Up there in the starry heavens We see questions which are waiting For an answer; who can give it?' So he stayed here in the cavern, And the grief which overwhelmed him Was dissolved in tender sadness. Oft I saw him gently weeping; Oft, when a melodious wailing Through the columns' hollow shafts rang, He sat there, his sweet songs singing. But he gradually grew silent. Did I ask him what he wanted, Then he smiling took my hand: 'Gnome, I many songs can sing thee, But the best I have not sung yet. Will you know its name? 'Tis silence. Silence--silence! oh how well one Learns it here in thy deep cavern; Depth creates true modesty. But the cold is o'er me creeping; Gnome! 'tis true, my poor heart freezes. Gnome! dost thou know what true love is? If for diamonds thou art digging, And dost find them, take them with thee, Guard them safely in thy cavern. Gnome, thy heart will never freeze then!' "These the last words he has spoken. Now for years he has been silent In this spot. He has not died yet Nor is living, but his body Slowly into stone is changing; And I nurse him; heartfelt pity For my silent guest I cherish, Often try to cheer his spirit With the columns' solemn music, And I know it pleases him. Without taking any freedom, I think you too are a minstrel; And the service you can do me Is to play before my guest here." Then young Werner took his trumpet And began to play; his mournful Strains were ringing through the cavern As if breathing forth deep pity. Then in thinking of his own love, Through the sadness now there mingled Strains of joy--first faint and distant, Then came nearer--fresher, fuller, And the last notes sounded like a Glorious hymn on Easter morning. And the silent man then listened, Nodded gently with his head. Fare-thee-well, dream on in peace, thou Silent man, in thy still cavern, Till the fulness comes of knowledge And of love, to wake the sleeper.