He remained a while standing as if enchained, and gazed fixedly upon her, as if to assure himself that her appearance was real and no illusion. They greeted each other with subdued expressions of joy at their meeting, as if they had long known and loved each other. Before the princess could explain to him the reason of her early walk, he handed her with blushes and a beating heart the stone in the inscribed billet. It seemed as if the princess anticipated the meaning of the lines. She took the billet silently and with a trembling hand, and almost unconsciously hung a golden chain, which she wore about her neck, upon him, as a reward for his fortunate discovery. He knelt abashed before her, and could hardly find words to answer her inquiries about his father. She told him in a half whisper, and with downcast eyes, that she would with pleasure soon visit them again, and take advantage of his father's promise to make her acquainted with his curiosities.
She thanked the young man again with unusual feeling, and returned slowly on her way without once looking back. The youth was speechless. He bowed respectfully and gazed after her for a long time, until she vanished behind the trees. In a few days she visited them again, and after this her visits became frequent. The youth by degrees became the companion of her walks. He accompanied her from the garden at an appointed hour, and escorted her back again. She observed a strict silence with respect to her rank, confiding as she otherwise was to her attendant, from whom no thought of her heavenly soul was ever hidden. The loftiness of her descent seemed to pour a secret fear into her. The young man gave up to her likewise his whole soul. Both father and son considered her a maiden of quality from the court. She clung to the old man with the tenderness of a daughter. Her caresses lavished upon him were the rapturous prophets of her tenderness towards his son. She was soon perfectly at home in the wonderful house; and while she sang to her lute her charming song with an unearthly voice, the old man and the son sitting at her feet, the latter of whom she instructed in the divine art; she learned on the other hand from his inspired lips the solution of those riddles, which everywhere abound in the secrets of nature. He taught her how by a mysterious sympathy the world had arisen, and the stars been united in their harmonious order. The history of the past became clear to her mind from his holy fables; and how delightful it became, when in the height of his inspiration her scholar seized the lute, and broke out with incredible skill into the most admirable songs. One day, when seized by a peculiar romance of feeling, she was in his company, and her powerful, long-cherished love overcame at returning her customary, maiden timidity; they both almost unconsciously sank into each other's arms, and the first glowing kiss melted them into one forever. As the sun was setting, the roaring of the trees gave notice of a mighty tempest. Threatening thunder-clouds with their deep, night-like darkness gathered over them. The young man hastened to carry his charge in safety from the fearful hurricane and the crashing branches. But through the darkness and his fear for his beloved, he missed the road, and plunged deeper and deeper into the forest. His fear increased when he perceived his mistake. The princess thought of the terror of the king and of the court. An unutterable anxiety pierced at times like a consuming ray into her soul; and the voice of her lover, who continually spoke consolation to her heart, alone restored courage and confidence, and eased her oppressed bosom.
The storm raged on; all endeavors to find the road were in vain, and they both thought themselves fortunate, when, by a flash of lightning, they discovered a cave near at hand on the declivity of a woody hill, where they hoped to find a safe refuge from the dangers of the tempest, and a resting place from their fatigue. Fortune realized their wishes. The cave was dry and overgrown with clean moss. The young man quickly lighted a fire of brushwood and moss, by which they could dry their garments; and the two lovers saw themselves thus strangely separated from the world, saved from a dangerous situation, and alone at each other's side in a warm and comfortable shelter.
A wild almond branch, loaded with fruit, hung down into the cave; and a neighboring stream of trickling water quenched their thirst. The youth had preserved his lute; and now they were entertained by its consoling and cheering music, as they sat by the crackling fire. A higher power seemed to have taken upon itself to loosen the knot more quickly, and to have brought them under peculiar circumstances into this romantic situation. The innocence of their hearts, the magic harmony of their minds, the united, irresistible power of their sweet passion, and their youth, soon made them forget the world and their relations to it, and lulled them, under the bridal song of the tempest and the nuptial torches of the lightning, into the sweetest intoxication, by which a mortal couple ever has been blessed. The break of the light blue morning was to them the awakening of a new, blissful world. Nevertheless a stream of hot tears, which soon gushed forth from the eyes of the princess, revealed to her lover the thousand-fold anxieties, which were awakening in her heart. In one night he had grown old in years, and had passed from youth to manhood. With an inspiring enthusiasm, he consoled his mistress, reminded her of the holiness of true love, and of the high faith which it inspired, and prayed her to look forward with confidence from the good spirit of her heart to the brightest future. The princess felt that his consolation was founded on truth, revealed to him that she was the daughter of the king, and that she feared only on account of the pride and anxiety of her father. After mature consideration, they concluded what course to pursue, and the young man immediately started to seek his father, and to make him acquainted with their plan. He promised to be with her again soon, and left her lost in sweet imaginings of what would be the issue of these occurrences. The youth soon reached the dwelling of his father, who was right glad to see his son return to him in safety. He listened to the story and the plans of the lovers, and seemed willing to assist them. His house was retired, and contained some subterraneous chambers, which could not easily be discovered. Here the princess was to dwell. She was brought thither at twilight, and received by the old man with deep emotion. She afterwards often wept in her solitude, when her thoughts reverted to her mourning father; yet she concealed her grief from her lover, and told it only to the old man, who consoled her kindly, and painted to her imagination her early return to her father.
