Well—this lasted for some time; the old hermit sanctioning with his smiles the endearments of the fond pair; for he knew that Undine’s only chance of happiness was in the constancy of the stranger knight—for she had forfeited her immortal nature, and trusted all her rich treasure of hope and happiness to a human love! How precious the cargo! how frail the bark! what a little tempest will shatter this slight vessel, and strew the glittering fragments of its freight upon the sands!
Anon came a gallant array of knights from his father’s court, to conduct our bewildered lover back to life. Congratulations upon his safety, and the evident joy which dwelt upon the features of his friends, at length subdued him, and he consented to return to the gay world. He sought once more his Undine in her favorite bower; and as he approached, a strain of most exquisite music stole upon his ear. He listened, and heard the voice of his own—his beloved—pour forth her soul:
“Farewell, farewell! ye dreams which were my being, And are no more—at least, no more to me; I see ye dimly from my presence fleeing— I know—I know—ye never more can be Solace or joy of mine! How weak to trust Undying love like mine to mortal formed of dust!
“Farewell, farewell! ye bright-winged sister spirits, Immortal in your beauty and your truth! I cannot envy ye—my soul inherits A dowry dearer than immortal youth, E’en from the fulness of my present joy, While yet I linger near my beauteous island-boy!
“Ah! for one thrill of love to wring with bliss The delicate fibres of a heart like mine, I’d pay again the price I pay for this! And, though for me no more the stars shall shine, Or flowers around their odorous breath distil, Or nightly revels on the moon-lit hill
“Awake me with their echoes—yet the _sense_ _Of human love_, and that I _was_ adored With warm and human energy, shall dispense Fragrance immortal o’er me, when I’ve poured The essence of my being out, and died— The victim of immortal love and mortal pride!”
Wildly he rushed into the arbor, and clasped the fairy woman over and over to his breast—swearing and protesting most vehemently that he would only go and see his father and receive his blessing, and his mother’s kiss, and his sister’s farewell embrace, and then straightway return to the island and his fairy bride. And so, he again pressed her little bosom to his own, and kissed her lips, and she, poor thing! believed him—for she was nothing but a woman then, and had lost her fairy sagacity—and twining her beautiful limbs around him, as if she would grow there forever, she flooded his bosom with her pure warm tears; and gently removing her now insensible form to a green bank, strown with violets, and calling the good old hermit from the hut, he rushed out, and mounting his gallant steed, dashed wildly across the Rhine, and bent his way to his father’s castle.