The guests were now assembled at table; Bertalda sat at the top,
adorned with flowers like the goddess of spring, and flashing with
jewels, the gifts of many friends and relations. Undine and Huldbrand
were on either side of her. When the sumptuous meal was ended, and the
dessert served, the doors were opened--according to the good old
German custom--to let the common people look in and have their share
in the gaiety of the rich. The attendants offered wine and cake to the
assembled crowd. Huldbrand and Bertalda were eagerly watching for the
promised disclosure, and both kept their eyes fixed upon Undine. But
she was still silent; her cheeks dimpled occasionally with a bright,
conscious smile. Those that knew what she was about to do, could
perceive that her interesting secret was ready to burst from her lips,
but that she was playfully determined to keep it in, as children
sometimes will save their daintiest morsels for the last. Her silent
glee communicated itself to the other two, who watched impatiently for
the happy news that was about to gladden their hearts. Some of the
company now asked Undine for a song. She seemed to be prepared with
one, and sent for her lute, to which she sang as follows:--
The sun gilds the wave,
The flowers are sweet,
And the ocean doth lave
The grass at our feet!
What lies on the earth
So blooming and gay?
Doth a blossom peep forth
And greet the new day?
Ah, 'tis a fair child!
She sports with the flowers,
So gladsome and mild,
Through the warm sunny hours
O sweet one, who brought thee?
From far distant shore
Old Ocean he caught thee,
And many a league bore.
Poor babe, all in vain
Thou dost put forth thy hand
None clasp it again,
'Tis a bleak foreign land:
The flowers bloom brightly,
And soft breathes the air,
But all pass thee lightly:
Thy mother is far!
Thy life scarce begun,
Thy smiles fresh from heaven,
Thy best treasure is gone,
To another 'tis given.
A gallant charger treads the dell,
His noble rider pities thee;
He takes thee home, he tends thee well,
And cares for thee right gen'rously.
Well thou becom'st thy station high,
And bloom'st the fairest in the land;
And yet, alas! the purest joy
Is left on thine own distant strand.
Undine put down her lute with a melancholy smile and the eyes of the
Duke and Duchess filled with tears: "So it was when I found you, my
poor innocent orphan!" said the Duke with great emotion "as the fair
singer said, your best treasure was gone and we have been unable to
supply its place."
"Now let us think of the poor parents," said Undine and she struck
the chords and sang:--
I
Mother roves from room to room
Seeking rest, she knows not how,
The house is silent as the tomb,
And who is there to bless her now?