In the distance lay Augsburg with its towers; far on the horizon glimmered the mirror of the fearful, mysterious stream. The mighty forest bowed with grave sympathy towards the wanderer; the notched mountain rested meaningly upon the plain, and both seemed to say, "Hasten on, O stream, thou dost not escape us. I will follow thee with winged ships. I will break thee, restrain thee, and swallow thee up in my bosom! O pilgrim, confide in us! Even he is our enemy whom we ourselves begat; let him make haste with his booty, he escapes us not." The poor pilgrim thought of olden times and their unspeakable delights; but how heavily did those dear recollections pass through his mind. The broad hat concealed a youthful face; it was pale as a night-flower. The balmy sap of youthful life had changed to tears, his swelling breath to deep sighs; an ashy paleness had usurped all color. On one side upon the declivity of the hill, he thought he saw a monk kneeling under an old oak tree. "Might not that possibly be the old chaplain?" he conjectured, without much surprise at the idea. The monk appeared larger and more unshapely the nearer he approached. He now discovered his mistake. It was an isolated rock, over which a tree was bending. With silent emotion he clasped the stone in his arms, and with loud sobbing pressed it to his breast. "O that yet your speech was preserved, and that the Holy Mother would give me some token! Am I then entirely miserable and abandoned? Dwells there then in this desert no holy one who would lend me his prayer? Dear father, at this time pray thou for me!" As he so thought to himself, the tree began to wave; the rock emitted a hollow sounds and as from a great depth beneath the earth, clear, sweet voices were heard singing:-- Her heart was full of gladness, For gladness knew she best; She nothing knew of sadness, With darling at her breast. She showered him with kisses, She kissed his cheek so warm,-- Encircled was with blisses Through darling's fairy form. The soft voices seemed to sing with infinite pleasure. They repeated the verse several times. All was quiet again, when the astonished pilgrim heard some one speaking to him from the tree:-- "If thou wilt play a song in honor of me upon thy lute, a little maiden will come for it; take her with thee and leave her not. Think of me when thou comest to the emperor. I have chosen this abode, that I may remain with my little child; let a strong, warm dwelling be built for me here. My little one has conquered death; trouble not thyself, I am with thee. Yet a while thou wilt remain upon earth, but the little girl will console thee, until thou also diest and enterest into our joy."