share."

But at the helm King Charles sat by,
And never said a word,
And steered the ship with steadfast eye
Till no more tempest stirred.

* * * * *

FREE ART[28] (1812)

Thou, whom song was given, sing
In the German poets' wood!
When all boughs with music ring--
Then is life and pleasure good.

Nay, this art doth not belong
To a small and haughty band;
Scattered are the seeds of song
All about the German land.

Music set thy passions free
From the heart's confining cage;
Let thy love like murmurs be,
And like thunder-storm thy rage!

Singest thou not all thy days,
Joy of youth should make thee sing.
Nightingales pour forth their lays
In the blooming months of spring!

Though in books they hold not fast
What the hour to thee imparts,
Leaves unto the breezes cast,
To be seized by youthful hearts!

Fare thou well, thou secret lore:
Necromancy, Alchemy!
Formulas shall bind no more,
And our art is poesy.

Names we deem but empty air;
Spirits we revere alone;
Though we honor masters rare.
Art is free--it is our own!

Not in haunts of marble chill,
Temples drear where ancients trod--
Nay, in oaks on woody hill,
Lives and moves the German God.

* * * * *

TAILLEFER[29] (1812)

Duke William of the Normans spoke unto his servants all:
"Who is it sings so sweetly in the court and in the hall?
Who sings from early morn till the house is still at night
So sweetly that he fills my heart with laughter and delight?"

"'Tis Taillefer," they answered him, "so joyously that sings
Within the courtyard, as the wheel above the well he swings,
And when the fire upon the hearth he stirs to burn more bright,
And when he rises to his toil or lays him down at night."

Then spoke the Duke, "In him I trow I have a faithful knave--
This Taillefer that serves me here, so loyal and so brave;
He turns the wheel and stirs the fire with willing, sturdy arm,
And, best of all, with blithesome song he knows my heart to charm."

Then out spake lusty Taillefer, "Ah, lord, if I were free,
Far better would I serve thee then, and gladly sing to thee.
How on my stately charger would I serve thee in the field,
How sing before thee cheerily, with clang of sword and shield!"

The days went by, and Taillefer rode out as