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God's Love |
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After a pause, another merchant volunteered to tell a tale.
"It is not so wonderful, and belongs to later days, yet it will please you and instruct you in the power of that strange art. There was an aged king, who lived surrounded by splendour. People flocked to see his magnificence from far and near, and there was no lack of continual amusements, dainty banquets, gorgeous decorations, fine fashions, plays and dances, nor of learned men whose conversation was a feast for the mind, nor of beautiful youths and maidens who animated the soul of the whole. "
The old king was a stern and serious man, who had two motives in all this display. One was his tender devotion to his only daughter (all that remained to remind him of his young wife), a charming and loveable girl, at whose feet he would have gladly laid al the treasures of earth and heaven.. The other was a perfect devotion to poetry and poets. From his youth he had been devoted to this art, and had spent vast sums of money in collecting the works of the poems of all ages and climes.
He attracted poets to his court from all the ends of the earth, and overwhelmed them with honours. He never wearied of listening to their songs, and would often forget the most pressing business in his enjoyment of a new poem. His daughter had grown up amidst poetry and song. Her whole being was like a tender poem, an expression of sadness and longing.
The beneficent effects of poetry were seen all through the land, especially at Court. Life was the more enjoyable because poetry banished all low mean passions, which like discords, vanished in the presence of the pure harmony of the enlightened souls. In those happy days peace of mind and holy contemplation were the lot of all.
Jealousy was known only in the old legends, where it was spoken of as the enemy of mankind. It seemed as if the spirit of poetry had rewarded the old king by imbuing his daughter with every loveable gift. When she appeared at the feasts, surrounded by a band of graceful maidens all arrayed in white, to listen to the friendly contests of the poets, and blushingly crowned the victor with a garland of sweetest flowers, she might have been taken for the embodiment of the sacred art.
One sorrow alone disturbed this earthly paradise. The King grew daily older, and there seemed no prospect of a suitable marriage being arranged for the Princess. No subject could dare raise his eyes to so perfect a creature, they looked upon her as a supernatural being, and the princes from foreign lands, who had been attracted by her beauty , seemed all too unworthy of such a prize. The culture of the court repelled them, and soon it was rumoured everywhere that this royal family was so proud and high minded that no prince could endure to be brought in contact with it. This rumour was not altogether unfounded.
The King was descended from an ancient Eastern Dynasty, and his wife had been the last descendant of the celebrated warrior Rustum. His poets sounded the praise of his ancestors, the divine rulers of the Universe, and in their magic utterances he perceived clearly how high he was placed above all other kings. In vain he looked for another Rustum for a son-in-law, as he knew full well that the safety of the realm and the happiness of his daughter called for her marriage.
Not far from his capital lived an old man on a secluded property, who devoted himself to the education of his only son. His only other interest was giving advice to his poor neighbours in cases of illness and sorrow. The youth was grave and studious, devoted to nature, and the sciences which his father taught him. The old man had many years before migrated from distant lands into this blossoming country, to enjoy the peace and prosperity which was the result of the king's wise government.
He made use of his leisure to seek out the secrets of nature, and share his accumulated knowledge with his son. At first sight there was nothing striking in the youths appearance, except the intelligence of his eyes. But the more one looked at him, the more attractive he became, and when one heard his sweet melodious voice discoursing on rare and hidden mysteries, he exercised a positive fascination.
One day the princess had ridden alone in the forest to enjoy absolute freedom of thought, and to learn some new and beautiful poem. The coolness of the forest tempted her on and on, until she reached the secluded house where the old man lived. Dismounting from her horse she fastened it to a tree, and going up to the door, she asked for a glass of milk.
The youth started at the sight of the enchanting maiden, whose majestic bearing had all the attraction of youth and beauty, together with the tender grace of a pure and noble soul. While he hastened to fulfil her wish, his father invited his guest to enter the house, and take a seat by the hearth, from which rose a light-blue noiseless flame.
