O dear ones, depart not I pray!
O flowers, spread with beauty my way!
My harp is broken, but no sigh
Spring's spirits gay shall cause to fly.
And I am still so blest;
In my heart is heavenly rest.
"He wanders farther, and seeks out every beloved nook. The youth of the country assemble, and surround the aged singer—'the friend of youth and gladness.' They entreat him with his music to beautify their festival:
For spring is dead, with all its pleasure,
Without the harp and song's glad measure.
"The old man replies:
Quenched, ye youth, is my fire so wild;
My evening twilight is cool, but mild;
And the blissful hours of my youth are brought,
By your lively songs, into my thought.
Bewail me not; I am still so blest—
In my heart lieth heaven's own rest.
"And now he exhorts the songsters of the wood, flowers, youth, everything that is lovely in nature and in life, to rejoice in its existence, and to praise the Creator. The beauty and joy of all creatures are the garland in his silver hair; and grateful and happy, admiring and singing praises, he sinks softly into the maternal bosom of Nature."
Alette was silent; a tender emotion trembled in her voice as she uttered the last words, and beamed in her charming countenance. The tears of Mrs. Astrid flowed; her hands were convulsively clasped together, whilst she exclaimed, "Oh thus to feel before one dies! and thus to be permitted to die!" She drew Alette to her with a kind of vehemence, kissed her, and then wept silently, leaning on her shoulder. Harald, too, was affected; but he appeared to restrain his feelings, and gazed with earnest and tearful eyes on the group before him.
Silently and unobserved stole Susanna out of the room. She felt a sting in her heart; a serpent raged in her bosom. Driven by a nameless agonised disquiet, she hastened forth into the free air, and ascended, almost without being aware of it herself, the steep footpath up the mountain, where many a time, in calmer moments, she had admired the beautiful prospect.
Great and beautiful scenes had, during the foregoing conversation, arisen before her view;—she felt herself so little, so poor beside them. Ah! she could not once speak of the great and beautiful, for her tongue was bound. She felt so warmly, and yet could warm no one! The happy Alette won without trouble, perhaps even without much valuing it, a regard, an approval, which Susanna would have purchased with her life. The Barbra-spirit boiled up in her, and with a reproachful glance to heaven she exclaimed, "Shall I then, for my whole life remain nothing but a poor despised maid-servant!"
The heaven looked clown on the young maiden mildly, but smilingly; soft rain-drops sprinkled her forehead; and all nature around her stood silent, and, as it were, in sorrow. This sorrowing calm operated on Susanna like the tenderly accusing glance of a good mother. She looked down into her heart, and saw there envy and pride, and she shuddered at herself. She gazed down into the stream which waved beneath her feet, and she thought with longing, "Oh, that one could but plunge down, deep, deep into these waves, and then arise purified—improved!"