Translations from the German Part 13

As Eckart cried thus sadly, His sense it pa.s.s'd away; He rides in fury madly Till dawning of the day.

His horse in frantic speed Sinks down at last exhausted; And naught does Eckart heed, Or think or know what caused it;

But on the cold ground lie, Not fearing, loving longer; Despair grows strong and stronger, He wishes but to die.

No one about the Castle knew whither Eckart had gone; for he had lost himself in the waste forests, and let no man see him. The Duke dreaded his intentions; and he now repented that he had let him go, and not laid hold of him. So, one morning, he set forth with a great train of hunters and attendants, to search the woods, and find out Eckart; for he thought, that till Eckart were destroyed, there could be no security.

All were unwearied, and regardless of toil; but the sun set without their having found a trace of Eckart.

A storm came on, and great clouds flew bl.u.s.tering over the forest; the thunder rolled, and lightning struck the tall oaks: all present were seized with an unquiet terror, and they gradually dispersed among the bushes, or the open s.p.a.ces of the wood. The Duke's horse plunged into the thicket; his squires could not follow him: the gallant horse rushed to the ground; and Burgundy in vain called through the tempest to his servants; for there was no one that could hear him.

Like a wild man had Eckart roamed about the woods, unconscious of himself or his misfortunes; he had lost all thought, and in blank stupefaction satisfied his hunger with roots and herbs: the hero could not now be recognised by any one, so sore had the days of his despair defaced him. As the storm came on, he awoke from his stupefaction, and again felt his existence and his woes, and saw the misery that had befallen him. He raised a loud cry of lamentation for his children; he tore his white hair; and called out, in the bellowing of the storm: "Whither, whither are ye gone, ye parts of my heart? And how is all strength departed from me, that I could not even avenge your death? Why did I hold back my arm, and did not send to death him who had given my heart these deadly stabs? Ha, fool, thou deservest that the tyrant should mock thee, since thy powerless arm and thy silly heart withstood not the murderer. Now, O now were he with me! But it is in vain to wish for vengeance, when the moment is gone by."

Thus came on the night, and Eckart wandered to and fro in his sorrow.

From a distance he heard as it were a voice calling for help. Directing his steps by the sound, he came up to a man in the darkness, who was leaning on the stem of a tree, and mournfully entreating to be guided to his road. Eckart started at the voice, for it seemed familiar to him; but he soon recovered, and perceived that the lost wayfarer was the Duke of Burgundy. Then he raised his hand to his sword, to cut down the man who had been the murderer of his children; his fury came on him with new force, and he was upon the point of finishing his b.l.o.o.d.y task, when all at once he stopped, for his oath and the word he had pledged came into his mind. He took his enemy's hand, and led him to the quarter where he thought the road must be.

The Duke foredone and weary Sank in the wilder'd breaks; Him in the tempest dreary He on his shoulders takes.

Said Burgundy: "I'm giving Much toil to thee, I fear."

Eckart replied: "The living On Earth have much to bear."

"Yet," said the Duke, "believe me, Were we out of the wood, Since now thou dost relieve me, Thy sorrows I'll make good."

The hero at this promise Felt on his cheek the tear; Said he: "Indeed I nowise Do look for payment here."

"Harder our plight is growing,"

The Duke cries, dreading scath, "Now whither are we going?

Who art thou? Art thou Death?"

"Not Death," said he, still weeping, "Or any fiend am I; Thy life is in G.o.d's keeping, Thy ways are in his eye."

"Ah," said the Duke, repenting, "My breast is foul within; I tremble, while lamenting, Lest G.o.d requite my sin.

My truest friend I've banish'd, His children have I slain, In wrath from me he vanish'd, As foe he comes again.

To me he was devoted, Through good report and bad; My rights he still promoted, The truest man I had.

Me he can never pardon, I kill'd his children dear; This night to pay my guerdon, I' th' wood he lurks, I fear.

This does my conscience teach me, A threat'ning voice within; If here to-night he reach me, I die a child of sin."

Said Eckart: "The beginning Of our woes is guilt; My grief is for thy sinning, And for the blood thou'st spilt.

And that the man will meet thee Is likewise surely true; Yet fear not, I entreat thee, He'll harm no hair of you."

Thus were they going forward talking, when another person in the forest met them; it was Wolfram, the Duke's Squire, who had long been looking for his master. The dark night was still lying over them, and no star twinkled from between the wet black clouds. The Duke felt weaker, and longed to reach some lodging, where he might sleep till day; besides, he was afraid that he might meet with Eckart, who stood like a spectre before his soul. He imagined he should never see the morning; and shuddered anew when the wind again rustled through the high trees, and the storm came down from the hollows of the mountains, and went rushing over his head. "Wolfram," cried the Duke, in his anguish, "climb one of these tall pines, and look about if thou canst spy no light, no house or cottage, whither we may turn."