At her entrance she was struck by a thousand unaccustomed objects, as well as by the order and beauty of the whole. A sacred influence seemed to pervade the dwelling, an impression heightened by the simple robes of the venerable old man, and the modest dignity of his son. The old man guessed from her rich and tasteful dress that she belonged to the court. During the youth's absence, she asked about some curiousities, especially some strange pictures placed near the hearth, which the old man explained to her clearly and attractively.
Soon the son returned with a jug of new milk, which he offered in an unaffected and respectful manner.
After some agreeable discourse, the Princess thanked them heartily for their hospitality, and , blushing, requested permission to come again and hear more about the wonderful curiousities which had so excited her interest. She then rode off, without betraying her rank, as she saw that neither father, nor son had guessed who she was. In spite of their close proximity to the capital, neither of them had ever cared to join in the Court festivities. They were absorbed in their own pursuits, and satisfied with each others society. The youth never cared to leave his father, save for an hour or two when he searched the forest for butterflies, rare insects and plants.
This chance meeting was a momentous one for both the youth and the maiden. The old man soon saw the deep impression that the stranger had made on his son. His youth and his tender heart made his first love all the stronger. The old man had long foreseen such a possibility, and felt sympathy with his son when he thought of their lovely and unexpected guest.
The princess felt a new sensation in her heart as she rode home. She foresaw the dawning of a new untried world. A magic veil seemed to shroud her clear perception, and she fancied she must have entered some supernatural world. Poetry which had formerly occupied her whole soul, seemed now a faint echo of distant times. On her return to the palace, she shrank from the splendour and magnificence, and felt ill at ease when her father welcomed her. She could not tell him of her adventure, but everyone was accustomed to her absence of mind and moods of abstraction to pay much attention. She was no longer full of spirit, every one around seemed strange, and an unknown depression weighed upon her, until a poet sang a song in praise of hope, setting forth the miracles of faith, which brought about the accomplishment of the hearts desires. This comforted her, and she fell asleep, soothed by the sweetest dreams.
After taking leave of the princess, the youth, who had followed her unseen to the palace, wandered for hours in the depths of the forest. On his way home he saw something bright lying in the path. He stooped to pick it up, and found it was a dark red gem, which sparkled on one side and bore mysterious characters on the reverse. It was a large carbuncle, and he remembered seeing it in the lovely maidens necklace. He hurried home and showed it to his father.
They settled that it would be best for the youth to see next morning whether any messengers were searching for it in the forest, but if not, to keep it until the lovely lady came to reclaim it herself. All night the youth looked at the dazzling gem, and when morning broke he wrote the following lines on the paper in which he wrapped it.
Deep in this gem do mystic letters glow
Deep in my heart a hidden love does grow
From one there rises sparks of unknown fire
The other is consumed with loves desire
In one the glorious light is buried deep
The other will loves impress ever keep
At the first streak of dawn he bent his way to the palace garden.
In the meantime, the Princess had discovered her loss. The precious stone was a talisman she had inherited from her mother, and which, as long as she wore it, preserved her from all human influence.
The loss surprised her more than alarmed her. On reflection she remembered wearing it the previous day, and never doubted that she had lost it either in the old mans house, or on the forest path. She determined to rise early and seek for it.
Early in the morning she passed through the garden, and went out into the forest. As she walked faster than usual, it seemed quite natural that her heart should beat quickly.
The sun rose, guilding the tips of the large forest trees , which rustled and quivered as if greeting its beams. Just then a slight noise in the bushes startled the princess, and looking around she saw the youth.
Motionless with surprise at the lovely apparition he stood speechless. At last they greeted one another with the cordiality of old friends. Before the Princess could explain the cause of her early walk, he handed her the precious talisman with burning cheeks and a beating heart. She took it silently in a trembling hand and, and as a guerdon, threw a gold chain over his neck. He knelt at her feet in speechless delight, and she took leave of him with gracious words of thanks, promising to come soon again to see his fathers strange and curious collection.
