E'en the rugged rock is sunken, Joy-drunken, At the Holy Mother's feet. Are the stones devotion keeping, Should not man for her be weeping Tears and blood in homage meet? The afflicted hither stealing Should be kneeling; Here will all obtain relief. Sorrow will no more be preying, Joyfully will all be saying: Long ago we were in grief. On the mountain, walls commanding Will be standing; In the vales will voices cry, When the bitter times are waking: Let the heart of none be aching, Thither to those places fly! Oh, thou Holy Virgin Mother! With another Heart the sorrowing wanders hence. Thou, Matilda, art revealing Love eternal to my feeling, Thou, the goal of every sense. Thou, without my questions daring, Art declaring When I shall attain to thee. Gaily in a thousand measures Will I praise creation's treasures, Till thou dost encircle me. Things unwonted, wonders olden! To you beholden, Ever in my heart remain. Memory her spell is flinging, Where light's holy fountain springing Washed away the dream of pain. During this song he had noticed nothing, but as he looked up, there appeared a young girl standing upon the rock, who kindly greeted him like an old acquaintance, and invited him to go to her dwelling, where she had already prepared an evening meal for him. Her whole behavior and carriage towards him were friendly. She asked him to tarry a few moments, while she stepped under the tree, and looking up with an indescribable smile, shook many roses from her apron upon the grass. She knelt silently by his side, but soon arose and led the pilgrim on. "Who has told thee about me?" asked the pilgrim. "Our mother." "Who is thy mother?" "The Mother of God." "How long hast thou been here?" "Since I came from the tomb." "Hast thou already been dead?" "How could I else be living?" "Livest thou entirely alone here?" "An old man is at home, yet I know many more who have lived." "Wouldst thou like to remain with me?" "Indeed I love thee." "How long hast thou known me?" "O! from olden times; my former mother, too, told me about thee." "Hast thou yet a mother?" "Yes; but really the same." "What is her name?" "Maria." "Who was thy father?" "The Count of Hohenzollern." "Him I also know." "Thou shouldst know him well, for he is also thy father." "My father is in Eisenach." "Thou hast more parents." "Whither are we going?" "Ever homewards."