Part 3

"O rise, my child," her mother said, "Nor sorrow thus in vain; A perjured lover's fleeting heart No tears recall again."--

"O mother, what is gone, is gone, What's lost forever lorn; Death, death alone can comfort me; O had I ne'er been born!

"O break, my heart,--O break at once! Drink my life-blood, Despair! No joy remains on earth for me, For me in heaven no share."--

"O enter not in judgment, Lord!" The pious mother prays; "Impute not guilt to thy frail child! She knows not what she says.

"O say thy pater noster, child! O turn to God and grace! His will, that turned thy bliss to bale, Can change thy bale to bliss."--

"O mother, mother, what is bliss? O mother, what is bale? My William's love was heaven on earth, Without it earth is hell.

"Why should I pray to ruthless Heaven, Since my loved William's slain? I only prayed for William's sake, And all my prayers were vain."--

"O take the sacrament, my child, And check these tears that flow; By resignation's humble prayer, O hallowed be thy woe!"--

"No sacrament can quench this fire, Or slake this scorching pain; No sacrament can bid the dead Arise and live again.

"O break, my heart,--O break at once! Be thou my god, Despair! Heaven's heaviest blow has fallen on me, And vain each fruitless prayer."--

"O enter not in judgment, Lord, With thy frail child of clay! She knows not what her tongue has spoke; Impute it not, I pray!

"Forbear, my child, this desperate woe, And turn to God and grace; Well can devotion's heavenly glow Convert thy bale to bliss."--

"O mother, mother, what is bliss? O mother, what is bale? Without my William what were heaven, Or with him what were hell?"--

Wild she arraigns the eternal doom, Upbraids each sacred power, Till, spent, she sought her silent room, All in the lonely tower.

She beat her breast, she wrung her hands, Till sun and day were o'er, And through the glimmering lattice shone The twinkling of the star.

Then, crash! the heavy drawbridge fell That o'er the moat was hung; And, clatter! clatter! on its boards The hoof of courser rung.

The clank of echoing steel was heard As off the rider bounded; And slowly on the winding stair A heavy footstep sounded.

And hark! and hark! a knock--Tap! tap! A rustling stifled noise;-- Door-latch and tinkling staples ring;-- At length a whispering voice.

"Awake, awake, arise, my love! How, Helen, dost thou fare? Wakest thou, or sleepest? laughest thou, or weepest? Hast thought on me, my fair?"--

"My love! my love!--so late by night!-- I waked, I wept for thee: Much have I borne since dawn of morn; Where, William, couldst thou be!"--

"We saddle late--from Hungary I rode since darkness fell; And to its bourne we both return Before the matin-bell."--

"O rest this night within my arms, And warm thee in their fold! Chill howls through hawthorn bush the wind:-- My love is deadly cold."--

"Let the wind howl through hawthorn bush! This night we must away; The steed is wight, the spur is bright; I cannot stay till day.

"Busk, busk, and boune![1] Thou mount'st behind Upon my black barb steed: O'er stock and stile, a hundred miles, We haste to bridal bed."--

"To-night--to-night a hundred miles!-- O dearest William, stay! The bell strikes twelve--dark, dismal hour? O wait, my love, till day!"--

"Look here, look here--the moon shines clear-- Full fast I ween we ride; Mount and away! for ere the day We reach our bridal bed.

"The black barb snorts, the bridle rings; Haste, busk, and boune, and seat thee! The feast is made, the chamber spread, The bridal guests await thee."--

Strong love prevailed: she busks, she bounes, She mounts the barb behind, And round her darling William's waist Her lily arms she twines.

And, hurry! hurry! off they rode, As fast as fast might be; Spurned from the courser's thundering heels The flashing pebbles flee.

And on the right, and on the left, Ere they could snatch a view, Fast, fast each mountain, mead, and plain, And cot, and castle, flew.

"Sit fast--dost fear?--The moon shines clear-- Fleet goes my barb--keep hold! Fearest thou?"--"O no!" she faintly said; "But why so stern and cold?

"What yonder rings? what yonder sings? Why shrieks the owlet gray?"-- "'Tis death-bells' clang, 'tis funeral song, The body to the clay.

