g the roar
"This town was ever so before,
And so will live forevermore!"
"Five hundred years from yonder day
I want to pass the selfsame way."

* * * * *

AT FORTY YEARS[58] (1832)

When for forty years we've climbed the rugged mountain,
We stop and backward gaze;
Yonder still we see our childhood's peaceful fountain,
And youth exulting strays.

One more glance behind, and then, new strength acquiring,
Staff grasped, no longer stay;
See, a further slope, a long one, still aspiring
Ere downward turns the way!

Take a brave long breath and toward the summit hie thee--
The goal shall draw thee on;
When thou think'st it least, the destined end is nigh thee--
Sudden, the journey's done!

* * * * *

BEFORE THE DOORS[59]

I went to knock at Riches' door;
They threw me a farthing the threshold o'er.

To the door of Love did I then repair--
But fifteen others already were there.

To Honor's castle I took my flight--
They opened to none but to belted knight.

The house of Labor I sought to win--
But I heard a wailing sound within.

To the house of Content I sought the way--
But none could tell me where it lay.

One quiet house I yet could name,
Where last of all, I'll admittance claim;

Many the guests that have knocked before,
But still--in the grave--there's room for more.

[Illustration: AUGUST GRAF VON PLATEN-HALLERMUND]

_AUGUST VON PLATEN-HALLERMUND_

* * * * *

THE PILGRIM BEFORE ST. JUST'S[60] (1819)

'Tis night, and tempests whistle o'er the moor;
Oh, Spanish father, ope the door!
Deny me not the little boon I crave,
Thine order's vesture, and a grave!
Grant me a cell within thy convent-shrine--
Half of this world, and more, was mine;
The head that to the tonsure now stoops down
Was circled once by many a crown;
The shoulders fretted now with shirt of hair
Did once the imperial ermine wear.
Now am I as the dead, e'er death is come,
And sink in ruins like old Rome.

* * * * *

THE GRAVE OF ALARIC[61] (1820)

On Busento's grassy banks a muffled chorus echoes nightly,
While the swirling eddies answer and the wavelets ripple lightly.

Up and down the river, shades of Gothic warriors watch are keeping,
For they mourn their people's h