Evening's peace and calm deride.
For the brave dead's direst curses
Rest upon the rocky tomb,
Where the Gothic hero-nation
Will fulfil their glorious doom."

"Yes," said Teja, "glorious, my Adalgoth! Of that glory no fate and no
Narses shall deprive us. The awful judgment, which our beloved Totila
challenged, has fallen heavily upon himself, his people, and his God.
No Heavenly Father has, as that noble man imagined, weighed our
destinies in a just balance. We fall by the thousand treacheries of the
Italians and the Byzantines, and by the brute superiority of numbers.
But _how_ we fall, unshaken, proud even in our decay, can be decided by
no fate, but only by our own worth. And after us? Who after us will
rule in this land? Not for long these wily Greeks--and not the native
strength of the Italians. Numerous tribes of Germans still exist on the
other side of the mountains--and I nominate them our heirs and our
avengers."

And he softly took up the harp which Adalgoth had laid down, and sang
in a low voice as he looked down upon the rapidly darkening sea. The
stars glittered over his head; and at rare intervals he struck a chord.

"Extinguished is the brightest star
Of our Germanic race!
O Dietrich, thou beloved of Bern,
Thy shield is bruised, defaced.
Unblemished truth and courage fail--
The coward wins--the noble fly;
Rascals are lords of all the world--
Up, Goths, and let us die!

"O wicked Rome, O southern gleam,
O lovely, heavenly blue!
O rolling blood-stained Tiber-stream--
O Southerns, all untrue!
Still cherishes the North its sons
Of courage true and high;
Vengeance will roll its thunders soon--
Then, up! and let us die!"

"The melody pleases me," said Adalgoth; "but is it already finished?
What is the end?"

"'The end can only be sung in time to the stroke of the sword," said
Teja. "Soon, methinks, thou wilt also hear this end." And he rose
from his seat. "Go, my Adalgoth," he said; "leave me alone. I have
already kept thee far too long from"--and he smiled through all his
sadness--"from the loveliest of all duchesses. You have but few of
such evening hours to spend together, my poor children! If I could but
save your young and budd