Hyperion

ing him, that her physicians had prescribed a few weeks at the Baths o

t the other watering-places of Nassau. It will drive away the melancholy day-dreams that haunt you. Perhaps some

smiling; and then added, in a toneof voice half jest,

'er s

impossi

command my

'er s

from mo

eaves of d

ld as the days of King Pepin the Short,--a hamlet, lying under the hills, half-buried in blossoms and green leaves. Close on the right rose the mountains of the mysterious Odenwald; and on the left lay the Neckar, like a steel bow in the meadow. Farther westward, a thin, smoky v

e postilion, who had dismounted to walk up the hill, leading to

treets of Weinheim, and took no heed of the host of the Golden Eagle, who stood so invitingly at the door of his own inn; and th

ke children; they must needs touch whatever they behold. They climb up to every old broken tooth of acastle, which they find on t

l and lovely valley! shut in by high hills;--shaded by alder-trees and tall poplars, under which rushes the Wechsnitz, a noisy mountain brook, that ever

kewise an ale-house and rural inn; so that the associations it suggests are not of labor only, but also of pleasure. It stands in the na

nd gushing among the stones and tangled roots, and the great wheel turning in the current, with its never-ceasing plash! plash! it brought to their mi

ch the song of birds, the rustling of leaves, and the gurgle of cool waters form the appropriate music. Or perhaps I should say they are words, which man has composed to the music of nature. Can you not, even now, hear this brooklet tel

in the valley and woodland shadows, and under the leafy roofs of garden walks, and at night, and alone, as they were written. Sing them not in the l

s made to be

eads it in b

read the my

is childl

lls them the songs of a Wandering Horn-player. There is one among them much to our present purpose. He expresses in it, the feeling of unrest

a brookle

rocky fou

the vall

and wondr

t what cam

the coun

t hasten

my pilg

, and eve

the bro

fresher

clearer

the way I

O brook

with thy

my sens

I say of

n no mu

er-nymphs, th

undelays

, my friend, l

er merri

of a mill

brooklet

r of fact. The song is pretty; and was probably suggested by some such scene as this, which we are now beho

es not prevent me from feeling the chill night air, and the pangs of hunger. Let us go back to the

who live in mills,

ozart. Of all operas this was Flemming's favorite. What rapturous flights of sound! what thrilling, pathetic chimes! what wild, joyous revelry of passion! what a delirium of sense!--what an exp

ts away and revels in the bright, warm sunshine! And then mark! how, amid the chorus of a hundred voices and a hundred instruments,--of flutes, and drums, and trumpets,--this universal shout and whirl-wind of the vexed air, you can so clearly distinguish the melancholy vibration of a single string, touch

wings. Noiseless as a feather or a snow-flake falls, did her feet touch the earth. She seemed to floatin the air, and the floor to bend and wave under her, as a branch, when a bird alights upon it, and takes wing again. Loud and rapturous applause followed each wonderful

t grace! what attitudes! How much soul in every motion! how much expression in every gesture! I assure you, it prod

f an old prude in the next box, who seemed to look upon the wholemagic show, with such feelings as Michal, Saul's da

the ring that is made in dancing, the devil's grindstone, whereon he sharpens his sword; and finally, that a ballet is the pomp and mass of the Devil, and whosoever entereth therein, entereth into his pomp and mass; for the

s so likewise," answered the Baron laug

ron begged Flemming to sit st

e scenes, the contrast with what has gone before is most impressive. Every thing wears a dream-like aspect. The empty boxes and stalls,--the silence,--the smoky twilight, and the magic scene dismantled, produce in me a strange, m

en, and dreams and realities mingle, and we know not yet whether we sleep or wake. As they at length passed out through the dimly-lighted passage, they heard a

ghts at Munich, and the

me favorite horse. He was speaking of