With a vigorous hand he pushed back the friends who would have held him and replaced him in his chair. Now he was no longer a weak and decrepit old man; he felt strong and active, and he hastened forward with a rapid step through the orchestra toward the conductor's seat and the piano in front of it. He laid his hands, which trembled no longer, on the keys, and struck a full concord. He turned his face toward the imperial box; his eyes beamed with love and exultation, and he began to play his favorite hymn with impressive enthusiasm-- the hymn which he had composed ten years ago in the days of Austria's adversity, and which he had sung every day since then,-- the hymn, "Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser, unsern guten Kaiser Franz!" And the audience rose and gazed with profound emotion upon Joseph Haydn's gleaming face, and then up to the emperor, who was standing smilingly in his box, and the empress, from whose eyes two large tears rolled down her pale cheeks; and with one accord the vast crowd commenced singing: "Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser, Unsern guten Kaiser Franz! Lange lebe Franz der Kaiser In des Glueckes hellem Kranz! Ihm erbluehen Lorbeerreiser, Wo er geht, zum Ehrenkranz. Gott erhalte--" [Footnote: "God preserve the emperor Francis, our good emperor! Long live Francis, brightest gem In fair Fortune's diadem O'er him see the laurel wave, Honoring the true, the brave! God preserve--"] Haydn's hands dropped exhausted from the keys; his form rocked to and fro, and, half fainting, he sank back into the arms of Salieri and Kreutzer. The audience paused; all forgot the imperial hymn, and looked only at the venerable old maestro, whom Salieri and Kreutzer lowered now softly into the easy-chair, which had been brought to them. "Take me home, dear ones," he said, faintly, "sing on, my 'Creation'; my soul will remain with you, but my body can no longer stay. Old age has broken its strength. Farewell, farewell, all of you! My soul will always be among you when you sing my music; my body will go, but the soul will remain. Farewell!" And the votaries of art who had conveyed him to the hall now placed the maestro's chair again on their shoulders, and carried it slowly through the hall toward the entrance. The audience stood in silent reverence and looked up to Haydn's passing form, and durst not break this profound stillness by uttering a sound. They bade farewell to the universally beloved and revered maestro only by bowing their heads to him and shedding tears of emotion--farewell for evermore! The solemn procession had now arrived at the door. Joseph Haydn lifted his weary head once more; his spirit gleamed once more in his eyes; an expression of unutterable love beamed from his mild face; he stretched out his arms toward the orchestra as if to bless it, and greeted it with his smile, with the nodding of his head, and the tears which filled his eyes. [Footnote: "Zeitgenossen," third series, vol iv., p. 33]