Great Stories from the German Romantics. Ludwig Tieck

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       THE TRUSTY ECKART

      BRAVE BURGUNDY NO longer

      Could fight for fatherland;

      The foe they were the stronger,

      Upon the bloody sand.

      He said: “The foe prevaileth,

      My friends and followers fly,

      My striving naught availeth,

      My spirits sink and die.

      No more can I exert me,

      Or sword and lance can wield;

      O, why did he desert me,

      Eckart, our trusty shield!

      In fight he used to guide me,

      In danger was my stay;

      Alas, he’s not beside me,

      But stays at home today!

      The crowds are gathering faster,

      Took captive shall I be?

      I may not run like dastard,

      I’ll die like soldier free.”

      Thus Burgundy so bitter,

      Has at his breast his sword;

      When, see, breaks-in the Ritter

      Eckart, to save his lord!

      With cap and armour glancing,

      Bold on the foe he rides,

      His troop behind him prancing,

      And his two sons besides.

      Burgundy sees their token,

      And cries: “Now, God be praised!

      Not yet we’re beat or broken,

      Since Eckart’s flag is raised.”

      Then like a true knight, Eckart

      Dash’d gaily through the foe:

      But with his red blood flecker’d,

      His little son lay low.

      And when the fight was ended,

      Then Burgundy he speaks:

      “Thou hast me well befriended,

      Yet so as wets my cheeks.

      The foe is smote and flying;

      Thou’st saved my land and life;

      But here thy boy is lying,

      Returns not from the strife.”

      Then Eckart wept almost,

      The tear stood in his eye;

      He clasp’d the son he’d lost,

      Close to his breast the boy.

      “Why diedst thou, Heinz, so early,

      And scarce wast yet a man?

      Thou’rt fallen in battle fairly;

      For thee I’ll not complain.

      Thee, Prince, we have deliver’d;

      From danger thou art free:

      The boy and I are sever’d;

      I give my son to thee.”

      Then Burgundy our chief,

      His eyes grew moist and dim;

      He felt such joy and grief,

      So great that love to him.

      His heart was melting, flaming,

      He fell on Eckart’s breast,

      With sobbing voice exclaiming:

      “Eckart, my champion best,

      Thou stoodst when every other

      Had fled from me away;

      Therefore thou art my brother

      Forever from this day.

      The people shall regard thee

      As wert thou of my line;

      And could I more reward thee,

      How gladly were it thine!”

      And when we heard the same,

      We joy’d as did our prince;

      And Trusty Eckart is the name

      We’ve call’d him ever since.

      The voice of an old peasant sounded over the rocks, as he sang this ballad; and the Trusty Eckart sat in his grief, on the declivity of the hill, and wept aloud. His youngest boy was standing by him: “Why weepest thou aloud, my father Eckart?” said he: “Art thou not great and strong, taller and braver than any other man? Whom, then, art thou afraid СКАЧАТЬ