Lindenwald

Preface

TALE OF THE SIEGE OF VIENNA.

The year 1683 will ever be memorable in Austrian history, as the last invasion by the Turks and the siege of Vienna.

Mahomed IV was the reigning Sultan at that period. His dominions embraced Western Asia, Northern Africa and Eastern Europe. His army of invasion numbered, according to some historians, nearly half a million, commanded by Kara Mustapha, the Grand Vizier. The army was composed of Turks with their allies, consisting of Tartars, Hungarians, Wallachians, Moldavians and other Turkish dependencies, embracing different nationalities and creeds. This army appeared before Vienna in July 1683.

The siege continued till September when it ended by the defeat of the Turks in a decisive battle, by the allied armies under the leadership of Sobieski, king of Poland and Duke Charles of Loraine and other distinguished German leaders.

The above noticed historical events form the foundation of the following poem.

The time occupied includes a space of one year.

PLACES AND PERSONS OF THE TALE.

Lindenwald castle is supposed to have been situated on the banks of the Danube within about two days^ ride of Vienna.

The places most particularly mentioned are Lindenwald, Constantinople and Vienna.

The principal characters are Earle Wilhelm, lord of the castle; Countess Maria, his wife, and Count Albrecht, his son; Duke Ludwig, afterward Priest Ludwig; Angle, engaged to Duke Ludwig, but elopes with Ben Hassan; Ben Hassan, a young Tartar student and prince, afterward holding a high position in the Sultan's army; Agnis, daughter of Ben Hassan and Angle.

Many other incidental names and characters make up the machinery of the poem.

Introduction To Canto I

The storm king rides the gathering cloud.

His breath is chil) his voice is loud;

TAe north wind as his charioteer.

Born in the regions cold and drear,

Drives fiercely over vale and hill.

While nature feels the blighting chill.

The flowers of summer droop and fade.

The flock forsakes the naked glade,

The songbird leaves the leafless grove

Where late she sang her lay of love;

The sun which cheers the shortened day,,

More feebly sheds his stinted ray,

No fragrant flower, no dancing stream.

To rouse the poet's magic theme.

But earth and sky and sea and air,

A season of repose declare.

But still, to cheer the lonely hours.

And waken fancy^s drowsy powers,

And pass the cheerless wintry days.

His eye o^er many a volume strays,

Of history or classic lore,

Of heroes famed in days of yore.

He reads till borne on fancy^s wings,

He treads the halls of ancient kings.

Or views the castle grim and high.

With turrets pointing to the sky.

Or sees some warlike chieftain stride,

Amidst his clan with haughty pride,

Or marks the Moslem, grim and bold.

The prophet^s crescent fiag unfold,

And lead his fierce and warlike bands.

Against the western Christian lands;

Or scales the high forbidden walls,

To view the harem's secret halls.

Where Oriental dames reclined

In listless ease, whose powers of mind,

Stinted by superstitious gloom.

Seem bounded by their narrow room;

Or in some grave monastic cell

Will listen to the vesper bell.

To aid wild fancy in its flight.

Thus while, without, the storm king reigns,

And fetters nature with his chains.

Within, beside the blazing brand.

At ease I sit with book in hand.

My guests, philosophers and sages, Who lived and wrote in former ages, Or bards whose wild romantic lays Were sung in legendary days.

CANTO I. The morning dawned brightly on Lindenwald's

towers And gilded with beauty its gardens and bowers. While from its proud turrets in brilliant array, A score of gay banners enliven the day. The broad flowing Danube is sparkling and

bright.

Reflecting the rays of the sun's early light. The annual holiday, honored of yore, Seemed gayer this morning than even before. And many grand guests, lords and ladies, appear To join in the chase and partake of the cheer, But, fearing a raid from some wild Moslem band, A score of bold knights, with their weapons in

hand, Will ride in the train while with cross and with

stole Priest Ludwig the friends of the woods will control, *Twere strange that a man of such cavalry air, The robe and the cowl of a prelate should wear.

"Pray tell me, kind warden; what means this display ?

Say is it to hail the -first morning of May ?'^ "The annual fete and the gay forest ride Are always delightful/' the warden replied. '^Though once a strange fortune Priest Ludwig

befell.

Though years have since past I remember it

well." ^Tray tell the strange story/' the stranger now

cried.

