A ballad.
At Aix-la-Chapelle, in imperial
array,
In its halls renowned in old story,
At the coronation banquet so gay
King Rudolf was sitting in glory.
The meats were served up by the Palsgrave of Rhine,
The Bohemian poured out the bright sparkling wine,
And all the Electors, the seven,
Stood waiting around the world-governing one,
As the chorus of stars encircle the sun,
That honor might duly be given.
And the people the lofty balcony
round
In a throng exulting were
filling;
While loudly were blending the trumpets
glad sound,
The multitudes voices
so thrilling;
For the monarchless period, with
horror rife,
Has ended now, after long baneful
strife,
And the earth had a lord to
possess her.
No longer ruled blindly the iron-bound
spear,
And the weak and the peaceful no
longer need fear
Being crushed by the cruel
oppressor.
And the emperor speaks with a smile
in his eye,
While the golden goblet he
seizes:
With this banquet in glory
none other can vie,
And my regal heart well it
pleases;
Yet the minstrel, the bringer of
joy, is not here,
Whose melodious strains to my heart
are so dear,
And whose words heavenly wisdom
inspire;
Since the days of my youth it hath
been my delight,
And that which I ever have loved
as a knight,
As a monarch I also require.
And behold! mongst the princes
who stand round the throne
Steps the bard, in his robe
long and streaming,
While, bleached by the years that
have over him flown,
His silver locks brightly
are gleaming;
Sweet harmony sleeps in the
golden strings,
The minstrel of true love reward
ever sings,
And adores what to virtue
has tended-
What the bosom may wish, what the
senses hold dear;
But say, what is worthy the emperors
ear
At this, of all feasts the
most splendid?
No restraint would I place
on the minstrels own choice,
Speaks the monarch, a smile
on each feature;
He obeys the swift hours
imperious voice,
Of a far greater lord is the
creature.
For, as through the air the storm-wind
on-speeds,-
One knows not from whence its wild
roaring proceeds-
As the spring from hid sources
up-leaping,
So the lay of the bard from the
inner heart breaks
While the might of sensations unknown
it awakes,
That within us were wondrously
sleeping.
Then the bard swept the cords with
a finger of might,
Evoking their magical sighing:
To the chase once rode forth
a valorous knight,
In pursuit of the antelope
flying.
His hunting-spear bearing, there
came in his train
His squire; and when oer
a wide-spreading plain
On his stately steed he was
riding,
He heard in the distance a bell
tinkling clear,
And a priest, with the Host, he
saw soon drawing near,
While before him the sexton
was striding.
And low to the earth the
Count then inclined,
Bared his head in humble submission,
To honor, with trusting and Christian-like
mind,
What had saved the whole world
from perdition.
But a brook oer the plain
was pursuing its course,
That swelled by the mountain streams
headlong force,
Barred the wanderers
steps with its current;
So the priest on one side the blest
sacrament put,
And his sandal with nimbleness drew
from his foot,
That he safely might pass
through the torrent.
What wouldst thou?
the Count to him thus began,
His wondering look toward
him turning:
My journey is, lord, to a
dying man,
Who for heavenly diet is yearning;
But when to the bridge oer
the brook I came nigh,
In the whirl of the stream, as it
madly rushed by
With furious might twas
uprooted.
And so, that the sick the salvation
may find
That he pants for, I hasten with
resolute mind
To wade through the waters
barefooted.
Then the Count made him mount
on his stately steed,
And the reins to his hands
he confided,
That he duly might comfort the sick
in his need,
And that each holy rite be
provided.
And himself, on the back of the
steed of his squire,
Went after the chase to his hearts
full desire,
While the priest on his journey
was speeding
And the following morning, with
thankful look,
To the Count once again his charger
he took,
Its bridle with modesty leading.
God forbid that in
chase or in battle, then cried
The Count with humility lowly,
The steed I henceforward
should dare to bestride
That had borne my Creator
so holy!
And if, as a guerdon, he may not
be thine,
He devoted shall be to the service
divine,
Proclaiming His infinite merit,
From whom I each honor and earthly
good
Have received in fee, and my body
and blood,
And my breath, and my life,
and my spirit.
Then may God, the
sure rock, whom no time can eer move,
And who lists to the weaks
supplication,
For the honor thou payst
Him, permit thee to prove
Honor here, and hereafter
salvation!
Thourt a powerful Count,
and thy knightly command
Hath blazoned thy fame through the
Switzers broad land;
Thou art blest with six daughters
admired;
May they each in thy house introduce
a bright crown,
Filling ages unborn with their glorious
renown-
Thus exclaimed he in accents
inspired.
And the emperor sat there all-thoughtfully,
While the dream of the past
stood before him;
And when on the minstrel he turned
his eye,
His words hidden meaning
stole oer him;
For seeing the traits of the priest
there revealed,
In the folds of his purple-dyed
robe he concealed
His tears as they swiftly
coursed down.
And all on the emperor wonderingly
gazed,
And the blest dispensations of Providence
praised,
For the Count and the C?sar
were one.
© e-libr.com
feedback