Through the Boscareccio's verdant Alleys swept the shining white robe Of His Holiness, who kindly To the Abbess and the maiden Here had granted audience.

And the Abbess gained a.s.surance, That her lawsuit would be taken Into prompt consideration.

Then to Margaretta turning.

Said the Pope: "None of the pilgrims Ever leave Rome without comfort; So I, as the soul's physician, Must prevent another fainting."

And he whispered to a servant: "Go and fetch the chapel-master."

Werner came: to stately manhood In this southern clime he'd ripened Since he left, a hopeless suitor, The old castle in the Rhine-land.

Life's wild whirlpool, since that morning, Had well tossed him hither thither.

Willingly I would relate here, How he went to many countries; How o'er land and sea he travelled; How he with the Knights of Malta Cruised against the Turkish corsairs; Till at last a fate mysterious Unto Rome had duly brought him.

But my song becomes impatient; Like a driver who is snapping At the door his whip, 'tis calling: "Onward! On to the conclusion!"

Werner came; bewildered gazed he Twice, yes thrice, at Margaretta, Gazed at her in utter silence; But his glances did express more Than a printed folio volume.

'Twas the glance with which Ulysses Sitting by the suitors' corpses Gazed upon his consort, from whom He by twenty years of wandering And of suffering had been parted.

Innocentius the Eleventh Was kind-hearted, a discerner Of men's hearts. Most kindly said he: "Those whom Providence united In His goodness and His wisdom, Shall no more be separated.

Yesterday when in St. Peter's, And to-day here in the garden, I have come to the conviction, That there is a case here waiting For my papal interference.

"'Tis indeed a mighty power Love, a power all subduing; Than light even more ethereal, Doth it penetrate all barriers, And the chair of Peter also Is not safe from its invasion When it asks us for our help.

"But it is a pleasant duty Of the head of Christendom, To make smooth the path of lovers, Every obstacle removing, That true love may be victorious.

And of all the various nations, 'Tis the Germans who beyond all Keep us busy with such matters.

So the Count of Gleichen brought here With him a fair Turkish consort From the Holy Land, though knowing His own consort still was living.

And our annals make full mention Of our predecessor's troubles Brought about by this wild action.

So likewise the most unhappy Of all knights came here, Tannhauser: "'Pope Urbano, Pope Urbano, Heal the sick man held as captive Seven years within the mountain Of the wicked G.o.ddess Venus!'

But to-day the case is different And more pleasing; there is nothing Which conflicts with any canon.

There is only a slight scruple-- If I've heard right--with the Baron.

You, my Werner, have been faithful, But I read 'neath all this quiet Resignation to your duty, That reluctantly you sang here, As a caged-up bird is singing.

Oft you've asked for your dismission, Which I ever did deny you, And to-day would never grant you, If it only were the custom, That the papal chapel-master Could like other mortals marry.

But in Rome we must keep always, As you know, traditions sacred; Palestrina for this reason Went himself to foreign lands.

"Therefore go with my full favour; And because the lady's father Thinks the name of Werner Kirchhof Much too simple, so I grant you Knighthood by my sovereign power.

You, I know, care naught about it; For you by your art enn.o.bled Think such t.i.tles of no moment.

But perhaps the gracious lady May consider it more proper, To bestow her hand in marriage On the Marquis Camposanto Rather than on Master Werner.

And because I hold the power Both to bind as well as loosen, I now solemnly betroth you.

E'en this loveless age rejoices At examples of devotion.

You have shown one--be then happy, And receive my papal blessing."

This he spoke with much emotion.

And overwhelmed with grateful feelings Werner knelt with Margaretta Down before the Holy Father; And the Abbess wept so freely That the gra.s.s thought it was raining.

With the tears of the good Abbess Closes now the touching story Of the young musician Werner And the lovely Margaretta.

But who's wandering late at night-time Through the Corso, who is stealing Through that dark and narrow side-street?

'Tis the faithful coachman Anton; Filled with joy is his whole being.

To give vent unto this feeling He is going to the wine-house, To the tavern del Fachino.

And to-night he is not drinking Country wine in fogliette; He has ordered a straw-covered Bottle of good Orvieto And of Monte Porzio.

Panes are crashing, fragments flying; For he throws each empty bottle In his rapture through the window.

Though indignant at the oil-drops Which upon the wine are floating, Just like comets in the ether, Still he drinks and drinks with ardour; Only while the tavern-keeper Went to fetch him the sixth bottle From the cellar, thus he spoke out: "Thou, oh heart of an old coachman, Now rejoice, for soon thou'lt harness Thy good horses and drive homeward.

From the standpoint of a coachman Italy is but a mournful Land, behind in every comfort.

