To find a father in the king!
To willing bosom may he press
The mother and her pleading one,
And yielding all to tenderness,
Embrace the minstrel as his son.
The young man, on uttering these words, which softly swelled through the dark paths, raised with trembling hand the veil. The princess, her eyes streaming with tears, fell at the feet of the king, and reached to him the beauteous child. The minstrel knelt with bowed head at her side. An anxious silence seemed to hold the breath of every one suspended. For a few moments the king remained grave and speechless; then he took the princess to his bosom, pressed her to himself with a warm embrace, and wept aloud. He also raised the young man, and embraced him with heart-felt tenderness. Exulting joy flew through the assembly, which began to crowd eagerly around them. Taking the child, the king raised it towards Heaven with touching devotion; and then kindly greeted the old man. Countless tears of joy were shed. The poets burst forth in song, and the night became a sacred festive eve of promise to the whole land, where life henceforth was but one delightful jubilee. No one can tell whither that land has fled. Tradition only whispers us that mighty floods have snatched Atlantis from our eyes.
CHAPTER IV.
Several days' journey was accomplished without the least interruption. The road was hard and dry, the weather refreshing and serene, and the countries, through which they passed, fertile, inhabited, and continually varied. The fertile Thuringian forest lay behind them. The merchants, who had often travelled by the same road, were acquainted with the people, and experienced everywhere the most hospitable reception. They avoided the retired regions, and such as were infested with robbers, or took a sufficient escort for their protection, when obliged to travel through them. Many proprietors of the neighboring castles were on good terms with the merchants. The latter visited them, seeking orders for Augsburg. Much friendly hospitality was shown them, and the old ladies with their daughters pressed around them with hearty curiosity. Henry's mother immediately won their affection by her good-natured complaisance and sympathy. They were rejoiced to see a lady from the capital, who was willing to tell them new fashions, and who taught them the recipes for many pleasant dishes. The young Ofterdingen was praised by knights and ladies, on account of his modesty and artless, mild behavior. The ladies lingered, too, with pleasure upon his captivating form, which resembled the simple word of some Unknown, which perhaps one scarcely regards, until, long after he has gone, it gradually opens its bud, and at length presents a beautiful flower in all the colored splendor of deeply interwoven leaves, so that one never forgets it, nor is ever wearied of its remembrance, but finds in it an exhaustless and ever-present treasure. We now begin to divine the Unknown more exactly; and our presages take form, till at once it becomes clear, that he was an inhabitant of a higher world. The merchants received many orders, and parted from their hosts with mutual hearty wishes, that they might see each other soon again. In one of these castles, where they arrived towards evening, the people were enjoying themselves right jovially. The lord of the castle was an old soldier, who celebrated and interrupted the leisure of peace, and the solitude of his situation, with frequent banquets; and who, besides the tumult of war and the chase, knew no other means of pastime, except the brimming beaker.
He received the new guests with brotherly heartiness, in the midst of his noisy companions. The mother was conducted to the lady of the castle. The merchants and Henry were obliged to seat themselves at the merry table, where the beaker passed bravely around. Henry, after much intreaty, was, in consideration of his youth, excused from pledging every time; the merchants, on the contrary, did not find it much against their tastes, and smacked the old Frank-wine with tolerable gusto. The conversation turned upon the adventures of past years. Henry listened attentively to what was said. The knights spoke of the holy land, of the wonders of the sacred tomb, of the adventures of their enterprise and voyage, of the Saracens in whose power some of them had been, and of the joyous and wonderful life of field and camp. They expressed with great animation their indignation, when they learned that the heavenly birth-place of Christendom was in the power of the unbelieving heathen. They exalted those great heroes, who had earned for themselves an immortal crown, by their persevering endeavors against this lawless people. The lord of the castle showed the rich sword, which he had taken from their leader with his own hand, after he had conquered his castle, slain him, and made his wife and children prisoners, which deeds, by the permission of the emperor, were represented on his coat of arms. All examined the splendid sword. Henry took it and felt suddenly inspired with warlike ardor. He kissed it with fervent devotion. The knight rejoiced at his sympathy with their feelings. The old man embraced him, and encouraged him to devote his hand also forever to the deliverance of the holy sepulchre, and to have affixed to his shoulder the marvel-working cross. He was enraptured, and seemed hardly able to release the sword. "Think, my son," cried the old knight, "a new crusade is on the point of departure. The emperor himself will lead our forces into the land of the morning. Throughout all Europe the cry of the cross is sounding anew, and everywhere heroic devotion is excited. Who knows that we may not, a year hence, be sitting at each other's side in the great and far renowned city of Jerusalem, as joyful conquerors, and think of home over the wine of our fatherland? You will see here, at my house, a maiden from the holy land. Its maidens appear very charming to us of the West; and if you guide your sword skilfully, beauteous captives shall not be wanting." The knights sang with a loud voice the Crusade-song, which at that time was a favorite throughout Europe.
The grave in heathen hands remaineth;