At Aachen, in imperial state, In that time-hallow'd hall renown'd, At solemn feast King Rudolf sate, The day that saw the hero crown'd! Bohemia and thy Palgrave, Rhine, Give this the feast, and that the wine; The Arch Electoral Seven, Like choral stars around the sun, Gird him whose hand a world has won, The anointed choice of Heaven. In galleries raised above the pomp, Press'd crowd on crowd, their panting way; And with the joy-resounding tromp, Rang out the million's loud hurra! For closed at last the age of slaughter, When human blood was pour'd as water-- LAW dawns upon the world![6] Sharp Force no more shall right the wrong, And grind the weak to crown the strong-- War's carnage-flag is furl'd! In Rudolf's hand the goblet shines-- And gaily round the board look'd he; "And proud the feast, and bright the wines, My kingly heart feels glad to me! Yet where the lord of sweet desire, Who moves the heart beneath the lyre, And dulcet Sound Divine? Dear from my youth the craft of song, And what as knight I loved so long, As Kaisar, still be mine." Lo, from the circle bending there, With sweeping robe the Bard appears, As silver, white his gleaming hair, Bleach'd by the many winds of years: "And music sleeps in golden strings-- The minstrel's hire, the LOVE he sings; Well known to him the ALL High thoughts and ardent souls desire!-- What would the Kaisar from the lyre Amidst the banquet-hall?" The Great One smiled--"Not mine the sway-- The minstrel owns a loftier power-- A mightier king inspires the lay-- Its hest--THE IMPULSE OF THE HOUR! As through wide air the tempests sweep, As gush the springs from mystic deep, Or lone untrodden glen; So from dark hidden fount within, Comes SONG, its own wild world to win Amidst the souls of men!" Swift with the fire the minstrel glow'd, And loud the music swept the ear:-- "Forth to the chase a Hero rode, To hunt the bounding chamois-deer: With shaft and horn the squire behind:-- Through greensward meads the riders wind-- A small sweet bell they hear. Lo, with the HOST, a holy man,-- Before him strides the sacristan, And the bell sounds near and near. The noble hunter down-inclined His reverent head and soften'd eye, And honour'd with a Christian's mind The Christ who loves humility! Loud through the pasture, brawls and raves A brook--the rains had fed the waves, And torrents from the hill. His sandal shoon the priest unbound, And laid the Host upon the ground, And near'd the swollen rill!