"With song and clang, at morrow's dawn. Ye may inter the dead: To-night I ride, with my young bride, To deck our bridal bed.

"Come with thy choir, thou coffined guest, To swell our nuptial song! Come, priest, to bless our marriage feast! Come all, come all along!"--

Ceased clang and song; down sunk the bier; The shrouded corpse arose: And, hurry, hurry! all the train The thundering steed pursues.

And, forward! forward! on they go; High snorts the straining steed; Thick pants the rider's laboring breath, As headlong on they speed.

"O William, why this savage haste? And where thy bridal bed?"-- "'Tis distant far, low, damp, and chill, And narrow, trustless maid."--

"No room for me?"--"Enough for both;-- Speed, speed, my barb, thy course!" O'er thundering bridge, through boiling surge, He drove the furious horse.

Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode, Splash! splash! along the sea; The scourge is wight, the spur is bright, The flashing pebbles flee.

Fled past on right and left how fast Each forest, grove, and bower! On right and left fled past how fast Each city, town, and tower!

"Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear, Dost fear to ride with me?-- Hurrah! hurrah! the dead can ride!" "O William, let them be!--

"See there, see there! What yonder swings And creaks 'mid whistling rain?"-- "Gibbet and steel, th' accursed wheel; A murderer in his chain.--

"Hollo! thou felon, follow here: To bridal bed we ride; And thou shalt prance a fetter dance Before me and my bride."--

And, hurry! hurry! clash, clash, clash! The wasted form descends; And fleet as wind through hazel bush The wild career attends.

Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode, Splash! splash! along the sea; The scourge is red, the spur drops blood, The flashing pebbles flee.

How fled what moonshine faintly showed! How fled what darkness hid! How fled the earth beneath their feet, The heaven above their head!

"Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear. And well the dead can ride; Does faithful Helen fear for them?"-- "O leave in peace the dead!"--

"Barb! Barb! methinks I hear the cock; The sand will soon be run: Barb! Barb! I smell the morning air; The race is well-nigh done."--

Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode; Splash! splash! along the sea; The scourge is red, the spur drops blood, The flashing pebbles flee.

"Hurrah! hurrah! well ride the dead; The bride, the bride is come; And soon we reach the bridal bed, For, Helen, here's my home."--

Reluctant on its rusty hinge Revolved an iron door, And by the pale moon's setting beam Were seen a church and tower.

With many a shriek and cry whiz round The birds of midnight, scared; And rustling like autumnal leaves Unhallowed ghosts were heard.

O'er many a tomb and tombstone pale He spurred the fiery horse, Till sudden at an open grave He checked the wondrous course.

The falling gauntlet quits the rein, Down drops the casque of steel, The cuirass leaves his shrinking side, The spur his gory heel.

The eyes desert the naked skull, The mouldering flesh the bone, Till Helen's lily arms entwine A ghastly skeleton.

The furious barb snorts fire and foam, And, with a fearful bound, Dissolves at once in empty air, And leaves her on the ground.

Half seen by fits, by fits half heard, Pale spectres flit along, Wheel round the maid in dismal dance, And howl the funeral song:

"E'en when the heart's with anguish cleft, Revere the doom of Heaven. Her soul is from her body reft; Her spirit be forgiven!"

_Buerger's "Leonore"--Translated by Sir Walter Scott._

FOOTNOTES:

[1] _Busk_--to dress. _Boune_--to prepare one's self for a journey.

THE GREETING ON KYNAST.

She said: This narrow chamber is not for me the place, Said the lady Kunigunde of Kynast! 'Tis pleasanter on horseback, I'll hie me to the chase, Said the lady Kunigunde!

She said: The knight who weds me, I do require of him, Said the lady Kunigunde of Kynast! To gallop round the Kynast and break not neck nor limb.

A noble knight came forward and galloped round the wall; The lady Kunigunde of Kynast, The lady, without lifting a finger, saw him fall.

And yet another galloped around the battlement; The lady Kunigunde, The lady saw him tumble, yet did she not relent.

And rider after rider spurred round his snorting horse; The lady Kunigunde Saw him vanish o'er the rampart, and never felt remorse.