When musing a moment, the warden replied: ^^This day twenty years, the first morning of

May, Was like this bright morning, delightful and gay, Young Albrecht's first birthday made brighter

the scene.

The gardens were fragrant, the forests were

green.

The morning was cloudless and seemed to invite The guests to a scene of unusual delight. Earle Wilhelm the lord of the castle today. And Countess Maria, both youthful and gay, Led forth to the forest the light cavalcade

To join in the chase through wild thicket or

glade, Among the proud guests, it was easy to trace A young lord and lady of beauty and grace, Their praises were whispered by many a tongue. So skillful as riders, so graceful and young. Duke Ludwig, young lord of proud Fannense's

land, Whose turreted castle was stately and grand. (Now ruled by his brother, Duke ^einrich,

while he Is robed as a prelate as now you can see.) The lady who gracefully rode at his side Was Angle, of Baden, engaged as his bride. While, almost unnoticed, a strange, dark-eyed

guest.

Rode silently forth to the chase with the rest, A student from Baden, Ben Hassan by name, A young Tartar prince, from Samarcand he

came To study the language and laws of the west; His rank as a prince was his pass as a guest. He often at Baden young Angle had seen. They often had met in their walks on the green.

Together had galloped o*er meadow and plain,

Both skillful to ride and handle the rein.

Of such was the party who galloped that da}^ —

A gayer ne'er rode to the forest away.

But no holy prelate was seen in the train

A sin which was never repeated again.

'"^The baying of hounds and the shouts that

arose.

Awakened the forest from nature's repose. Each beast at the echo awakes from his lair. And sooii on the wing were the birds of the

air.

Such was the wild tumult and din of the chase, And such it has been on all festival days, Since old Baron Reisig, our forefathers say, Established this annual festival day. At noon the loud bugle the huntsmen recalls, To meet and return to proud Lindenwald's halls. The riders assembled in haste at the sound. But Angle, alas with the guests was not found. She at the first shout and wild echoing bay, Unnoticed, had stole from Duke Ludwig away. Now ran through the party a tremor of fear. The young Tartar student had failed to appear.

The bugle is sounded more loudly again,

Its echoes resounded through wood and o'er

plain, And oft is repeated the echoing blast. While moments and hours of anxiety passed. Duke Ludwig, half frantic^ remounted his steed And rushed through the forest with wild reckless

speed, And other fleet horsemen remounted once more The depths of the forest again to explore, While slowly and sadly Earle Wilhelm now

rides, And back to the castle the silent train guides. But of the lost Angle no trace could they gain. Till night spread her veil o^er the forest and plain. But sad was the group on that sorrowful night. Although the day opened so cheerful and bright. Thus days grew to weeks and the forest and

plain Were faithfully searched, but all efforts were

vain.

Until, by a trader who eastward had been. The fugitives far on their journey were seen. The search of the forest was now given o^er;

Duke Ludwig returned to his castle once more; Resigned to his brother his castle and lands, Who now as the lord of proud Fannensee stands. And then at the shrine of St. Agatha vowed, That robes of a priest should his person enshroud, And till he of Angle some tidings should gain, His vows, as a priest should unbroken remain. The garb and the staff of a pilgrim he bore. And visited many a far distant shore, He sought the famed cities of Palestine's lands, And visited Africa's deserts and sands, But oft as returns the first morning of May, Again to the castle he takes his lone way. And rides as a prelate in Earle Wilhelm's train, And calls the sad scenes to remembrance again.'*

4 Old Conrad had scarcely completed his tale. When notes of the bugle arose on the gale. The tramping of steeds and the voices of cheer. Resound through the groves as the riders appear.

A more joyous party or brilliant array.

Ne'er rode to the forest than rode on that day. Ten knights in bright armor the cavalcade lead, Ten chargers, all famed for their beauty and

speedy And ten gallant horsemen as guards in the rear. In glittering armor and trappings appear. The Earle and the Countess in gallant array, Lead forward the party on palfreys of grey, While, clad as a huntsman. Count Albrecht with

pride Conversed with priest Ludwig, and rode at his

side.

While ladies and lords from Vienna appear. As guests at the castle and join in the cheer. Thus formed in procession the company gay. To Lindenwald's forest have taken their way And soon the loud baying and clatter and shout^ Announced the gay sport and the wild forest

route.