The Squire, at the hazard of his life, clomb up a lofty pine, which the storm was waving from the one side to the other, and ever and anon bending down the top of it to the very ground; so that the Squire wavered to and fro upon it like a little squirrel. At last he reached the top, and cried: "Down there, in the valley, I see the glimmer of a candle; thither must we turn." So he descended and showed the way; and in a while, they all perceived the cheerful light; at which the Duke once more took heart. Eckart still continued mute, and occupied within himself; he spoke no word, and looked at his inward thoughts. On arriving at the hut, they knocked; and a little old housewife let them in: as they entered, the stout Eckart set the Duke down from his shoulders, who threw himself immediately upon his knees, and in a fervent prayer thanked G.o.d for his deliverance. Eckart took his seat in a dark corner; and there he found fast asleep the poor old man, who had lately told him of his great misery about his sons, and the search he was making for them.

When the Duke had done praying, he said: "Very strange have my thoughts been this night, and the goodness of G.o.d and his almighty power never showed themselves so openly before to my obdurate heart: my mind also tells me that I have not long to live; and I desire nothing save that G.o.d would pardon me my manifold and heavy sins. You two, also, who have led me hither, I could wish to recompense, so far as in my power, before my end arrive. To thee, Wolfram, I give both the castles that are on these hills beside us; and in future, in remembrance of this awful night, thou shalt call them the Tannenhauser, or Pine-houses. But who art thou, strange man," continued he, "that hast placed thyself there in the nook, apart? Come forth, that I may also pay thee for thy toil."

Then rose the hero from his place, And stept into the light before them; Deep lines of woe were on his face, But with a patient mind he bore them.

And Burgundy, his heart forsook him, To see that mild old gray-hair'd man; His face grew pale, a trembling took him, He swoon'd and sank to earth again.

"O, saints of heaven," he wakes and cries, "Is't thou that art before my eyes?

How shall I fly? Where shall I hide me?

Was't thou that in the wood didst guide me?

I kill'd thy children young and fair, Me in thy arms how couldst thou bear?"

Thus Burgundy goes on to wail, And feels the heart within him fail; Death is at hand, remorse pursues him, With streaming eyes he sinks on Eckart's bosom; And Eckart whispers to him low: "Henceforth I have forgot the slight, So thou and all the world may know, Eckart was still thy trusty knight."

Thus pa.s.sed the hours till morning, when some other servants of the Duke arrived, and found their dying master. They laid him on a mule, and took him back to his castle. Eckart he could not suffer from his side; he would often take his hand and press it to his breast, and look at him with an imploring look. Then Eckart would embrace him, and speak a few kind words to him, and so the Prince would feel composed. At last he summoned all his Council, and declared to them that he appointed Eckart, the trusty man, to be guardian of his sons, seeing he had proved himself the n.o.blest of all. And thus he died.

Thenceforward Eckart took on him the government with all zeal; and every person in the land admired his high manly spirit. Not long afterwards a rumour spread abroad in all quarters, of a strange Musician, who had come from Venus-Hill, who was travelling through the whole land, and seducing men with his playing, so that they disappeared, and no one could find any traces of them. Many credited the story, others not; Eckart recollected the unhappy old man.

"I have taken you for my sons," said he to the young Princes, as he once stood with them on the hill before the Castle; "your happiness must now be my posterity; when dead, I shall still live in your joy." They lay down on the slope, from which the fair country was visible for many a league; and here Eckart had to guard himself from speaking of his children; for they seemed as if coming towards him from the distant mountains, while he heard afar off a lovely sound.

"Comes it not like dreams Stealing o'er the vales and streams?

Out of regions far from this, Like the song of souls in bliss?"

This to the youths did Eckart say, And caught the sound from far away; And as the magic tones came nigher, A wicked strange desire Awakens in the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of these pure boys, That drives them forth to seek for unknown joys.

"Come, let's to the fields, to the meadows and mountains, The forests invite us, the streams and the fountains; Soft voices in secret for loitering chide us, Away to the Garden of Pleasure they'll guide us."

The Player comes in foreign guise, Appears before their wondering eyes; And higher swells the music's sound, And brighter glows the emerald ground; The flowers appear as drunk, Twilight red has on them sunk; And through the green gra.s.s play, with airy lightness, Soft, fitful, blue and golden streaks of brightness.

Like a shadow, melts and flits away All that bound men to this world of clay; In Earth all toil and tumult cease, Like one bright flower it blooms in peace; The mountains rock in purple light, The valleys shout as with delight; All rush and whirl in the music's noise, And long to share of these offer'd joys; The soul of man is allured to gladness, And lies entranced in that blissful madness.

The Trusty Eckart felt it, But wist not of the cause; His heart the music melted, He wondered what it was.

The world seems new and fairer, All blooming like the rose; Can Eckart be a sharer In raptures such as those?

"Ha! Are those tones restoring My wife and bonny sons?

All that I was deploring, My lost beloved ones?"

Yet soon his sense collected Brought doubt within his breast; These h.e.l.lish arts detected, A horror him possessed.

And now he sees the raging Of his young princes dear; Themselves to h.e.l.l engaging, His voice no more they hear.

And forth, in wild commotion, They rush, not knowing where; In tumult like the ocean, When mad his billows are.

Then, as these things a.s.sail'd him, He wist not what to do; His knighthood almost fail'd him Amid that h.e.l.lish crew.

Then to his soul appeareth The hour the Duke did die; His friend's faint prayer he heareth, He sees his fading eye.

And so his mind's in armour, And hope is conquering fear; When see, the fiendish Charmer Himself comes piping near!

His sword to draw he essayeth, And smite the caitiff dead; But as the music playeth, His strength is from him fled.