I have marked it well, it must be true,

271

Death never takes one alone, but two!
Whenever he enters in at a door,
Under roof of gold or roof of thatch,
He always leaves it upon the latch,
And comes again ere the year is o'er.
Never one of a household only!
Perhaps it is a mercy of God,
Lest the dead there under the sod,
In the land of strangers, should be
lonely!

280

I know that his heart is not in his work!

And when he comes home to me at night

289 He is not cheery, but sits and sighs, And I see the great tears in his

eyes,

And try to be cheerful for his sake.
Only the children's hearts are light.
Mine is weary, and ready to break.
God help us! I hope we have done
right;

We thought we were acting for the
best!

Looking through the open door.

Who is it coming under the trees?
A man, in the Prince's livery dressed!
He looks about him with doubtful
face,

Ah me! I think I am lonelier here!
It is hard to go, but harder to stay!
Were it not for the children, I should He stops at the beehives;-
As if uncertain of the place.

pray

That Death would take me within the

year!

And Gottlieb!- he is at work all day,
In the sunny field, or the forest murk,
But I know that his thoughts are far
away,

sees

300

-now he

The garden gate; - he is going past!
Can he be afraid of the bees?
No: he is coming in at last!
He fills my heart with strange alarm!
Enter a Forester.

FORESTER.

Is this the tenant Gottlieb's farm?

URSULA.

This is his farm, and I his wife.
Pray sit. What may your business
be!

FORESTER.

News from the Prince!

URSULA.

FORESTER.

Your daughter lives, and the Prince is well!

You will learn erelong how it all befell.

330

Her heart for a moment never failed;
But when they reached Salerno's gate,
The Prince's nobler self prevailed,
And saved her for a noble fate.
And he was healed, in his despair,
By the touch of St. Matthew's sacred
bones;

Of death or life? Though I think the long ride in the

open air,

That pilgrimage over stocks and

I did not tell you she was dead;
If you thought so 't was no fault of
mine;

At this very moment, while I speak,
They are sailing homeward down the
Rhine,

In a splendid barge, with golden prow,
And decked with banners white and
red

As the colors on your daughter's
cheek.

They call her the Lady Alicia now;
For the Prince in Salerno made a