Then too the deepest sorrow penetrated.--
The world in bloom around the hillock clings,--
The Prophet's words were changed to double wings;
Matilde and Henry were alone united
Into one form, into one rapture plighted;
New-born I rose, to Heaven gladly leaping,
For then the earthly destinies were blent
In one bright moment of transfigurement;
And Time, no more his ancient title keeping,
Again demanded what it once had lent.

Forth breaks the new creation here,
Eclipsing the glow of the brightest sphere.
Behold through ruins ivy-streaming
A new and wondrous future gleaming,
And what was common hitherto,
Appeareth marvellous and new.
Love's realm beginneth to reveal,
And busy Fable plies her wheel.
To its olden play each nature returns,
And a mighty spell in each one burns;
And so the Soul of the world doth hover
And move through all, and bloom forever.
For each other all must strive,
One through the other must ripen and thrive;
Each is shadowed forth in all,
While itself with them is blending,
And eagerly into their deeps doth fall,
Its own peculiar essence mending,
And myriad thoughts to life doth call.

The dream is World, the world is Dream,
And what already past may seem,
Itself is yet in distance moulding;
But Fancy first her court is holding,
Freely the threads at her pleasure weaving,
Much veiling here, much there unfolding,
And then in magical vapor leaving.
Life and death, rapture and sadness,
Are here in inmost sympathy,--
Who yieldeth himself to love's deep madness,
From its wounds is never free.
In pain must every bond be riven
That winds around the inner eye,
The orphaned heart with woe have striven,
Ere it the sullen world can fly.
The body melteth in its weeping,
Its bitter sighs the bosom burn;
The world a grave becometh, keeping
The heart, like ashes in an urn.

In deep thought a pilgrim was walking along a narrow foot-path which
ran up the mountain side. Noon had passed. A strong wind whistled
through the blue air. Its dull and ever-changing sounds lost themselves
as they came. Had it perhaps flown through the regions of childhood, or
through other whispering lands? They were voices whose echo sounded in
his