“How shall I know myself without thee, Who knew myself as part of thee? I only know one half is vanished, And half alone is left, of me. Never again my proper mind I’ll know; for thee I’ll never find. Never again, out there in space, I’ll find thee; but here, deep within. I see, tho’ not in dreams, thy face; My waking eyes thy presence win, And all my thought and poesy Are but my offering to thee. ... My Jonathan, now hast thou fled, And I to weep thy loss remain; If David’s harp might grace my hands O might it help to ease my pain! My friend, my Joseph, true of faith, In life so loved—so loved in death.” [Sidenote: _Rough Weather Friends_] And the following are by Joseph Kitir, an Austrian poet:— “Not where breathing roses bless The night, or summer airs caress; Not in Nature’s sacred grove; No, but at a tap-room table, Sitting in the window-gable Did we plight our troth of love. No fair lime tree’s roofing shade By the spring wind gently swayed Formed for us a bower of bliss; No, stormbound, but love-intent, There against the damp wall bent We two bartered kiss for kiss. Therefore shalt thou, Love so rare (Child of storms and wintry air), Not like Spring’s sweet fragrance fade. Even in sorrow thou shalt flourish, Frost shall not make thee afraid, And in storms thou shalt not perish.” [Sidenote: _Ludwig II. to Richard Wagner_] On p. 154, 155 above are given some letters of Richard Wagner relative to Ludwig II.’s deep attachment to him. Below are some of the actual letters of Ludwig to Wagner. (See Prof. C. Beyer’s book, _Ludwig II., König von Bayern_.) “Dear Friend, O I see clearly that your sufferings are deep-rooted! You tell me, beloved friend, that you have looked deep into the hearts of men, and seen there the villainy and corruption that dwells within. Yes, I believe you, and I can well understand that moments come to you of disgust with the human race; yet always will we remember (will we not, beloved?) that there are yet many noble and good people, for whom it is a real pleasure to live and work. And yet you say you are no use for this world!—I pray you, do not despair, your true friend conjures you; have Courage: ‘Love helps us to bear and suffer all things, love brings at last the victor’s crown!’ Love recognises, even in the most corrupt, the germ of good; she alone overcomes all!—Live on, darling of my soul. I recall your own words to you. To learn to forget is a noble work!—Let us be careful to hide the faults of others; it was for all men indeed that the Saviour died and suffered. And now, what a pity that ‘Tristan’ can not be presented to-day; will it perhaps to-morrow? Is there any chance? Unto death your faithful friend, LUDWIG.” _15th May, 1865._ “_Purschling_, _4th Aug., 1865_.