The ancient peaks are standing.
For though poor mortals go astray
And like the grass must fade away,
The mountains still are standing.
Within the golden gleaming sky
Full many a grief is melted.
Ye valley dwellers, come on high,
Come all, for here, where heaven is nigh,
Full many a grief is melted.
That evening Vinzi came tearing down the mountain-side so late that the whole family had been gathered together before the house looking for him on every side. Jos had returned several hours ago and had related to them the grandfather’s delight at the music, also how he had treated them to a feast and how Vinzi had suddenly disappeared, no one knew whither. They had all vainly guessed where he might be. One member of the family after another had gone outside to see if he was coming home, till finally all of them were on the lookout. He came running along at last.