The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume V Part 19

FREE ART[28] (1812)

Thou, whom song was given, sing In the German poets' wood!

When all boughs with music ring-- Then is life and pleasure good.

Nay, this art doth not belong To a small and haughty band; Scattered are the seeds of song All about the German land.

Music set thy pa.s.sions free From the heart's confining cage; Let thy love like murmurs be, And like thunder-storm thy rage!

Singest thou not all thy days, Joy of youth should make thee sing.

Nightingales pour forth their lays In the blooming months of spring!

Though in books they hold not fast What the hour to thee imparts, Leaves unto the breezes cast, To be seized by youthful hearts!

Fare thou well, thou secret lore: Necromancy, Alchemy!

Formulas shall bind no more, And our art is poesy.

Names we deem but empty air; Spirits we revere alone; Though we honor masters rare.

Art is free--it is our own!

Not in haunts of marble chill, Temples drear where ancients trod-- Nay, in oaks on woody hill, Lives and moves the German G.o.d.

TAILLEFER[29] (1812)

Duke William of the Normans spoke unto his servants all: "Who is it sings so sweetly in the court and in the hall?

Who sings from early morn till the house is still at night So sweetly that he fills my heart with laughter and delight?"

"'Tis Taillefer," they answered him, "so joyously that sings Within the courtyard, as the wheel above the well he swings, And when the fire upon the hearth he stirs to burn more bright, And when he rises to his toil or lays him down at night."

Then spoke the Duke, "In him I trow I have a faithful knave-- This Taillefer that serves me here, so loyal and so brave; He turns the wheel and stirs the fire with willing, st.u.r.dy arm, And, best of all, with blithesome song he knows my heart to charm."

Then out spake l.u.s.ty Taillefer, "Ah, lord, if I were free, Far better would I serve thee then, and gladly sing to thee.

How on my stately charger would I serve thee in the field, How sing before thee cheerily, with clang of sword and shield!"

The days went by, and Taillefer rode out as rides a knight Upon a prancing charger borne, a gay and gallant sight; And from the tower looked down on him Duke William's sister fair, And softly murmured, "By my troth, a stately knight goes there!"

When as he rode before the tower, and spied her harkening, Now sang he like a driving storm, now like a breeze of spring; She cried, "To hear that wondrous song is of all joys the best-- The very stones they tremble, and the heart within my breast."

And now the Duke has called his men and crossed the salt sea-foam; With gallant knights and va.s.sals bold to England he has come.

And as he sprang from out the ship, he slipped upon the strand, And "By this token, thus," he cried, "I seize a subject land!"

And now on Hastings field arrayed, the host for fight prepare; Before the Duke reins up his horse the valiant Taillefer: "If I have sung and blown the fire for many a weary year, And since for other years have borne the knightly shield and spear,

"If I have sung and served thee well, and praises won from thee, First as a lowly knave and then a warrior, bold and free, Today I claim my guerdon just, that all the host may know-- To ride the foremost to the field, strike first against the foe!"

So Taillefer rode on before the glittering Norman line Upon his stately steed, and waved a sword of temper fine; Above the embattled plain his song rang all the tumult o'er-- Of Roland's knightly deeds he sang and many a hero more.

And as the n.o.ble song of old with tempest-might swelled out, The banners waved and knights pressed on with war-cry and with shout; And every heart among the host throbbed prouder still and higher, And still through all sang Taillefer, and blew the battle-fire.

Then forward, lance in rest, against the waiting foe he dashed, And at the shock an English knight from out the saddle crashed; Anon he swung his sword and struck a grim and grisly blow, And on the ground beneath his feet an English knight lay low.

The Norman host his prowess saw, and followed him full fain; With joyful shouts and clang of shields the whole field rang again, And shrill and fast the arrows sped, and swords made merry play-- Until at last King Harold fell, his stubborn carles gave way.

The Duke his banner planted high upon the b.l.o.o.d.y plain, And pitched his tent a conqueror amid the heaps of slain; Then with his captains sat at meat, the wine-cup in his hand, Upon his head the royal crown of all the English land.

"Come hither, valiant Taillefer, and drink a cup with me!

Full oft thy song has soothed my grief, made merrier my glee; But all my life I still shall hear the battle-shout that pealed Above the noise of clashing arms today on Hastings field!"

SUABIAN LEGEND[30] (1814)

When Emperor Redbeard with his band Came marching through the Holy Land, He had to lead, the way to seek, His n.o.ble force o'er mountains bleak.

Of bread there rose a painful need, Though stones were plentiful indeed, And many a German rider fine Forgot the taste of mead and wine.

The horses drooped from meagre fare, The rider had to hold his mare.

There was a knight from Suabian land Of n.o.ble build and mighty hand; His little horse was faint and ill, He dragged it by the bridle still; His steed he never would forsake, Though his own life should be at stake.

And so the horseman had to stay Behind the band a little way.

Then all at once, right in his course, Pranced fifty Turkish men on horse.

And straight a swarm of arrows flew; Their spears as well the riders threw.

Our Suabian brave felt no dismay, And calmly marched along his way.

His shield was stuck with arrows o'er, He sneered and looked about--no more; Till one, whom all this pastime bored, Above him swung a crooked sword.

The German's blood begins to boil, He aims the Turkish steed to foil, And off he knocks with hit so neat The Turkish charger's two fore-feet.

And now that he has felled the horse, He grips his sword with double force And swings it on the rider's crown And splits him to the saddle down; He hews the saddle into bits, And e'en the charger's back he splits.

See, falling to the right and left, Half of a Turk that has been cleft!

The others shudder at the sight And hie away in frantic flight, And each one feels, with gruesome dread, That he is split through trunk and head.

A band of Christians, left behind, Came down the road, his work to find; And they admired, one by one, The deed our hero bold had done.

From these the Emperor heard it all, And bade his men the Suabian call, Then spake: "Who taught thee, honored knight, With hits like those you dealt, to fight?"

Our hero said, without delay "These hits are just the Suabian way.

Throughout the realm all men admit, The Suabians always make a hit."

THE BLIND KING[31] (1804, 1814)

Why stands uncovered that northern host High on the seaboard there?

Why seeks the old blind king the coast, With his white, wild-fluttering hair?

He, leaning on his staff the while, His bitter grief outpours, Till across the bay the rocky isle Sounds from its caverned sh.o.r.es.

"From the dungeon-rock, thou robber, bring My daughter back again!

Her gentle voice, her harp's sweet string Soothed an old father's pain.

From the dance along the green sh.o.r.e Thou hast borne her o'er the wave; Eternal shame light on thy head; Mine trembles o'er the grave."

Forth from his cavern, at the word, The robber comes, all steeled, Swings in the air his giant sword, And strikes his sounding shield.

"A goodly guard attends thee there; Why suffered they the wrong?