THE KAISER'S FEAST.

Louis, Emperor of Germany, having put his brother, the Palsgrave Rodolphus, under the ban of the empire, (in the 12th century,) that unfortunate Prince fled to England, where he died in neglect and poverty. "After his decease, his mother, Matilda, privately invited his children to return to Germany; and by her mediation, during a season of festivity, when Louis kept wassail in the Castle of Heidelberg, the family of his brother presented themselves before him in the garb of suppliants, imploring pity and forgiveness. To this appeal the victor softened."-Miss BENGER'S Memoirs of the Queen of Bohemia.

THE KAISER'S FEAST.

THE Kaiser feasted in his hall,

The red wine mantled high;

Banners were trembling on the wall,
To the peals of minstrelsy:

And many a gleam and sparkle came

From the armour hung around,

As it caught the glance of the torch's flame, Or the hearth with pine-boughs crown'd.

Why fell there silence on the chord

Beneath the harper's hand?

And suddenly, from that rich board,
Why rose the wassail-band?

The strings were hush'd-the knights made way

For the queenly mother's tread,

As up the hall, in dark array,

Two fair-hair'd boys she led.

She led them ev'n to the Kaiser's place,

And still before him stood;

Till, with strange wonder, o'er his face
Flush'd the proud warrior-blood:

And "Speak, my mother! speak!" he cried,
"Wherefore this mourning vest?

And the clinging children by thy side,

In weeds of sadness drest?"

"Well may a mourning vest be mine,
And theirs, my son, my son!
Look on the features of thy line

In each fair little one!

Tho' grief awhile within their eyes

Hath tamed the dancing glee,

Yet there thine own quick spirit lies

Thy brother's children see?

"And where is he, thy brother, where?

He, in thy home that grew,

And smiling, with his sunny hair,

Ever to greet thee flew?

How would his arms thy neck entwine,

His fond lips press thy brow!

My son! oh, call these orphans thine

Thou hast no brother now!

"What! from their gentle eyes doth nought Speak of thy childhood's hours,

And smite thee with a tender thought

Of thy dead father's towers?

Kind was thy boyish heart and true,

When rear'd together there,

Thro' the old woods like fawns ye flew-Where is thy brother-where?

"Well didst thou love him then, and he

Still at thy side was seen!

How is it that such things can be,

As tho' they near had been?

Evil was this world's breath, which came

Between the good and brave!

Now must the tears of grief and shame

Be offer'd to the grave.

"And let them, let them there be pour'd!

Tho' all unfelt below,

Thine own wrung heart, to love restor❜d,

Shall soften as they flow.