Forester. I did not tell you she was dead;
If you thought so ’twas no fault of mine;
At this very moment, while I speak,
They are sailing homeward down the Rhine,
In a splendid barge, with golden prow,
And decked with banners white and red
As the colors on your daughter’s cheek. 
They call her the Lady Alicia now;
For the Prince in Salerno made a vow
That Elsie only would he wed.

Ursula. Jesu Maria! what a change!  All seems to me so weird and strange!

Forester. I saw her standing on the deck,
Beneath an awning cool and shady;
Her cap of velvet could not hold
The tresses of her hair of gold,
That flowed and floated like the stream,
And fell in masses down her neck. 
As fair and lovely did she seem
As in a story or a dream
Some beautiful and foreign lady. 
And the Prince looked so grand and proud,
And waved his hand thus to the crowd
That gazed and shouted from the shore,
All down the river, long and loud.

Ursula. We shall behold our child once more;
She is not dead!  She is not dead! 
God, listening, must have overheard
The prayers, that, without sound or word,
Our hearts in secrecy have said! 
O, bring me to her; for mine eyes
Are hungry to behold her face;
My very soul within me cries;
My very hands seem to caress her,
To see her, gaze at her, and bless her;
Dear Elsie, child of God and grace!

          (Goes out toward the garden.)

Forester. There goes the good woman out of her head;
And Gottlieb’s supper is waiting here;
A very capacious flagon of beer,
And a very portentous loaf of bread. 
One would say his grief did not much oppress him. 
Here’s to the health of the Prince, God bless him!

          (He drinks.)

Ha! it buzzes and stings like a hornet! 
And what a scene there, through the door! 
The forest behind and the garden before,
And midway an old man of threescore,
With a wife and children that caress him. 
Let me try still further to cheer and adorn it
With a merry, echoing blast of my cornet!

          (Goes out blowing his horn.)

* * * * *

THE CASTLE OF VAUTSBERG ON THE RHINE.

* * * * *

PRINCE HENRY and ELSIE standing on the terrace at evening.  The sound of bells heard from a distance.

Prince Henry. We are alone.  The wedding guests
Ride down the hill, with plumes and cloaks,
And the descending dark invests
The Niederwald, and all the nests
Among its hoar and haunted oaks.

Elsie. What bells are those, that ring so slow, So mellow, musical, and low?

Prince Henry. They are the bells of Geisenheim, That with their melancholy chime Ring out the curfew of the sun.