The secret make he knows,
And down amid her toiling
Unweariedly he goes.

"He is unto her plighted,
And tenderly allied,--
Becomes by her delighted,
As if she were his bride.

"New love each day is burning
For her within his breast,
No toil or trouble shunning,
She leaveth him no rest.

"To him her voice is swelling
In solemn, friendly rhyme,
The mighty stories telling
Of long-evanished time.

"The Fore-world's holy breezes
Around his temples play,
And caverned night releases
To him a quenchless ray.

"On every side he greeteth
A long familiar land,
And willingly she meeteth
The labors of his hand.

"For helpful waves are flowing
Along his mountain course,
And rocky holds are showing
Their treasures' secret source.

"Toward his monarch's palace
He guides the golden stream,
And diadem and chalice
With noble jewels gleam.

"Though faithfully his treasure
He renders to the king,
He liveth poor with pleasure,
And makes no questioning.

"And though beneath him daily
They fight for gold and gain,
Above here let him gaily
The lord of earth remain."

The song pleased Henry exceedingly, and he begged the old man to sing
another. He was willing to gratify him, saying, "I know one song that
is very strange, and of whose origin we ourselves are ignorant. A
travelling miner, who came to us from a distance, and who was a curious
diviner with a wand, brought it with him. The song became a favorite
because it was so peculiar,--nearly as dark and obscure as the music
itself; but on that very account singularly attractive, and like a
dream between sleeping and waking.

"I know where is a castle strong,
With stately king in silence reigning,
Attended by a wondrous throng,
Yet deep within its walls remaining.
His pleasure-hall is far aloof,
With viewless warders round it gliding,
And only streams familiar sliding
Toward him from the sparry roof.

"Of what they see