--The church was thronged: the hymn was raised;
"_Te Deum_" pealed from nations rather than
From choirs, in one great cry of "God be praised"
For one day's peace, after thrice ten dread years,
Each bloodier than the former: I arose,
With all the nobles, and as I looked down
Along the lines of lifted faces,--from
Our
bannered
and escutcheoned gallery, I 100
Saw, like a flash of lightning (for I saw
A moment and no more), what struck me sightless
To all else--the Hungarian's face!
Byron
_Ulr._ What name?
_Sieg._ Werner! _'twas_ mine.
_Ulr._ It must be so
No more: forget it.
_Sieg._ Never! never! all
My destinies were woven in that name: 90
It will not be engraved upon my tomb,
But it may lead me there.
_Ulr._ To the point----the Hungarian?
_Sieg._ Listen!
--The church was thronged: the hymn was raised;
"_Te Deum_" pealed from nations rather than
From choirs, in one great cry of "God be praised"
For one day's peace, after thrice ten dread years,
Each bloodier than the former: I arose,
With all the nobles, and as I looked down
Along the lines of lifted faces,--from
Our
bannered
and escutcheoned gallery, I 100
Saw, like a flash of lightning (for I saw
A moment and no more), what struck me sightless
To all else--the Hungarian's face!
I grew
Sick; and when I recovered from the mist
Which curled about my senses, and again
Looked down, I saw him not. The thanksgiving
Was over, and we marched back in procession.
_Ulr._ Continue.
_Sieg._ When we reached the Muldau's bridge,
The joyous crowd above, the numberless
Barks manned with revellers in their best garbs, 110
Which shot along the glancing tide below,
The decorated street, the long array,
The clashing music, and the thundering
Of far artillery, which seemed to bid
A long and loud farewell to its great doings,
The standards o'er me, and the tramplings round,
The roar of rushing thousands,--all--all could not
Chase this man from my mind, although my senses
No longer held him palpable.
_Ulr._ You saw him
No more, then?
_Sieg._ I looked, as a dying soldier 120
Looks at a draught of water, for this man;
But still I saw him not; but in his stead----
_Ulr._ What in his stead?
_Sieg._ My eye for ever fell
Upon your dancing crest; the loftiest.
As on the loftiest and the loveliest head,
It rose the highest of the stream of plumes,
Which overflowed the glittering streets of Prague.