So the wood-nymph’s steps we trace,
As she roams from place to place,
Scattering beauty o’er the ground;
Thus the earth with flowers is crowned.
Only a few of the flowers that we find growing there are enumerated in the above; moreover, they are more beautiful than wild flowers usually are, attaining to great size; the enothera, harebells, and campanulas, with wild geraniums, and a host of others, go to swell the list.
Before the Saar runs in, the red rocks of Trèves appear on the left bank, jutting over the trees, close to the river’s course; then they retire inland, until the old Roman bridge is reached; there they again approach, and from their heights the remnant of old Trèves is spread out, environed by its avenues and studded with its churches and ruins. The river is beneath; and the eight-arched bridge, complete as in the golden days of Rome, clasps the waist of our river as a zone encircling that of a young girl just budding into womanhood.
And so, our graceful woman-stream at Trèves ceases her girlhood and becomes more beautiful, more reflective, and more graceful; the hills draw near, and the vineyards sparkle among the rocks; her handmaidens, the brooks, wait at every turn to tend her, increasing her beauty; and following in her train, pass along in glorious procession, the trees bending and the rocks falling back before the might of innocence and love.
Strong in innocence, with virgin bosom unsullied, nothing less bright than heaven’s reflection ever having rested there; but mightier still in love,—abounding love,—that causes her to feed the earth and fertilise the soil wherever she passes; so that man, receiving at her hands his daily food, thanks and blesses her, and praises, through her, her Creator.
We, the lookers-on, or lighter toilers, should bless her surely not less than the poor vine-dresser or digger of the soil. True, for one she has carved the rock into sunny platforms, and for the other she has left upon the rocks a thick coating of productive earths; but to us she has given that brighter gift of higher value far,—the impress of God’s beneficence, not merely through material food and drink, but through the superior senses which feed the mind.
It is impossible to wander from the source of our Moselle, to muse over the rise and fall of the nations and cities on her banks, to look upon her rocks and flowers, to glide adown her stream, to stand amidst the ruined walls of her old towers, to watch the seed-time and harvest on her banks, the clustering bunches and the brilliant glow of the wine and corn, with all the lesser incidents adorning her;—it is impossible to view all these, to ruminate and gaze, to live with her and be of her in all her windings, all her sunshine and refreshing shade, and not imbibe a portion of her spirit; a portion, larger as we look deeper and think more, of her innocence and peace of mind, which, laid up within our hearts, as the corn and wine within the store, will give us at a future time joy and gladness.