The youth bowed respectfully, and watched her retreating form until lost to sight.
Soon she repeated her visit, and scarcely a morning passed that the youth did not meet her at the garden gate and accompany her on long rambles in the forest glades. She kept her birth and rank a perfect secret, it seemed as if she dreaded the result of letting it be known. The youth grew daily more deeply in love with her. He and his father looked upon her as some noble damsel attached to the Court. She showed the old man the affection of a daughter, and soon felt at home in the wonderful house in the forest. At times she brought her lute, and sang divinely to the old man, while the youth lay at her feet drinking in the heavenly tones of her voice. In return he taught her many secrets of nature, he told her how the earth had been created by a wondrous action of sympathy, and how the stars joined together in harmonious motion. She was delighted with all he taught her, still more with which he learned to play her lute to accompany his poetical improvisations.
They were returning home one day, when his words touched her more deeply than usual. Drawn together by sudden attraction they exchanged the first kiss. At that moment a terrific clap of thunder broke overhead, and seemed to echo round and round the forest glades. Threatening clouds swept up from the horizon, and blotted out the light of day.
The youth's first thought was to obtain shelter for his lovely companion. Hurrying thorough the trees, he soon saw that he had lost his way. He was overpowered by anxiety, and no less was the princess as she thought of her fathers dismay when her absence was discovered. Only the loving words of the youth sustained her courage. At last by a vivid flash of lightning, they perceived the opening into a cavern on a steep hillside. There they hoped to find shelter from the storm, and a place of rest and safety. Fortune favoured them. The cavern was high and dry, and carpeted with soft green moss.
The youth quickly lighted a fire of brushwood, by which they could dry themselves. Here they were safe, secluded from the world, and sheltered from the roar o the elements.
A wild almond tree hung laden with fruit over the entrance to the cave, and by following the sound of a nearby trickling they found fresh water to quench their thirst. The boy had brought the lute, and she enjoyed his cheering songs and reassuring conversation by the crackling fire.
It seemed that a higher force wanting to release the knot more quickly, had brought them under the strange circumstances of this romantic situation. The innocence of their hearts, the enchanting mood of their minds, joined the irresistible force of their sweet passion and their youth. Soon they had forgotten the world and their predicament, and under the bridal hymn of the storm and the wedding torch procession of the flashes they were soon rapt in the sweetest intoxication and bliss ever known by two mortals.
The dawning of the clear blue morning saw them awakening to a new blessed world. However the flow of warm tears, that soon broke forth from the eyes of the princess, betrayed to her lover an awakening thousandfold grief of heart. Overnight he had transformed from a boy to a man. And with effusive enthusiasm he comforted his lover, reminding her of the holiness of their true love, and in the high belief which it inspired and asked of them. They should be fully confident to expect the most cheerful future by the protecting angel of their heart.
The princess could feel the truth in his comforting words, and revealed to him that she was the daughter of the king, and only anxious because of the pride and the grief of her father.
They determined to take counsel with the old man, and the youth sped on his way, promising to return soon. He soon reached his father's house, and was joyfully received. After deep deliberation on the subject of the young lovers, he proposed to conduct the Princess to some subterranean rooms beneath his house, which were so skilfully arranged that they were absolutely undiscoverable. When twilight fell, the youth led her to his father's home, where she was most lovingly received. At times she wept when she thought of her father's sorrowing heart, but she hid her grief from her lover, only confiding in his father, who prophesied that all would be well.
In the meantime, the Court was in dismay when evening came, and the Princess was nowhere to be found. The King sent messengers in all directions. No one could explain the mysterious disappearance. As for an elopement, that never occurred to anyone, for there was no one to whom the Princess had ever been seen to favour. The messengers returned one after the other with the same hopeless tale, and the King sank into despairing melancholy. Only when his singers surrounded him at night and sang of hope, he took courage and believed that someday his adored daughter would return. But as soon as he was alone again, his sorrow overwhelmed him, and he wept aloud.