Long time the folly lasted, then came no rider more; The lady Kunigunde, They would not ride to win her, the trial was too sore.

She stood upon her towers, she looked upon the land, The lady Kunigunde of Kynast: I'm all alone at home here, will no one seek my hand?

Is there none will ride to win me, to win me for his bride, The lady Kunigunde of Kynast? O fie, the paltry rider who dreads the bridal ride!

Then out and spake from Thueringen the Landgrave Adelbert: The lady Kunigunde of Kynast! Well may the haughty damsel her worthiness assert.

He trains his horse to gallop on narrow walls of stone; The lady Kunigunde of Kynast! The lady shall not see us break neck or limb or bone.

See here, O noble lady, I'm he that dares the ride! The lady Kunigunde, She looks in thoughtful silence, to see him sit in pride.

She saw him now make ready, then trembled she and sighed, The lady Kunigunde: Woe's me that I so fearful have made the bridal ride!

Then rode he round the Kynast; her face she turned away, The lady Kunigunde: Woe 's me, the knight is riding down to his grave to-day!

He rides around the Kynast, right round the narrow wall; The lady Kunigunde! She cannot stir for terror her lily hand at all.

He rides around the Kynast, clear round the battlement; The lady Kunigunde! As if a breath might kill him, she held her breath suspent.

He rode around the Kynast and straight to her rode he; Said the lady Kunigunde of Kynast: Thanks be to God in heaven, who gave thy life to thee!

Thanks be to God that into thy grave thou didst not ride! Said the lady Kunigunde: Come down from off thy horse now, O knight, unto thy bride!

Then spake the noble rider, and greeted, as he sate, The lady Kunigunde: O trust a knight for horsemanship! well have I taught thee that.

Now wait till comes another who can the same thing do, O lady Kunigunde of Kynast! I've wife and child already, can be no spouse for you.

He gave his steed the spur, now; rode back the way he came; The lady Kunigunde! The lady saw him vanish, she swooned with scorn and shame.

And she remains a virgin, her pride had such a fall, The lady Kunigunde! Changed to a wooden image she stands in sight of all.

An image, like a hedgehog, with spines for hair, is now The lady Kunigunde of Kynast! The stranger has to kiss it, who climbs the Kynast's brow.

We bring it him to kiss it: and if it shocks his pride, The lady Kunigunde of Kynast! He must pay down his forfeit, who will not kiss the bride, The lady Kunigunde!

_Rueckert. Tr. C. T. Brooks._

HARRAS, THE BOLD LEAPER.

The world yet waited in shadowy light The dawn of the rising day; And scarcely yet had waked the night From the slumber in which it lay. But, hark! along the forest way Unwonted echoes rung, And all accoutred for the fray A band of warriors sprung!

And forth they rushed along the plain, In thunder, to the fight; And foremost of that martial train Was Harras, the gallant knight. They ride upon their secret way, O'er forest and vale and down, To reach their foe while yet 'tis day, And storm his castled town.

So sally they forth from the forest gloom; But as they leave its shade They rush, alas! to meet their doom, And their progress is betrayed: For suddenly bursts upon their rear The foe, with twice their force; Then out at once rush shield and spear, And the charger flies on his course.

And the wood in unwonted echoes rang With the sounds of that deadly fray, And the sabre's clash and the helmet's clang Is mixed with the courser's neigh. A thousand wounds have dyed the field Unheeded in the strife; But not a man will ask to yield, For freedom is dearer than life!

But their stronger foes must win the day, And the knights begin to fail; For the sword hath swept their best array, And superior powers prevail. Unconquered alone, to a rocky height Bold Harras fought his way; And his brave steed carried him through the fight, And bore him safe away.

And he left the rein to that trusty steed, And rode from the fatal fray; But he gave to his erring path no heed, And he missed the well-known way. And when he heard the foemen near, He sprang from the forest gloom; But as soon as he reached the daylight clear, He saw at once his doom!

He had reached a frightful precipice, Where he heard the deep waves roll; For he stood on Zschopauthal's dread abyss, And horror chilled his soul! For on yonder bank he could espy The remnant of his band; And his heart impatient panted high, As they waved the friendly hand.

