LOUISE.
[It is said that the death-bed of Beethoven was attended only by a pupil of his own, a girl named Louise, who toiled for his support, he being in utter destitution. Like many a genius before him, he acquired more friends after death, when he needed them not, than during life.]
'Twas midnight; from the solemn skies above,
The starry sentinels looked down in love
Upon the world below. All earth was fair,
And blessedness alone seemed reigning there;
The flowers glanced upward to the tranquil skies,
And seemed to worship with admiring eyes
The shining host above. The soft breeze crept
Through quivering leaves, and o'er the waters swept,
Sounding its low-toned harp—so sweet the song,
An angel might have brushed the strings along,
And passed, invisible to mortal sight,
Upon the heavenward sound.
The starry sentinels looked down in love
Upon the world below. All earth was fair,
And blessedness alone seemed reigning there;
The flowers glanced upward to the tranquil skies,
And seemed to worship with admiring eyes
The shining host above. The soft breeze crept
Through quivering leaves, and o'er the waters swept,
Sounding its low-toned harp—so sweet the song,
An angel might have brushed the strings along,
And passed, invisible to mortal sight,
Upon the heavenward sound.
It was a night
For the high soul to revel in, and pour
Its treasures out, and pass to come no more;
For the pure heart to watch beside the dead,
And almost fancy that it heard the tread,
Of seraph-feet around. And who is she,
For the high soul to revel in, and pour
Its treasures out, and pass to come no more;
For the pure heart to watch beside the dead,
And almost fancy that it heard the tread,
Of seraph-feet around. And who is she,
