XLI
And pale as death! O ashy pale!
But quiet as a queen,
The lady from her bower stepped forth
With calm and gracious mien.
XLII
In converse sweet on common things
They walked among the flowers;
The summer day turned on its hinge
With soft and noiseless hours.
XLIII
Upon the white rose by the rock
There grew one blossom fair,
Which Franz in idle mirth had said
Would suit his long brown hair.
XLIV
And Adeline from sorrow won,
Forgetful of her vow,
Stooped down unto the blossom white,
And plucked it from the bough.
XLV
And surely utterly entranced,
Yet so the tale is told,
She twined it in the raven hair
Of her own Leopold.
XLVI
Franz gazed on her with startled eye,
The young earl fondly smiled,
And thus the secret of his love
Was from his heart beguiled.
XLVII
O wondrous are the ways of men,
And passion's sudden changes,
Through which the soul in one short hour
With desperate action ranges!
XLVIII
That smile hath withered years of love:
In Franz's burning spirit
Ejected love's intensity
Dark hatred doth inherit.
XLIX
Dishonor to the spotless knight
Becomes an airy sound;
And the red blood of Leopold
Hath stained that garden ground.
L
No scream, no cry from Adeline,
But silent as the grave
A snowy robe beneath the bridge
Floats down the woodland wave.
LI
Young Franz leaned on his reeking sword,
And pitifully gazed
Upon the white and ghastly face
To the blue sky upraised.
LII
And, many a year of penance past,
He in the vale of Thörl,
An anchoret in sackcloth shirt,
Was buried near the earl.
LIII
Then far and wide the tidings spread
Unto the Danube's shore;
Count Ferdinand from Hungary
To Gösting came no more.
LIV
And Gösting Castle now is left
Unto the wild white roses,
And not a maid in Styria durst
Wreathe one into her posies.
LV
And daily on the pleasant stream
The white leaves fall and shine,
And float away beneath the bridge,
Symbols of Adeline!
