Translations from the German · Thomas Carlyle
THE TRUSTY ECKART.
When the Duke had done praying, he said: "Very strange have my thoughts been this night, and the goodness of God 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 God 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 Tannenhaeuser, 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 passed 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 noblest 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 breasts 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 grass 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 hellish arts detected, A horror him possessed. And now he sees the raging Of his young princes dear; Themselves to Hell 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 assail'd him, He wist not what to do; His knighthood almost fail'd him Amid that hellish 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. And from the mountains issue Crowds of distorted forms, Of Dwarfs a boundless tissue Come simmering round in swarms.
The youths, possess'd, are running As frantic in the crowd: In vain is force or cunning; In vain to call aloud. And hurries on by castle, By tower and town, the rout; Like imps in hellish wassail, With cackling laugh and shout. He too is in the rabble; May not resist their force, Must hear their deafening babble, Attend their frantic course. But now the Hill appeareth, And music comes thereout; And as the Phantoms hear it, They halt, and raise a shout. The Mountain starts asunder, A motley crowd is seen; This way and that they wander, In red unearthly sheen. Then his broad-sword he drew it, And says: "Still true, though lost!" And with mad force he heweth Through that Infernal host. His youths he sees (how gladly!) Escaping through the vale; The Fiends are fighting madly, And threatening to prevail. The Dwarfs, when hurt, fly downward, And rise up cured again; And other crowds rush onward, And fight with might and main. Then saw he from a distance The children safe, and cried: "They need not my assistance, I care not what betide." His good broad-sword doth glitter And flash i' th' noontide ray; The Dwarfs, with wailing bitter, And howls, depart away. Safe at the valley's ending, The youths far off he spies; Then faint and wounded, bending, The hero falls and dies.
So his last hour o'ertook him, Fighting like lion brave; His truth, it ne'er forsook him, He was faithful to the grave. Now Eckart having perish'd, The eldest son bore sway; His memory still he cherish'd, With grateful heart would say: "From foes and wreck to save me, Like lion grim he fought; My throne, my life, he gave me, And with his heart's blood bought." And soon a wondrous rumour The country round did fill, That when a desp'rate humour Doth send one to the Hill, There straight a Shape will meet him, The Trusty Eckart's ghost, And wistfully entreat him To turn, and not be lost. There he, though dead, yet ever True watch and ward doth hold; Upon the Earth shall never Be man so true and bold.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.