In storms the foe with fire and sword!
He in the night had scaled the wall;
Slain by the sword lies the youthful lord,
But holds in his hand the crystal tall,
The shattered Luck of Edenhall.
On the morrow the butler gropes alone,
The graybeard, in the desert hall;
He seeks his lord's burnt skeleton;
He seeks in the dismal ruin's fall
The shards of the Luck of Edenhall.
"The stone wall," saith he, "doth fall aside;
Down must the stately columns fall;
Glass is this earth's Luck and Pride;
In atoms shall fall this earthly hall,
One day, like the Luck of Edenhall!"
* * * * *
ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD[34] (1859)
You came, you went, as angels go,
A fleeting guest within our land.
Whence and where to?—We only know:
Forth from God's hand into God's hand.
JOSEPH VON EICHENDORFF
* * * * *
THE BROKEN RING[35] (1810)
Down in yon cool valley
I hear a mill-wheel go:
Alas! my love has left me,
Who once dwelt there below.