5 When from the dull scenes of the palace and

court.

The free woodland ride and the huntsman's wild

sport.

Or when the brave knight from monotonous drill, Rides free as the wind over mountain and hill, And cheered by the sport and the free mountain

air.

They almost forget every duty and care, As gaily they gallop through grove and o'er hill, Or bathe their flushed brows at the clear mountain rill.

Till from the loud bugle, yet seeming too soon. The signal is sounded, the wild sport is done, When quickly assemble the hurrying train, To gaily return to the castle again.

Around a pure fountain where bright waters

play.

The party ffow gather their thirst to allay. And fearless of danger the riders dismount. And carelessly stand by the sparkling fount, For ere they return to the castle once more, A draught from the spring must their spirits

restore.

The health giving waters, priest Ludwig now

blessed,

When filling the cup to each soldier and guest. The earle drinks the health from the goblet so

clear.

The guests now respond with an echoing cheer* The goblet is filled and count Albrecht again Drinks to the fair ladies who honor the train, When handkerchiefs waving do silently tell The toast is enjoyed by the ladies right well, A toast from the priest many voices now cry. The goblet is filled ere they wait a reply, And brought to the prelate, who silently stands A moment, then taking the glass in his hands He raises it slowly and says with a sigh, ^*A drink to a friend of the years now gone by."" All heads are uncovered, a reverent bow Is made to the priest by the party; and now, A toast to the knights who have guarded the

train Is cheered by a shout and the bugle's refrain. But louder and deeper an ominous sound,' Resounds from the hills and the forest around. Say, was it an echo which answered the cheer. Or shout of the Moslem which falls on the ear? The merriment ceases, but ceases too late;

'Tis the wild Moslem shout, the dread herald of

fate.

The half emptied goblet now falls from his hand. As Albrecht now seizes his strong ready brandy Each knight quickly grasps his true steed^s

slackened rein And hastily springs to his saddle again. And cries of dismay from the ladies arise, As each to her lord clings with fear and surprise, And cheeks which were glowing with pleasure

and cheer.

Grew pallid as marble with terror and fear.

Five hundred armed horsemen with gallop and

bound, And scimitars waving, the party surround. The stubborn resistance was fruitless and vain; The Earle and his bravest defenders were slain. But short was the conflict and shorter the stay; The foes with their captives soon hastened away. The ladies remounted, half 'frantic with fear, Were guarded by soldiers, who rode in the rear. The guards who survive were remounted again, On slow weary steeds, thus escape was in vain.

Count Albrecht, though wounded, was ordered

to ride, By aid of Priest Ludwig, who rode at his side^ Thus through the dense forest with fear and

dismay, The helpless survivors have taken their way. Urged on by their foes while with many a sigh, They bid their lost friends and their country

good-bye; Till low in the west sinks the sun's parting ray. So closes the scenes of the festival day.

The tents are now pitched by the side of a rill. Which flows at the base of a forest-crowned

hill.

Where dark turbaned chiefs and grim soldiers

appear.

Each armed with a scimitar, poniard and spear. Adventurers gathered from many a land, And joined under Pasha Al Raschid's command. The Pasha of discipline, stern and severe. Knew little of mercy and little of fear. And every soldier had learned to obey.

His leader's command and submit to his sway.

Now night spreads her curtain with soft soothing hand.

And slumber has touched with her magical wand,

The sad weary captives, w^ho yield to its sway.

Forgetting their woes till the dawning of day,

When through the lone valley, o'er mountain and plain,

The captives are urged on their journey again.

Thusjthree days are passed when a valley of

green.

Refreshed by a clear flowing streamlet, is seen. Surrounded by hills from whose steep lofty

brow, A forest looked down on the valley below. The Pasha here rested his army once more. Three bright sunny days on the rivulet^s shore. The captives exhausted by sorrow and grief, In much needed rest found a scanty relief, The soldiers, well pleased with a season of ease, Lay quietly stretched neath the shade of the

trees.

Or sitting in groups while each listening band. Is cheered by some tale of the ocean or land. A renegade sailor from Crimea^s coast, Tells how in a tempest his vessel was lost, Tells many strange omens of evil and good, Of spirits who haunt the far islands and flood; These magical islands he often had seen. Had fought with the troops of the Amazon

queen.