Then he thought 'Of what avail my grandeur and my rank? I am more miserable than any man ever was. Nothing can replace my daughter. Without her even song is but empty words and illusion. It was she who lent enchantment to the song, and gave it form and life. Would that I were the most insignificant of my own subjects, and had my daughter back again. It is not the crown and sceptre that makes the king - it is the feeling of complete satisfaction, the plenitude of earthly joy, the sensation of superabundant possessions. Now my pride is punished, the loss of my wife did not shake it - and now I am condemned to endless woe. Thus did the poor old king mourn. At times his old pride and severity were more apparent than ever. He scorned complaint, he would suffer in silence and patience as was fitting for a King.
He was convinced that no one had ever known such sorrow as his. When he wandered into his daughters apartments in the gathering gloom , and saw all her treasured possessions lying about as she left them, grief overpowered him, and he was willing to accept the compassion of the most humble of his household.
All the citizens and his subjects mourned for him, but there was a secret belief that the Princess was alive and would come back some day. So passed many months, and spring returned. 'Now the Princess will come too,' passed from mouth to mouth. Even the King grew more cheerful and hopeful. The former festivities were resumed, and only the princess was lacking to complete the glory of the court. One evening on the anniversary of her disappearance a brilliant assembly was gathered in the garden. The air was soft and warm, a slight breeze rustled amid the branches of the old trees, as if announcing a welcome message. A fountain rose to a stupendous height, reflecting innumerable lights and torches, and its splashing waters formed a harmonious accompaniment to the music and song which resounded under the lofty trees. The King was seated on a gorgeous carpet, surrounded by Courtiers in festal robes.
The garden was thronged. Amid the merry groups sat the old king lost in silence and thought. A vision of his lost daughter rose clearly before him, as he pondered over the happy days that had come to so cruel a close one year ago. Grief and longing overpowered him, and hot tears ran down his furrowed cheeks. The past year seemed like a cruel nightmare, and as he raised his eyes, he fancied that he must again behold the much-loved form.
The poets had just finished their recitations, and a deep silence and emotion fell on all, for the last poet had sung of the joys of meeting again, the glory of spring that spoke of never ending hope. Suddenly the silence was broken by a light touch on a lute, and a rich melodious voice rose at a little distance, under a wide spreading oak.
All eyes turned in that direction, and perceived a youth clad in a foreign dress, simple and graceful, holding a lute in his hand. He continued his song, when the King turned to listen he bowed deeply. The voice was extraordinarily beautiful, the song still more so. He sang of the creation of the world, the beginning of the stars, plants, animals, and men, of the long forgotten golden days when love and poetry were lords of all.
Then he described the advent of hate and cruelty, their ceaseless strife with love, ending in the triumph of love over all, the end of sorrow, and return of the Golden Age, and the restoration of nature to never ending youth and beauty.
The poets drew nearer the youth, impressed by the beauty of his song. All present were thrilled with new-born delight, and the King was overpowered with enthusiasm and a heavenly calm. Such a song had never been heard. All thought the youth some supernatural visitor, especially as they marked the beauty of his countenance, and listened to his marvellous accents. As he played, the breeze stirred his long golden locks, the lute seemed animated with fresh life and his soft deep eyes gazed into a hidden world.
Even the calm innocence of his expression denoted no mortal man. At last the glorious melody ceased. The most aged of the poets pressed the youthful singer to his heart, with eyes glistening with tears of joy. A murmur of applause rose among the entranced audience. The King came forward to greet the minstrel, who flung himself at his feet. The King raised him and bid him ask a wish. He begged permission to sing another song, and it was granted.
The king withdrew a few paces and the youth began.
The Singer goes on harsh paths,
Tears in thorns his robe;
He must bathe through river and swamps,
With no help at hand.