And he longed, as he looked o'er that dreadful steep, For wings to aid his flight; For that cliff is full fifty fathoms deep, And his horse drew back with fright. And he saw, as he looked behind and below, On either side his grave: Behind him, from the coming foe; Before him, in the wave!

And he chooses 'twixt death from the foemen's hand, Or death where the deep waves roll; Then he boldly rides up to that rocky strand, And commends to the Lord his soul! And as nearer he hears the foemen ride, He seeks the utmost steep; And he plunges his spurs in his courser's side, And dares the dreadful leap!

And swiftly he sank through the yielding air, And into the flood he fell; His steed is dashed to atoms there, But the knight lives safe and well! And mid the plaudits of his band, He stemmed the parting wave, And soon in safety reached the land, For Heaven will never forsake the brave!

_Karl Theodor Koerner. Tr. G. F. Richardson._

THE KNIGHT'S LEAP.

"So the foeman has fired the gate, men of mine, And the water is spent and done; Then bring me a cup of the red Ahr-wine; I never shall drink but this one.

"And fetch me my harness, and saddle my horse, And lead him me round to the door: He must take such a leap to-night perforce As horse never took before.

"I have lived by the saddle for years two score, And if I must die on tree, The old saddle-tree, which has borne me of yore, Is the properest timber for me.

"I have lived my life, I have fought my fight, I have drunk my share of wine; From Trier to Coeln there was never a knight Led a merrier life than mine.

"So now to show bishop and burgher and priest How the Altenahr hawk can die, If they smoke the old falcon out of his nest, He must take to his wings and fly."

He harnessed himself by the clear moonshine, And he mounted his horse at the door, And he drained such a cup of the red Ahr-wine As never man drained before.

He spurred the old horse, and he held him tight, And he leapt him out over the wall; Out over the cliff, out into the night, Three hundred feet of fall.

They found him next morning below in the glen, And never a bone in him whole; But Heaven may yet have more mercy than men On such a bold rider's soul.

_Charles Kingsley._

THE LEAP OF ROUSHAN BEG.

Mounted on Kyrat strong and fleet, His chestnut steed with four white feet, Roushan Beg, called Kurroglou, Son of the road and bandit chief, Seeking refuge and relief, Up the mountain pathway flew.

Such was Kyrat's wondrous speed, Never yet could any steed Reach the dust-cloud in his course. More than maiden, more than wife, More than gold and next to life Roushan the Robber loved his horse.

In the land that lies beyond Erzeroum and Trebizond, Garden-girt his fortress stood; Plundered khan, or caravan Journeying north from Koordistan, Gave him wealth and wine and food.

Seven hundred and fourscore Men at arms his livery wore, Did his bidding night and day. Now, through regions all unknown, He was wandering, lost, alone, Seeking without guide his way.

Suddenly the pathway ends, Sheer the precipice descends, Loud the torrent roars unseen; Thirty feet from side to side Yawns the chasm; on air must ride He who crosses this ravine.

Following close in his pursuit, At the precipice's foot, Reyhan the Arab of Orfah Halted with his hundred men, Shouting upward from the glen, "La Illah illa Allah!"

Gently Roushan Beg caressed Kyrat's forehead, neck, and breast; Kissed him upon both his eyes; Sang to him in his wild way, As upon the topmost spray Sings a bird before it flies.

"O my Kyrat, O my steed, Round and slender as a reed, Carry me this peril through! Satin housings shall be thine. Shoes of gold, O Kyrat mine, O thou soul of Kurroglou!

"Soft thy skin as silken skein, Soft as woman's hair thy mane, Tender are thine eyes and true; All thy hoofs like ivory shine, Polished bright; O, life of mine, Leap, and rescue Kurroglou!"

Kyrat, then, the strong and fleet, Drew together his four white feet, Paused a moment on the verge, Measured with his eye the space, And into the air's embrace Leaped as leaps the ocean surge.

As the ocean surge o'er sand Bears a swimmer safe to land, Kyrat safe his rider bore; Rattling down the deep abyss Fragments of the precipice Rolled like pebbles on a shore.