Or Sirens who lulled the doomed sailors to

sleep, Or Mermaids who haunted the dangerous deep. " One song I remember; just list to my tale, I often have heard it borne wild on the gale/* He says. ^^ Pray repeat it/' each listener cries, When thus in rude cadence its wild notes arise.

mermaid's song.

Where the dark and foaming billow,

With the breakers for my pillow,

The wild winds I mock

With my song and lure the seaman

Till the fatal shock

And the waves with voice of thunder, And the wind's deep wail.

Echo to my song of triumph, As the tattered sail I receive as lawful treasure Brought me by the gale.

Deeply in the caves of ocean - Though the tempests rave,

Fearless of the waves' commotion.

O'er the seaman^s grave,

Soft I spread my ocean treasure,

O^er his form, and chant with pleasure,.

Or with plaintive lay

Sing his requiem, sad and lonely,

At the close of day.

Or at morning in the sunlight.

With the billows play.

All listen with silence and reverent fear. As tales of the wild mystic ocean they hear An old Arab soldier, whose grizzly beard Gave proof that he many long marches had

shared.

Told tales of the march, of the camp, and the

field;

And mystical omens by magic revealed As signs of success or of fatal overthrow. Which none but one born in his country might

know.

But chiefly he loved some strange legend to tell. To which his companions would listen full well. They now ask a story of some distant land, To cheer the dull hours of the listening band. He says, '*a true legend I now will relate. As told by the priests in my own native state/^

ARABIAN LEGEND.

There stood a lofty castle within a distant land. Its lord a wealthy Pasha of race renowned and

grand, A hundred steeds were stabled within a spacious

stall, A hundred riders waited all ready at his call. A score of dames like houries within his harem

wait, The most exquisitie beauties from many a foreign

state.

While guards of well-armed soldiers defend his

castle walls,

And slaves and dusky eunuchs attend his palace

halls.

Yet stern, morose and cruel and filled with

scorn and hate, And who provoked his anger soon met a felon's

fate.

At length a weary pilgrim, afflicted, lame and

poor.

Sought in a wintry tempest admission at his

door, But driven from the castle with curses and with

blows.

He lifts his hands to heaven and hus this voice

arose, **Wo! to the heartless tyrant who drives with

ruthless might, The sick and weary pilgrim into the stormy

night.

May terror, wreck and ruin within these walls

be found, And this proud, guarded castle be levelled to

the ground.^' He turned his weary footsteps to face the night

and rain

And e'er the dawn of morning, lay lifeless on the

plain, A year had scarcely ended when a wild storm

arose.

With clouds more dark than midnight, and fierce

the whirlwind blows, Tne castle's spires were shattered, it walls were

' rent and riven, And the proud Pasha perished by thunderbolts

from heaven, And mingled with the tempest the pilgrim's

curse again Is shouted through the castle and echoed o*er

the plain, Thus raged the fearful tempest and pealed the

thunder's sound.

Until the famous castle was levelled to the

ground.

No trace to mark its ruin is seen throughout the

land.

Its site and fragrant gardens are now a desert

sand; But 'neath an aged palm tree a lonely heap of

stones

Points as a silent record where rest the pilgrim's bones.

Thus two days were past when the song and the

tale.

And other amusements grew heartless and stale. When Caled, a soldier who ever had stood. As foremost to lead in all evil or good. Proposed that the Christian, who rode in their

train As priest, be invited his creed to explain. And tell the strange tales and wild legends of

old.

And then when the captive his story had told, A priest of Mahomet should stand in his place. And speak for the prophet, his creed and his

race.

