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Translated from the German by Jessie Lemont
Kings in old legends seem | |
| Like mountains rising in the evening light. | |
| They blind all with their gleam, | |
| Their loins encircled are by girdles bright, | |
| Their robes are edged with bands | 5 |
| Of precious stones, the rarest earth affords. | |
| With richly jeweled hands | |
| They hold their slender, shining, naked swords. | |
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| A YOUNG king from the North did fare, | |
| Defeated in the Ukraine. | 10 |
| He hated springtime and women’s hair | |
| And the sound of the harps’ refrain. | |
| Upon a steel grey horse he rode, | |
| And like steel was his grey eyes’ glance; | |
| Never for woman had they glowed, | 15 |
| And to none had he lowered his lance. | |
| Never a woman his colors claimed, | |
| And none to kiss him would dare; | |
| For at times, when his quick wrath flamed, | |
| A moon of pearls he would tear | 20 |
| From a coil of wondrous hair. | |
| When seized by melancholy mood | |
| He wreaked his will of a maid as he would, | |
| And the bridegroom, whose ring she wore, pursued | |
| Through the glade and across the heath | 25 |
| With a hundred hounds for many a rood, | |
| Till he hunted him to his death. | |
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| He left his grey land dim and far, | |
| Whose voice to him never spake; | |
| And rode out under the thrall of war | 30 |
| And fought for danger’s sake. | |
| Now he seemed under a spell to ride, | |
| Dreamily slipping his steel-gloved hand | |
| Over his armor from band to band; | |
| But found no sword at his side. | 35 |
| And then a miracle occurred— | |
| A glorious vision of battle stirred | |
| And fired his kindling pride. | |
| He sat on his horse and glanced around— | |
| No movement escaped him and no sound. | 40 |
| Steel unto steel in silver spoke, | |
| Voices were now in everything; | |
| Like many bells they seemed to ring | |
| As the soul of each thing awoke. | |
| The wind, too, stealthily onward crept | 45 |
| And suddenly into the flags it sprang— | |
| Lean like a panther breathless leapt; | |
| Reeling as blasts from the trumpets rang, | |
| It wrestled and laughed and sang. | |
| Then again it would softly hum, | 50 |
| As by some bleeding boy it would dart, | |
| Beating a rally upon his drum, | |
| Carried with uplifted head | |
| Into the grave, borne like his heart | |
| Before his battalions dead. | 55 |
| Many a mountain upward reared, | |
| As though the earth not yet old had grown | |
| But in the making still appeared. | |
| And now the iron stood still as stone, | |
| And then like a forest at evening swayed, | 60 |
| And ever the rising shape still neared | |
| The army’s mightily moving shade. | |
| The dust rose up like vapors veiled; | |
| Darkness, not of time, enveloped all, | |
| And everything grew grey and paled, | 65 |
| And smoke rose up and fell like a pall; | |
| Again flame broadened and grew bright, | |
| And all was festively in light. | |
| They attacked: the exotic colors reeled, | |
| On swarms of fantastic provinces rode; | 70 |
| All iron with laughter suddenly pealed; | |
| From a prince in luminous silver flowed | |
| The gleam of the evening battle-field. | |
| Like fluttering joys flags seemed to thrill, | |
| Each gesture now showed the desire | 75 |
| To regally waste, to wantonly spill— | |
| The flames leapt on far buildings, till | |
| The stars themselves caught fire. | |
| Night came. And the battle’s surging range | |
| Receded like a tired sea | 80 |
| That brought with it many dead and strange; | |
| And all the dead lay there heavily. | |
| The grey horse cautiously picked its way | |
| Past great fists starkly warning it back; | |
| In a foreign land the dead men lay | 85 |
| Where it stepped over grass that was matted and black. | |
| And he who upon the grey horse sat, | |
| Looked down on the colors moist and frayed, | |
| Saw silver like shivered glass ground flat, | |
| Saw iron wither, and helmets drink, | 90 |
| And swords stand stiff in the armor’s chink; | |
| Saw dying hands waving tattered brocade … | |
| And saw them not. | |
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| After the tumult of battle he rode | |
| Onward as though in a trance, alone; | 95 |
| And as with passion his warm cheeks glowed, | |
| Like those of a lover his grey eyes shone. | |
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