“This is the fairest hour, The hour of eventide, And I drink to the fairest maiden That dwells the Rhine beside.
“And I pledge her three times over, Though her only dower should be The heaven-born gift of beauty, And a faithful love for me.”
Thus spake Adelbert, smiling, And held his goblet up, And three times overflowing Each student drained his cup.
Then paused the twain in wond’ring, What Ludwig’s toast might be; For their comrade sat in silence, And never word spake he.
“How now? Why thus, brave Ludwig, Sitt’st thou in pensive mood? Dost choose to dwell unmated, In loveless solitude?”
He smiled, and then looked downward As he answered, glass in hand, “Nay, nay; but, if I pledge her, Ye will not understand.”
“Where dwells she, then?” cried Otto, “This peerless love of thine? Mayhap some fabled Lurline That sings beneath the Rhine?
“Thou’rt smiling--haste, then, pledge her!” And the brimming glasses rung As Ludwig dropped the music That trembled on his tongue.
“This is the holiest hour Of all the twenty-four, For the rush of day hath passed us, And the tide returns no more.
“And the waves of toil and traffic, By dark argosies trod, Are lost through circling eddies In the mightiness of God.
“This is the holiest hour When purest thoughts have birth, And I drink to the holiest maiden That ever dwelt on earth.
“Her vesture falleth around her In folds of changeless white, And her holiness outshineth The jewels of the night.
“She weareth a mantle of sadness, Her sorrows are her fame: She long hath been my chosen, But I will not name her name.
“Ah! not with wine I pledge thee, All spotless as thou art, But with my life’s devotion, With the fulness of my heart.
“Ah! not with wine I pledge thee, Nor one libation pour; Thou hold’st the bond that seals me, Thine own for evermore.”
This with white brow uncovered, ’Neath the floating twilight skies; And angels might have marvelled At the beauty of his eyes.
Then he turned his goblet downward, And waved the flask aside His comrades would have proffered To pledge such wondrous bride.
“Friend, thou hast spoken strangely, But thou wert ever strange; Mayhap this matchless maiden Hath power thy mood to change.”
Thus Adelbert spake, smiling, And shook his golden hair: “_I_ ask nor saint nor angel, But maiden fond and fair.