Thus Moslem and Christian should equally share The right his religion and faith to declare. The Pasha assented and soon 'neath the shade Of wide-spreading branches a rostrum was

made,

Where hundreds of soldiers with listening ear^ Soon gathered, the novel discussion to hear. The priest in the robes of the Christian is seen Approaching with quiet and dignified mien; A cross on his breast as an emblem he wore, And in his right hand a small crucifix bore. And soon to his place from the opposite side A priest of Mahomet appeared in his pride. A murmur is heard in the gathering crowd, And then a wild shout rises joyful and loud. If two gladiators prepared for the fray. Were in the arena in battle array, Not louder had risen the echoing shout. Than rang through the forest so joyfully out. The guards soon the cheers of the soldiers restrain, And quiet again o*er the scene holds her reign. A herald now enters the ring, with a cross And crescent, portrayed on a stone. Now a toss High up in the air, when with rotating bound It falls and lies quiet again on the ground. The herald now carefully raises the stone And loudly proclaims that the crescent has won,,

When Caled now whispers, " but little I care Who wins or who loses, the play opens fair.'^

lO

El Razin, a priest of Mohammedan race, From viziers and caliphs his record could trace. Each mosque from famed Bagdad to Marmora's

shore Some mark of his zeal or his piety bore. His name in the mosques of Medina was known, At Mecca engraved on a tablet of stone. But now with Al Raschid his fortune he shares To aid in his raids with his council and prayers. With haughty contempt and true Musselman

pride He looked on the Christian, who sat at his side. Then raising his crescent high over his head, He thus to his listening audience said: ^* To talk with a Christian of church or of creed Is what no true priest of the prophet has need; The faith of Mahomet consists not in word His worship is taught by the cannon and sword> From far distant India to Africa's sands, The crescent now floats over cities and lands.

And like the proud sun at the opening day. Still westward the koran is taking its way; And soon over Europe, each city and tower, Shall float the proud emblem of Moslem power. And every brave soldier who falls on the field Shall fly' to the land to the prophet revealed. A Paradise formed for luxurious ease. Where gardens and houries the senses shall

please.

Such is our religion. Though simple and weak Should be his remarks, let the Christian now

speak."

He ceased and a cheer for El Razin again Is loudly re-echoed through forest and plain. But quickly the tumult is hushed to repose, As from his calm silence, Priest Ludwig arose. He raises the crucifix high o'er his head. Bowed to the assembly and calmly he said: *The cross which I bear is an emblem of peace. Beneath its mild reign all contention will cease. Transformed into plowshares, the sword and the

spear.

The rich golden harvests of nature will rear, And desolate lands by the soldier now trod.

Would flourish and bloom like the garden of God. And those who as soldiers now wearily roam. Would taste the enjoyments of kindred and

home/* The Pasha now ordered Priest Lud wig to cease. Saying, *'none to my soldiers shall prattle of

peace, The life of a soldier means bloodshed and war. Let Christians and cowards their peace visions

share."

It Thus hastily closes the scenes of the day, The morrow again finds the troops on their way, Refreshed by a season of quiet and rest. With still greater vigor the journey is pressed. Oer mountain and plain for full many a day. The captives are urged on their wearisome way. But time like the tide which no weariness knows, At length brought the long cheerless march to a

close.

The soldiers proclaim with an echoing cheer, The spires of a city at distance appear. Proud Constantinople, the Orient queen. And classic Bosphorus distinctly are seen.

Introduction To Canto II

Kind reader when the sun^s last ray, Has faded from the earth away. When summer too has passed and gone. And Autumn breezes hoarsly moan. Through half clad groves of faded green, Or yellow foliage the screen Of summer birds now heard no more, They warble on some southern shore. And tune their amorous notes of love In some more warm and genial grove. Or in some safe secluded glen. Untrodden by the feet of men, And silent, brave stern winter's reign Till cheerful spring returns again, While proudly soaring through the skies. The migratory columns rise, Of stronger wing and higher flight, Regardless of the frost king's might, While you, less favored, seek your home, With little wish to wildly roam

For pleasure midst the frost and snows, But welcome nature's long repose With social joys or harmless mirth. Around your cherished home and hearth. The lute, the music and the song, Awhile amuse the happy throng, But dull ennui oft invades The wintry days of evening shades. And books so often read before, Grow stale, and interest no more. Kind reader, then my humble lay. May serve to pass the hours away.

CANTO IL

Scene: Constantinople.

The mists of the morning pass slowly away, And dimly the sun casts his first morning ray. His earliest beams with a silver light fall. On loftiest towers and on minarets tall, When solemnly break on the still morning

air, The bells of the mosques, as a signal for prayer. The captives, aroused from their reveries lone. Recall in the sound of the low, solemn tone. The matin bell's chime, which full often before. Had welcomed the morn from St, Agatha^s

tower.

