Frederick concluded from this that the young girl loved his friend. He had already well remarked that she reserved for Reinhold her most gracious smiles and her sweetest words. But this time he could no longer doubt her sentiments.
The following Sunday, instead of accepting the invitation of master Martin, who, almost cured of his wound, wished to go with Rosa to walk out of the city, he went away alone, a prey to all the anguish of his thoughts, towards the hill where he had seen Reinhold for the first time. Arrived there, he threw himself on the grass, and reflected on the deceptions of his life, from which each hope was effaced, like a star falling from the sky. He wept over the flowers hidden in the moss, and the flowers bowed their heads under the dew of his tears, as if they had understood his sorrow. Then, without his being able to explain to himself how it was, his sighs, that were carried away by the breeze, gradually became articulated in words; then these words were softly modulated, and he sang his sadness as he would have sung his joy.
Where art thou gone, O Star of Hope?
Alas, thou art forever gone from me!
Thy brilliant beams no longer ope,
Save to gladden the eyes that called to thee.
Arise, ye stormy nights, arise!
Ye are less terrible than these,
That tear my heart from its surprise,
And cover it with mournful leaves.
My eyes are drowned in briny tears,
My poor heart sadly moans and bleeds,
Whilst the balmy forest ever hears
The murmurs softly, sweetly plead.
Golden clouds that veil the heavens,
Why do ye glisten with joyous beam?
Alas, ye cast your shades at even
Upon sad Lethe's joyless stream.
The tomb it is my solitary hope,
Its peaceful slumber I perchance may meet,
When this sad, lonely life with death shall cope,
And the eternal shores my heart shall greet.
