Part XVIII

Ten years he had been now within the four
Walls of his prison cell. Out in the world e'en
Ten years are a long stretch of time. Far more
Far more, within that dreadful gruesome place.
His beard and hair grew to uncommon length
And often he would try to see if they

Gray had become. He always found them black,
rl hough they were white, as white as is the snow,
The darkness showed him but one color: black.

Ten years were gone. These ten years were to him:
One long, one endless night. He always asked
Himself: When will.it dawn? From time to time
It seemed to him as if he had been there
A hundred years, yea, e'en a thousand years,
That long ago the judgment-day had passed,
The world destroyed, — this prison only left,
In which by chance he had forgotten been.

AH passion in his heart had long since died,
He nevermore cursed God, ne'er thought of him,
Even the woe within his heart had died.
But now and then, when from his dreams he rose,
He'd weep, because the apparition which
He recognized to be the spirit of
His love-adored, — faithful beyond the grave —
Had called again and then often again.
But e'er as soon as from his dreams he woke,
The beauteous phantom disappeared and he
Heartrendingly would moan and groan and weep.
But why, — he asked himself — comes not my son?
Did I not have a son? Could he not come?
And to himself he then would answer thus:
"My son is surely yet alive, but still
He can not come, for those can only come
Here w,ho are dead and only you can come,
Beloved angel mine! My son's alive
And is to manhood grown. Oh, how I long
To know what has become of you, my son,
My poor beloved orphan boy. Who knows
What end he came to by the force of fate?
He may a robber have become and 'neath
The gallows buried lie. Or followed he
'My footsteps and like me a prisoner now,
Right here, my neighbor he in near-by cell?
My son! my son! do you your father love?

Do you remember me my darling son

But hark! what's this? A voice unheard till then.
The prisoner listens, with tense nerves he lists,
Dares not even breathe; what reached his ears
Unlocked his pent-up soul as sunrays ope
The budding rose. A smile showed on his lips,
The first smile during all these long ten years.

A bird has come to rest upon the wall
Of his forsaken prison, 'neath the small
Blind window, where it sang its doleful lay.
How sweetly did it sing! The prisoner said, —
Or did he only think it, being scared,
That with 'his loud speech ,he might chase away
The welcome visitor whose song he heard —
"Oh, God! how sweet it sounds! In all these years
Never yet have I heard the songbird's voice
Ring out to cheer me here and I have been
Here many a year. Sing! sing again sweet bird,
Thy song reminds me of my former life.
Reminds me, even now I am alive,
Reminds me of the days now long since gone,
The springtide of my life, of which fair spring's
Comely flower is our youth's first love.
Thy song reneweth all my heart felt woe,
But sweetest solace does it also bring,
And woe, by consolation assuaged
Is sweeter then the pleasures we enjoy.
Sing on, my little bird! W'ho sent thee here,
Who told thee to alight upon this wall
On which ere this naught else but curses fell?
But oh, ye heavens, a presentiment

Which comes to me and overwhelms my

thoughts,
Forbodeth an event which might occur
And if it does, might kill me with its joy.
It tells me that now I shall soon be free,
That not within this pest-hole will I die,
But die beneath God's dome, the beauteous sky,
Thou little bird upon the wall, who art
An unrestricted wanderer who roams
All o'er the earth in God's free air, thou art
A messenger anouncing freedom's dawn!
Yes, I have hopes, your coming augurs bliss.
Be strong, poor heart which sorrow could not crush,
' Let not the coming joy cause thee to break.
The world has weary grown to bear the yoke
And shakes it off, will of its shame be freed,
Will justice do to those who suffered much
For freedom's cause, will ope the dungeon-cells,
And tears of joy will greet the martyrs freed.
Thou little bird upon the wall who art
An unrestricted wanderer who roams
All o'er the earth in God's free air, thou art
A messenger anouncing freedom's dawn."

A rattling in the door-lock is now heard,
The bird — affright — takes to its wings. The door
Is opened wide, the jailor entereth.
"Go, you are free", he to the prisoner said.
The prisoner shrieks out a joyous shout
Grasps at his head as if to make sure
That it burst not or that his brain escape.
"I have it yet", — he cries with childish glee,
"I have it yet, my brains, not insane I!
I understand! I have my freedom gained.
The country's safe, my fatherland is free!"
The jailor with a scowl but says to him:
"What do you care about a fatherland,

Thank God that you are free and go now home."

The prisoner, though, heard not a word, his mind
Had wandered o'er the distance league on league
And sought the grave where rests his wife,
"To thee, beloved soul, I shall go -first."
He said. "To thee beloved one I go first,
As thou hast come to me. I'll kiss the earth
Which gave thee rest. Ah me! how long it takes
To break these chains, the minutes which it takes
To file them off are harder to endure
Than have been all these years of suffering."