But short was the season of prayerful repose. And short was the murmur of worship that

rose.

For soon the hoarse cannon with thunder-like

roar, Booms over the bay and resounds from the

shore.

The proud Turkish navy and forts on the land. Exchange their salutes, while majestic and grand, The turreted castles and ships in the bay. The flag of the crescent in triumph display, While loud through the streets the fleet heralds

proclaim, Al Raschid^s return with new honor and fame, A score of new captives, as trophies, declare His brilliant success in the Austrian war. This group of proud nobles in richest array. The Pasha surprised on a festival day, These ladies and lords with knights valiant and

bold, As spoils of the captor at noon will be sold. The heralds thus pass through full many a

street.

Repeating their cries, while with hurrying feet. The curious citizens haste to the ward, To view the strange captives, till checked by the

guard.

Who ready with spears or with scimitars, wait The order to open the strong oaken gate.

Within the walled court of the castle, appear

The captives with little of comfort or cheer, The sun half concealed by the mists which prevail, Appears in the heavens, discolored and pale. While dark turbaned guards like fierce demons^

are seen With scimitars armed and with threatening mien And high frowning walls ; these dread emblems

of fear Like scenes of the regions infernal appear. Their morning devotions though plaintive and

low, Afford some relief to their sorrow and wo, As led by priest Ludwig the soft matin lay Recalled the loved scenes of their homes far away.

3 The mists of the morning in vapors arise. The noonday sun smiles from the clear cloudless

skies.

When harsh on its hinges the huge oaken gate, Creaks hoarsely and enters in grand royal state Mustapha (the vizier) and pashas who stand. In ready attendance to wait his command.

The captives whose nation and rank are then

told, By Pasha Al Raschid are now to be sold, While dark frowning purchasers heartless and

grim.

View rudely each form, every muscle and limb, While jeers of derision insulting and loud. Are heard from the motley and curious crowd, As formed into groups the sad captives are seen, Awaiting their fate with a sorrowful mien.

*^Ten Austrian knights" cries the grim auctioneer, **VVho when in no danger have never known fear, Observe each tall form and each muscular frame. Who bids for these heroes of valor and fame?" A purchaser answered ^*a knight strong and

brave, Though useful in war is unfit for a slave, The coward for labor, the soldier for war. Ten piasters each is the price I can spare," '^But men are now needed," a merchant replies, **Five piasters more I will add to the price.

My ship lies at anchor half manned in the bay; My seamen have gone with the army away/' ^*Is any more offered, just going, one ! one ! One, two,^' cries the auctioneer, ^^going, and,

gone/' '^Another grand offer," the auctioneer cries, ^^Who buys these six nobles will win a rich prize, The fortunate man who these chattels may hold, Can claim as their ransom their weight in pure

gold."

Now dark visaged purchasers eager and grim, View rudely each form, scan each feature and

limb; While jeers of contempt all insulting and loud. In murmurs are heard from the dense motley

crowd.

The look of the captives was sad and forlorn, Their rich silken garments were faded and torn. How unlike the guests on the festival day. Who rode to the forest so cheerful and gay. ^*Who bids for the nobles ?'^ the auctioneer cries. When scanning the captives, a trader replies: *^As maids for his harem some rich titled lord. Perhaps for the females some price might afford.

One slave from Dongola in value is more Than these feeble Christians though bought by

the score.

Three sequins for each.'* *^Shall I hear any

more ?'' The auctioneer cries: ^*Who will raise it to

fourr ^^Four sequins/* a shrewd Jewish trader now

cries ^^The chance for their ransom will warrant the

price.

My brother who trades in Vienna/' he said ^^Will forward the price of their ransom when

paid.*' Then silently muses in whispers concealed, " A thousand piasters my purchase must yield.'' ** Is any more offered. Just going, and, gone,** The nobles are sold, and the Hebrew has won. ^* The last of the captives, three prisoners more. More famed,'* cries the salesman, ^^Lhan any before.

The Countess of Lindenwald, Albrecht^ her son. And priest from St. Agatha's convent, well

known.

As one of the wisest of Austrian race, That ever a feast or a wedding did grace. The last of the lot/^ the grim auctioneer cries, ^^The trio should bring an exceptional price." A tall Tartar chieftain, with curious eye. Examines the captives with half suppressed