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Translated by W. W. Caldwell
FAR within the lone Kyffhäuser, | |
| With a lamp red glimmering by | |
| Sits the aged Emperor Frederick, | |
| At a marble table nigh. | |
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| Covered with a purple mantle, | 5 |
| And in armor glancing bright, | |
| Still upon his moveless eyelids | |
| Lieth slumber’s heavy night. | |
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| On his features, calm yet earnest, | |
| Love and sternness each is shown, | 10 |
| And his beard, so long and golden, | |
| Through the marble stone hath grown. | |
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| Here, like brazen statues standing, | |
| All his knights their lord surround, | |
| Sword begirt, in armor gleaming, | 15 |
| But like him in slumber bound. | |
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| Henry, he of Ofterdingen, | |
| Mid the silent ranks is there, | |
| With his lips so skilled in singing, | |
| And his yellow curling hair. | 20 |
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| By his side his harp reclineth, | |
| Like its master, voiceless now, | |
| But a coming song is sleeping | |
| Yet upon his noble brow. | |
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| All is silent, save the moisture | 25 |
| Dropping slowly from the wall,— | |
| Silent, till the appointed morning | |
| Breaks in glory over all. | |
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| Till the eagle’s mighty pinions | |
| Round the mountain-summit play, | 30 |
| At whose rush the swarming ravens, | |
| Quick affrighted, flee away. | |
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| Comes a sound like far-off thunder, | |
| Rolling through the mountain then, | |
| And the emperor grasps his sword-hilt, | 35 |
| And the knights awake again. | |
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| Loud upon its hinges sounding, | |
| Open springs the brazen door, | |
| Barbarossa and his followers | |
| Walk in bright array once more. | 40 |
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| On his helm the crown he beareth, | |
| And the sceptre in his hand; | |
| Swords are glancing, harps are ringing, | |
| Where he moveth through the land. | |
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| All before the monarch bending | 45 |
| Render him the homage due, | |
| And the holy German Empire | |
| Foundeth he at Aix anew. | |
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