In the mean time the court had fallen into the greatest alarm, when, at evening, the princess was missing. The king was entirely beside himself, and sent people in every direction to seek her. No man could explain her absence. No one mistrusted that she was entangled in a love affair, and therefore an elopement was not thought of. Moreover no other person of the court was missing, nor was there any cause for the remotest suspicion. The messengers returned without having accomplished anything, and the king sank into the deepest dejection. It was only at evening, when his minstrels came before him, bringing with them their beautiful songs, that his former pleasure appeared renewed to him; his daughter seemed near him, and he conceived the hope that he should soon behold her again. But when he was again alone, his heart seemed like to break, and he wept aloud. Then he thought within himself; "of what advantage to me now is all this splendor and my high birth? Without her, even these songs are mere words and delusions. She was the charm that gave them life and joy, power and form. Would rather that I were the lowest of my subjects. Then my daughter would still be with me; perhaps also I should have a son-in-law, and my grandson would sit upon my knees; then indeed I should be another king than I am now. It is not the crown or the kingdom that makes the king; it is the full, overflowing feeling of happiness, the satiety of earthly possessions, the consciousness of perfect satisfaction and content. In this way am I now punished for my pride. The loss of my wife did not sufficiently humble me; but now my misery is boundless." Thus complained the king in his hours of ardent longing. Yet at times his old austerity and pride broke forth. He was angry with his own complaints; he would endure and be silent as becomes a king. He thought even then that he suffered more than all others, and that royalty was burdened with heavy care; but when it became darker, and stepping into the chamber of his daughter he beheld her clothes hanging there, and her little effects scattered around, as if she had but a moment before left the chamber; then he forgot his resolutions, exhibited all the gestures of sorrow, and called upon his lowest servant for sympathy. All the city and country wept and condoled with him, with their whole hearts. It is worthy of remark, that it was noised abroad that the princess yet lived, and would soon return with a husband. No one knew whence this report arose; but every one clung to it with joyous belief, and awaited her return with impatient expectation. Thus several months passed on, until spring again drew nigh. "What will you wager," said some of sanguine disposition, "that the princess will not return also?" Even the king grew more serene and hopeful. The report seemed to him like a promise from some kind power. The accustomed festivals were again renewed, and nought seemed wanting but the princess to fill up the bloom of their former splendor. One evening, exactly a year from the time when she disappeared, the whole court was assembled in the garden. The air was warm and serene; and no sound was heard but that of the gentle wind in the tops of the old trees, announcing, as it were, the approach of some far off joy. A mighty fountain, arising amid the torches, which with their innumerable lights relieved the duskiness of the sighing tree-tops, accompanied the varied songs with melodious murmurs sounding through the forest. The king sat upon a costly carpet, and the court in festal dress was gathered around him. The multitude filled the garden, and encircled the splendid scene. The king at this moment was sitting plunged in profound thought. The image of his lost daughter appeared before him with unwonted clearness. He thought of the happy days, which ended with the last year about that time. A burning desire overpowered him, and the tears flowed fast down his venerable cheeks; yet he experienced a hope, as clear as it was unusual. It seemed as if the past year of sorrow were but a heavy dream, and he raised his eyes as if seeking her lofty, holy, captivating form amidst the people and the trees. The minstrel had just ended, and deep silence gave evidence of deep emotion; for the poets had sung of the joys of meeting, of spring, and of the future, as hope is accustomed to adorn them.
The silence was suddenly interrupted by the low sound of an unknown but beautiful voice, which seemed to proceed from an aged oak. All looks were directed towards it, and a young man in simple, but peculiar dress, was seen standing with a lute upon his arm. He continued his song, yet saluted the king, as he turned his eyes towards him, with a profound, bow. His voice was remarkably fine, and the song of a nature strange and wonderful. He sang the origin of the world, the stars, plants, animals, and men, the all-powerful sympathy of nature; the remote age of gold, and its rulers Love and Poesy; the appearance of hatred and barbarism, and their battles with these beneficient goddesses; and finally, the future triumph of the latter, the end of affliction, the renovation of nature, and the return of an eternal golden age. Even, the old minstrels, wrapped in ecstasy, drew nearer to the singular stranger. A charm, they had never before felt, seized all listeners, and the king was carried away in feeling, as upon a tide from Heaven. Such music had never before been heard. All thought that a heavenly being had appeared among them; and especially so, because the young man appeared, during his song, continually to grow more beautiful and resplendent, and his voice more powerful. The gentle wind played with his golden locks. The lute in his hands seemed inspired, and it was as if his intoxicated gaze pierced into a secret world. The child-like innocence and simplicity of his face appeared to all transcendant. Now the glorious strain was finished. The elder poets pressed the young man to their bosoms with tears of joy. A silent inward exultation shot through the whole assembly. The king, filled with emotion, approached him. The young man threw himself reverently at his feet. The king raised him up, embraced him, and bade him ask for any gift. Then, with glowing cheeks he prayed the king to listen to another song, and to decide as to his request. The king stepped a few paces back, and the young stranger began:--
Through many a rugged, thorny pass,
With tattered robe, the minstrel wends;
He toils through flood and deep morass,
Yet none a helping hand extends.