Hot scorn flushed the face of the old hero when he heard these words; grief and fury took possession of him, and he rode through the castle-gates with speed. All opened a way for him with fear and reverence; and he soon threw himself from his horse at the palace-doors. With trembling step he mounted into the marble halls. "Am I here," he cried, "in the dwelling of the man who was once my friend?" He tried to collect his thoughts; but dreadful visions seemed to rise before him: and he staggered wildly into the duke's presence. Not aware of his arrival, Burgundy uttered a cry of alarm, as he found himself confronted with the old man. "Art thou the Duke of Burgundy?" asked the old hero. The duke replied, "I am." "And hast thou caused my son Dietrich to die?" The duke answered, "Yes." "And my youngest boy! my Conrad!--was not he too good and beautiful for thy sword?--hast thou killed him too?" "I have," said the duke again. And Eckart replied, as he shed tears, "Oh, say not that! say not that, Burgundy!--for I cannot bear those words: recall them. Say, at least, that it repents you of all you have done; and I will yet try to take comfort, though you have now done your worst to break my heart." The duke answered, "Away! thou faithless traitor! hence from my sight! thou art the bitterest enemy I have on the face of the earth." Eckart stood firm, and said, "Heretofore thou didst call me thy best friend; but good thoughts are now become strange to thee. Never did I aught against thy honour: nay, I have revered and loved thee as my true prince, so help me God! or here, with this hand upon my good sword, I could take speedy and bitter vengeance for all my wrongs. But no; I will for ever banish myself from your presence, and end my few and evil days in solitude and woe." Having uttered these sad words, Eckart turned away; while Burgundy, agitated with hateful passions, called aloud for his pages and his lancers, who surrounded the old hero, and followed him with the points of their spears out of the duke's palace; none venturing, though at their lord's command, to put him to death. Away he spurred at speed, Eckart that noblest knight; And spoke, "No more I heed The world, nor wrong, nor right. My sons are gone, and I Am left to mourn alone; My prince would have me die; And friends I have not one." Then made he to the woods, And with full heart did strive To bear his dismal moods-- To bear his woes and live. "I fly man's hated face! Ye mountains, lakes, and trees, Be now my resting-place, And join your tears to these. No child beguiles my grief; Their lives were sworn away; Their days were all too brief-- My last one they did slay!" Thus wild did Eckart weep, Till mind and sense were gone; Then madly down the steep He spurr'd his true steed on.