Horrid roads, and frequent toll-gates, Musty stalls, and oats quite meagre, Coaches rough! I feel insulted Every time I see those waggons Drawn by oxen yoked together.

The first element is wanting Of a coachman's daily comfort, 'Tis the handy German hostler.

Oh how much I miss those worthies!

Oh how gladly I will welcome One in pointed cap and ap.r.o.n!

In my joy again to see him I will hug and even kiss him.

And at home what great surprises Are in store! Oh never was I So impressed with the grave duties Of a coachman as at present At a proud trot, such as never Has been seen in this whole country, Shall I drive my lord and ladies Home through Florence and Milan.

"At Schaffhausen, the last station For our night's rest, I must promptly Send a messenger on horseback, And he must alarm the city: 'Put up quickly all your banners, Load your cannons for saluting, And erect an arch of honour!'

Then we enter the next evening Through the ancient gate in triumph, And my whip I'll crack so loudly That the town-house windows rattle.

Then I hear the aged Baron Asking sharply: 'What's the meaning Of these banners and this uproar?'

From afar I shout already: 'Heaven's blessing rests upon us; Here a bridal pair are coming, And, my lord, they are your children.'

This day ne'er shall be forgotten!

In remembrance shall the tom-cat Hiddigeigei have a genuine Whole well-smoked Italian sausage.

For the sake of after ages Must the good schoolmaster make me A fine poem on this subject; I don't care, e'en should it cost me The amount of two whole thalers, And it must conclude as follows: 'From true love and trumpet-blowing Many useful things are springing; For true love and trumpet-blowing E'en a n.o.ble wife are winning.

May true love and trumpet-blowing Each one find good fortune bringing, As our trumpeter young Werner, On the Rhine at old Sakkingen.'"

THE END.

NOTES.

The town of Sakkingen, where the scene of this poem is laid, is situated amid beautiful scenery on the outskirts of the Schwarzwald (Black Forest), on the right bank of the Rhine, and on the road from Basel to Constance, about 30 miles above the former place. The town owes its origin to the settlement of St. Fridolinus (as related in the Third Part of the poem), who came here from Ireland in the 6th century, and founded a monastery, afterwards converted into a convent for n.o.ble ladies. The settlement was made on an island in the Rhine. In the poem the town is still considered as lying on an island, but according to the legend, St. Fridolinus altered the course of the Rhine, leading its waters entirely to the west side of the island.

The castle of Schoenau, on the site of the old castle of the Baron, the father of the heroine of the story, stands close to the Rhine, and is now the seat of Mr. Theodore Bally, the well-known wealthy and benevolent proprietor of large silk manufactories. He has caused the old tower of the castle to be restored, and intends to adorn its walls with frescoes, representing scenes from the poem.

_Page_ 1.--Michele Pagano, a very popular hotel-keeper in Capri, whose hotel was mostly frequented by German artists. He died only very recently, universally regretted.

_Page_ 3.--The cat Hiddigeigei, the old Baron's cat, with which the reader will become better acquainted as a philosophising cat in the course of the poem.

_Page_ 5.--Amaranth, a poem by Oscar von Redwitz, published a few years before "The Trumpeter of Sakkingen," and at that time very popular, especially with certain cla.s.ses in Germany.

_Page_ 13.--The Boezberg, a mountain in the Jura, over which the old road from Basel to Zurich led. Now the railroad between the two places pierces it with a tunnel.

--The Hozzenwald, the Hauenstein mountains. See note to page 15.

--The Gallus Tower, an old tower at the upper extremity of Sakkingen, properly called after St. Gallus, now used as a house of refuge for homeless people.

_Page_ 14.--The graveyard of Sakkingen contains still the tombstone of the hero and heroine of the poem. Their names, as given there, are Franz Werner Kirchhofer and Marie Ursula von Schoenau. The first died in May, 1690, the latter in March of the following year.

_Page_ 15.--The Eggberg is one of the mountains in the Hauenstein country, to the north of Sakkingen. The inhabitants of this country were formerly remarkable for their quaint costumes coming down from the 15th century. The men wore shirts with large frills around the neck, red stomachers, long black jackets, and wide trousers reaching below the knee, and called hozen. Hence the land was called Hozzenland. The dress of the women was also very peculiar, and of many bright colours.

These old costumes are now rarely seen.

_Page_ 17.--"The silvery lake," a romantic small lake, half an hour N.W. from Sakkingen. It lies in a hollow on the hills, surrounded by rocks and splendid fir-woods. The lake, which is known by the name of Berg See (mountain lake), is now also called Scheffel See. It is a favourite spot for excursions from far and near, and abounds in fish.

_Page_ 19.--The Feldberg, the highest point of the Schwarzwald.