LEGEND OF VELDENZ.
Irmina wept for her knightly lover, who had departed to fight the Saracens. Her mother bade her dry her tears, for there was no lack of lovers for a pretty girl like her; but Irmina replied with sobs, that the ring which her knight had given her, and which she always wore, united her to him for ever, and seemed to whisper words of love and caress her hand.
Then the mother, fearing for her daughter’s health, advised her to throw off the ring, for her lover was surely dead, and it would be wiser to take a live husband than mope for a dead lover.
Persuaded at length, Irmina cast her ring into the well, and seemed to get the better of her melancholy; but one day the ring was drawn up in the well-bucket, and the maid brought it in to her young mistress: then her love likewise returned.
Her mother again persuaded her to cast away the fatal ring, and this time it was buried deep in the earth; but a bean that was buried there likewise, grew rapidly up, and carried the ring to the window of Irmina’s chamber.
Much frightened, Irmina yet rejoiced at recovering her ring, and her love for the absent knight grew stronger than ever. Her mother once more pressed her to destroy it, and this time proposed fire as a means of being quit of the ring for ever.
“Do not, dear mother,” said the maiden; “’twould be sin before God. In spirit I am wedded to my absent knight, and, alive or dead, none other husband will I have.”
Still the mother persisted, and wrested the ring from her daughter’s hand; but before she could cast it into the flames the knight stood alive in the room, and soon the ring was used for the purpose of turning the wandering knight and the lady Irmina into a happy bridegroom and bride.
A day’s exploration of the Veldenz-thal, and other valleys into which it leads, makes us acquainted with many agreeable walks and charming scenes. The old castle itself is quite a ruin, but well worth exploring, there being still a good deal of its stone-work remaining; vineyards are found within and around its walls.
What enjoyment there is in finding one’s self free to climb and saunter amidst delicious scenery! Now we walk briskly along, returning the “Guten tag” of the ever-polite peasants, who enunciate this phrase from the bottom of their throats. The guten is not heard at all, and the tag sounds as if, in the endeavour to swallow the word, the performer choked, and was obliged, when half-strangled, to gasp it out.
At midday we halt, and luxuriate over our hard-boiled eggs and bread and cheese, with green cloth ready spread, and gushing stream sparkling from the rock. Then, as we lie back musing and dreaming, what strange thoughts of the old times come into our heads! Peopled by fancy, the old towers and walls again re-echo to the lutes and voices of long-gone days.
And what a charming friend or mistress we find in Fancy! Most beautiful of aërial beings, she gilds for us the darkest paths, and smiles through every cloud upon her admiring followers.
FANCY.
I climb the hill,
And sit me in the shade;
Sitting I muse,
And, musing, woo the maid
Whose steps earth fill
With flower and loveliness
For those who use
Her kindness not amiss.
She softly sends
To me the gentle gale;
My brow she cools
With scented sweets, that sail
From where she bends
The tree-tops down below,
Mid which in pools
The tiny brooklets flow.
I woo her, she gently kisses me—
Thus goes day, as happy as can be.
Great peaks of jagged rock start out of the green hills that surround Burg Veldenz. The stream at its base glitters through the foliage; and the neat, well-kept farm-houses (unusual in this part) that are sprinkled through the valley, make “Thal Veldenz” a perfect Arcadia.
Re-embarking at Muhlheim, and continuing our descent of the river, into which three or four streams now now from the side-valleys, we soon get a sight of the ruined castle above Berncastel, and rounding the island opposite to Cus, the town itself, with its picturesque houses and towers, comes into view.
Muhlheim is celebrated in verse for the sorrows of three sisters, who, as young ladies will do, fell in love, one after another, as each came to years of indiscretion. The eldest, being forbidden to marry by her father, died in three months; the second, being also forbidden, was obliged to be confined in a mad-house; still the unrelenting old father treated his third and youngest daughter in the same harsh manner, objecting to her very natural wish to marry a brave young esquire: having more spirit than her sisters, or being warned by their fate, this youngest ran away with her sweetheart, and was disinherited by the old curmudgeon, who seems to have loved nothing but his gold. We are not told the after-fate of the youngest, or whether love made up for loss of gold.
