The day is done; and slowly from the scene The stooping sun upgathers his spent shafts, And puts them back into his golden quiver! Below me in the valley, deep and green As goblets are, from which in thirsty draughts We drink its wine, the swift and mantling river Flows on triumphant through these lovely regions Etched with the shadows of its sombre margent, And soft, reflected clouds of gold and argent! Yes, there it flows, for ever, broad and still, As when the vanguard of the Roman legions First saw it from the top of yonder hill! How beautiful it is! Fresh fields of wheat; Vineyard and town, and tower with fluttering flag, The consecrated chapel on the crag, And the white hamlet gathered round its base, Like Mary sitting at her Saviour’s feet, And looking up at his beloved face! O friend! O best of friends! Thy absence more Than the impending night darkens the landscape o’er! The next three scenes are exquisite in conception and execution. Prince Henry has found refuge In the Odenwald. Some of his tenants unappalled By fear of death or priestly word— _A holy family that make_ _Each meal a supper of the Lord—_ Have him beneath their watch and ward. For love of him, and Jesus’ sake! The pictures which follow of Gottlieb, his wife Ursula, and Elsie, his daughter, the heroine of the poem, are beautiful and touching representations of the sturdy honesty and sublime simplicity of faith, which distinguished the religious German peasant-family of the old time. A legend of the Monk Felix, which Prince Henry reads, while Elsie is gathering flowers for him and for St. Cecelia, is truly “golden.” We cannot resist the temptation to quote a portion of it. One morning, all alone, Out of his convent of gray stone, Into the forest older, darker, grayer, His lips moving as if in prayer, His head sunken upon his breast As in a dream of rest, Walked the Monk Felix. All about The brood, sweet sunshine lay without, Filling the summer air; And within the woodlands as he trod, The twilight was like the Truce of God With worldly wo and care; Under him lay the golden moss; And above him the boughs of hemlock-trees Waved, and made the sign of the cross, And whispered their Benedicites; And from the ground Rose an odor sweet and fragrant Of the wild-flowers and the vagrant Vines that wandered, Seeking the sunshine, round and round.