262
The sun sank down again beneath the hill—
Again his first beams on the mountain fall;
And still the prince is wandering forth—and still
His footsteps honor not his golden hall.
But now what splendid rows of light are waking,
What more than sunshine from the earth is breaking?
The walls have put their bright apparel on,
And streams of fire from every door are thrown.
Trara! Trara! the trumpet's sounds invite
The neighbouring peasants to the festal board;
And every bosom trembles with delight,
While bearing its allegiance to its lord.
"O noble prince! our master and protector—
Noble prince! our lord and benefactor!"
He enters thro' the portal at the sound,
And then renew'd rejoicings swell around.
But the "renew'd rejoicings" soon are dumb,
And stillness is where late were noisy joys;
For love, with its anxieties, is come—
Come with its silence, solitude, and sighs.