Alone and pathless flows in complaining
Now over his fatigued heart;
He can now hardly carry the lute,
And a deep pain overpowers him.
A sad fate has called me
I leave Completely insane,
I brought pleasure and peace to all,
But none would share them with me.
It becomes an each of his property
And his life gladly through me;
However they point with meager present
The heart demand of itself.
One read me quietly say goodbye,
As one wander sees the spring;
It becomes itself none around him grieve,
If he pulls sadly from then.
Demanding to see the fruit,
And do not know, that he sat with them;
I can compose heaven for them,
However they do not perceive my prayer.
I feel gratefully make magic
At these lips a feast is prepared.
O! tied only to my rights
Itself also the love magic.
It troubles none itself the poor,
It inadequately from the distance came;
What heart will pity his silence
And solve his deep grief?'
He sinks down in the high grass,
And falls asleep, cheeks wet with tears;
There the high spirit of the songs hovers
In the oppressed chest in:
Now forget what you have suffered,
In short declines your load,
Which you looked for nothing in cottages,
That become you find in the palace.
You approach the supreme earth wages,
Soon the devourer terminates course;
A crown becomes the myrtle wreath,
The most faithful hand puts it on you
A heart full harmony is summoned
To the glory around a throne;
The poet climbs to harsh levels
Upward, and becomes the king son.'
The poet stopped, and amazement could be seen on every face. During the song, an old man leading a veiled figure, bearing in her arms a smiling cherub, came forward from behind the singer. The babe held out its dimpled hands to the king, and laughed merrily at the assembled Courtiers. The general surprise was heightened when the King's tame eagle, which was ever by his side, flew down to the poet, and placed a golden circle on his brow. The stranger started, and the bird leaving the diadem on his flowing locks, returned to the king. Giving it to the Child, who stretched out his hand to take it, the poet kneeling on one knee before the monarch, continued with deepest pathos:
The Singer drives from beautiful traumas
With glad impatience up;
He/it changes under high trees
To the palace the gate of honour.
The walls are sharpened like steel,
However she/it climbs his song @@geschwind,
It climbs by Sweetly love and woe seized
To him/it down the king child.
The love compresses them/it/her firmly,
The sound of the tanks drives away them/it/her;
You/They blaze up in sweeten flames,
In the @@nachtlich sanctuary calm.
You/They hold timidly hidden,
Because she/it frightens the anger of the king;
And become now from each morning
To pain and pleasure at the same time rouses.
The Singer speaks with soft sounds
The new mother hope a;
Since steps, attracted from the songs,
The king in the gap in.
The daughter extend in golden curls
The grandson of the chest him/it there;
They sink repentantly and frightened,
And mildly dissolves his severe sense.
The love yields and the song
Also on the throne a Fathers heart,
And changes soon in sweet spur
To @@ewger pleasure the deep pain.
The love gives, which they snatched,
With rich usury soon back,
And under the @@Versöhnungsküssen
Develops a gloriously luck.
Spirit of the song, come you down low,
And stand also now the love at;
Bring home the lost daughter again,
That you be the king father! -
That he/it encloses with delights them/it/her,
And his grandson pities,
And if the heart overflows him/it,
The Singer also as son embraces.
At the conclusion of the song, the singer withdrew the veil in which the slight woman's form was wrapped. The Princess fell sobbing at her father's feet, holding up the lovely babe. Beside her knelt the youth.
A breathless pause ensued. For a few moments the King remained grave and silent, then he pressed his daughter to his heart, and wept aloud. He then raised up the kneeling youth, and embraced him tenderly. A fulsome cheer rose from the assembly. The King then took the Child in his arms and held it aloft to the heavens with a touching air of devotion, then he welcomed the old man. Tears of joy filled every eye at this spectacle. The poets celebrated the occasion in glowing verse, and this auspicious evening was but a foretaste of the peace and joy which overspread the whole country.
This happy land has vanished. Old legends only record that Atlantis was swallowed by the sea.