Roushan's tasselled cap of red Trembled not upon his head, Careless sat he and upright; Neither hand nor bridle shook, Nor his head he turned to look, As he galloped out of sight.

Flash of harness in the air, Seen a moment like the glare Of a sword drawn from its sheath; Thus the phantom horseman passed, And the shadow that he cast Leaped the cataract underneath.

Reyhan the Arab held his breath While this vision of life and death Passed above him. "Allahu!" Cried he. "In all Koordistan Lives there not so brave a man As this Robber Kurroglou!"

_H. W. Longfellow._

ANNAN WATER.

"Annan water's wading deep, And my love Annie's wondrous bonny; And I am laith she suld weet her feet, Because I love her best of ony.

"Gar saddle me the bonny black, Gar saddle sune, and make him ready; For I will down the Gatehope-Slack, And all to see my bonny ladye."--

He has loupen on the bonny black, He stirr'd him wi' the spur right sairly; But, or he wan the Gatehope-Slack, I think the steed was wae and weary.

He has loupen on the bonny grey, He rade the right gate and the ready; I trow he would neither stint nor stay, For he was seeking his bonny ladye.

O he has ridden o'er field and fell, Through muir and moss, and mony a mire: His spurs o' steel were sair to bide, And fra her fore-feet flew the fire.

"Now, bonny grey, now play your part! Gin ye be the steed that wins my deary, Wi' corn and hay ye'se be fed for aye, And never spur sall make you wearie."--

The grey was a mare, and a right good mare; But when she wan the Annan water, She couldna hae ridden a furlong mair, Had a thousand merks been wadded at her.

"O boatman, boatman, put off your boat! Put off your boat for gowden money! I cross the drumly stream the night, Or never mair I see my honey."--

"O I was sworn sae late yestreen, And not by ae aith, but by many; And for a' the gowd in fair Scotland, I dare na take ye through to Annie."

The side was stey, and the bottom deep, Frae bank to brae the water pouring; And the bonny grey mare did sweat for fear, For she heard the water-kelpy roaring.

O he has pou'd aff his dapperpy coat, The silver buttons glanced bonny; The waistcoat bursted aff his breast, He was sae full of melancholy.

He has ta'en the ford at that stream tail; I wot he swam both strong and steady; But the stream was broad, and his strength did fail, And he never saw his bonny ladye!

"O wae betide the frush saugh wand! And wae betide the bush of brier! It brake into my true love's hand, When his strength did fail, and his limbs did tire.

"And wae betide ye, Annan Water, This night that ye are a drumlie river! For over thee I'll build a bridge, That ye never more true love may sever."

THOMAS THE RHYMER.

True Thomas lay on Huntlie bank;[2] A ferlie[3] he spied wi' his ee; And there he saw a ladye bright, Come riding down by the Eildon Tree.

Her shirt was o' the grass-green silk, Her mantle o' the velvet fyne; At ilka[4] tett of her horse's mane, Hung fifty siller bells and nine.

True Thomas, he pulled aff his cap, And louted[5] low down to his knee, "All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven! For thy peer on earth I never did see."

"O no, O no, Thomas," she said, "That name does not belang to me; I am but the Queen of fair Elfland, That am hither come to visit thee.

"Harp and carp, Thomas," she said; "Harp and carp along wi' me; And if ye dare to kiss my lips, Sure of your bodie I will be."

"Betide me weal, betide me woe, That weird[6] shall never daunton me."-- Syne he has kiss'd her rosy lips, All underneath the Eildon Tree.

"Now, ye maun go wi' me," she said; "True Thomas, ye maun go wi' me; And ye maun serve me seven years, Thro' weal or woe as may chance to be."

She mounted on her milk-white steed; She's ta'en true Thomas up behind: And aye, whene'er her bridle rung, The steed flew swifter than the wind.

O they rade on, and farther on; The steed gaed swifter than the wind; Until they reached a desert wide, And living land was left behind.

"Light down, light down, now, true Thomas, And lean your head upon my knee; Abide and rest a little space, And I will show you ferlies[7] three.