He started not; he did not speak or moan,
But seemed as one who hath been turned to stone;
And stood there like a statue, nor awoke
Out of his trance of pain, till morning broke,
Till the stars faded, and the moon went down,
And o’er the towers and steeples of the town
Came the gray daylight; then the sun, who took
The empire of the world with sovereign look,
Suffusing with a soft and golden glow
All the dead landscape in its shroud of snow,
Touching with flame the tapering chapel spires,
Windows and roofs, and smoke of household fires,
And kindling park and palace as he came;
The stork’s nest on the chimney seemed in flame. 
And thus he stood till Eginhard appeared,
Demure and modest with his comely beard
And flowing flaxen tresses, come to ask,
As was his wont, the day’s appointed task.

The Emperor looked upon him with a smile,
And gently said:  “My son, wait yet awhile;
This hour my council meets upon some great
And very urgent business of the state. 
Come back within the hour.  On thy return
The work appointed for thee shalt thou learn.

Having dismissed this gallant Troubadour,
He summoned straight his council, and secure
And steadfast in his purpose, from the throne
All the adventure of the night made known;
Then asked for sentence; and with eager breath
Some answered banishment, and others death.

Then spake the king:  “Your sentence is not mine;
Life is the gift of God, and is divine;
Nor from these palace walls shall one depart
Who carries such a secret in his heart;
My better judgment points another way. 
Good Alcuin, I remember how one day
When my Pepino asked you, ‘What are men?’
You wrote upon his tablets with your pen,
‘Guests of the grave and travellers that pass!’
This being true of all men, we, alas! 
Being all fashioned of the selfsame dust,
Let us be merciful as well as just;
This passing traveller, who hath stolen away
The brightest jewel of my crown to-day,
Shall of himself the precious gem restore;
By giving it, I make it mine once more. 
Over those fatal footprints I will throw
My ermine mantle like another snow.”

Then Eginhard was summoned to the hall,
And entered, and in presence of them all,
The Emperor said:  “My son, for thou to me
Hast been a son, and evermore shalt be,
Long hast thou served thy sovereign, and thy zeal
Pleads to me with importunate appeal,
While I have been forgetful to requite
Thy service and affection as was right. 
But now the hour is come, when I, thy Lord,
Will crown thy love with such supreme reward,
A gift so precious kings have striven in vain
To win it from the hands of Charlemagne.”

Then sprang the portals of the chamber wide,
And Princess Emma entered, in the pride
Of birth and beauty, that in part o’er-came
The conscious terror and the blush of shame. 
And the good Emperor rose up from his throne,
And taking her white hand within his own
Placed it in Eginhard’s, and said:  “My son
This is the gift thy constant zeal hath won;
Thus I repay the royal debt I owe,
And cover up the footprints in the snow.”