In galleries raised above the pomp,
    Press’d crowd on crowd their panting way,
  And with the joy-resounding tromp,
    Rang out the millions’ loud hurra! 
  For, closed at last the age of slaughter,
  When human blood was pour’d as water—­
        LAW dawns upon the world![20]
  Sharp force no more shall right the wrong,
  And grind the weak to crown the strong—­
        War’s carnage-flag is furl’d!

  In Rudolf’s hand the goblet shines—­
    And gaily round the board look’d he;
  “And proud the feast, and bright the wines
    My kingly heart feels glad to me! 
  Yet where the Gladness-Bringer—­blest
  In the sweet art which moves the breast
        With lyre and verse divine? 
  Dear from my youth the craft of song,
  And what as knight I loved so long,
        As Kaiser, still be mine.”

  Lo, from the circle bending there,
    With sweeping robe the Bard appears,
  As silver white his gleaming hair,
    Bleach’d by the many winds of years;
  “And music sleeps in golden strings—­
  Love’s rich reward the minstrel sings,
        Well known to him the ALL
  High thoughts and ardent souls desire! 
  What would the Kaiser from the lyre
        Amidst the banquet-hall?”

  The Great One smiled—­“Not mine the sway—­
    The minstrel owns a loftier power—­
  A mightier king inspires the lay—­
    Its hest—­THE IMPULSE OF THE HOUR!”
  As through wide air the tempests sweep,
  As gush the springs from mystic deep,
        Or lone untrodden glen;
  So from dark hidden fount within
  Comes SONG, its own wild world to win
        Amidst the souls of men!

  Swift with the fire the minstrel glow’d,
    And loud the music swept the ear:—­
  “Forth to the chase a Hero rode,
    To hunt the bounding chamois-deer;
  With shaft and horn the squire behind;—­
  Through greensward meads the riders wind—­
        A small sweet bell they hear. 
  Lo, with the HOST, a holy man—­
  Before him strides the sacristan,
        And the bell sounds near and near.

  “The noble hunter down-inclined
    His reverent head and soften’d eye,
  And honor’d with a Christian’s mind
    The Christ who loves humility! 
  Loud through the pasture, brawls and raves
  A brook—­the rains had fed the waves,
        And torrents from the bill. 
  His sandal-shoon the priest unbound,
  And laid the Host upon the ground,
        And near’d the swollen rill!

  “What wouldst thou, priest?” the Count began,
    As, marveling much, he halted there,
  “Sir Count, I seek a dying man,
    Sore-hungering for the heavenly fare. 
  The bridge that once its safety gave,
  Rent by the anger of the wave,
        Drifts down the tide below. 
  Yet barefoot now, I will not fear
  (The soul that seeks its God, to cheer)
        Through the wild wave to go!”