Classic Poem

A chill damp wind, and a barren land;
The chaise jolts through the mire;
But, ringing and singing, I seem to hear:
" Sun, thou accusing fire! "

'Twas a ballad my old nurse often sang,
On a tale of murder founded;
The burden was, " Sun, thou accusing fire! "
Like a bugle call it sounded.

The murderer lived in mirth and glee,
And slept on an easy pillow,
Till at last in the wood they found him dead,
Hanged high on a hoary willow.

By the sun convicted, the murderer fell
Beneath the avenger's ire.
Ottilia, dying, to heaven had screamed,
" Sun, thou accusing fire! "

And whenever I think of that stirring song,
And how the burden moved me,
I remember my nurse's wrinkled face,
And how the dear soul loved me.

Near Münster born, she was quite a mine
Of ghostly tales and gory,
And many a folksong, too, could sing,
And legend and ancient story.

How my heart would beat when she told me the woes
Of the princess, captive holden,
Who sat alone on a desolate waste,
Her tresses shining golden!

From morn till night she herded geese,
And when she took her late way
Toward the town and had homed her flock,
She would pause beside the gateway.

The head of the horse was nailed above,
Who had borne her, and shared her danger,
When she left her happy home to dwell
In that cruel land, a stranger.

" O Falada! " oft the maid would sigh,
" That thou shouldst be hanging yonder! "
And the horse would answer, " Alack the day,
That hither thou didst wander! "

" If my mother knew, " the maid would mourn,
" That thus we pine and languish! "
And the head would answer sadly down,
" Her heart would break for anguish! "

I listened with breathless eagerness,
Hoarding each word like a miser,
When she told me the strange, mysterious tale
Of Barbarossa, the Kaiser.

She assured me he was not really dead,
Though learned folk might say so;
With his knights in a mountain he slumbered, hid,
And had dwelt for many a day so.

Kyffhäuser, she said, was the mountain's name
That he dreed his royal doom in.
'Tis a cave with vaulted chambers high,
Which ghostly lamps illumine.

The first of the rooms is a stable vast,
Where, dight in harness splendid,
Thousands and thousands of horses stand
Above the mangers bended.

They are saddled and bridled, one and all,
But never a neigh gives token
Of life, they stand like statues of iron
In a silence for ever unbroken.

In the second hall the soldiers sleep,
Stretched out in their straw-strewn places:
Thousands of soldiers, bearded and rough,
With bold and warlike faces.

And each is armed from top to toe,
But never a one of the number
Is seen to toss or stir at all;
They lie in dreamless slumber.

In the third room axes and spears and swords
Are piled in mounting stages,
With helmets and harness, and firearms used
By the Franks of the Middle Ages.

The cannons, though not very numerous, serve
To commemorate fields well holden;
From the top of the pile a standard flaunts
The colours, black-red-golden.

In the fourth hall dwells the Kaiser himself,
On a chair of stone he is seated;
By a table of stone, his head on his hand,
He has sat while the ages fleeted.

His beard is as red as a fiery flame,
That beard which grew so bravely
That it touched the ground; and now he will move
An eyelid, and now frown gravely.

Is the Kaiser asleep, or lost in thought?
What boots such vain surmising?
When comes the appointed hour at last,
He will wake, be sure, and rising,

Will shout on a sudden " To horse! To horse! "
While his standard he seizes boldly;
And his warriors, hearing, will spring from the ground
Where they slept so long and so coldly.

They will leap to the saddle, and every horse
Will whinny and paw to be going;
And they'll gallop away through the echoing world,
With the trumpets lustily blowing.

O boldly they'll ride, and boldly they'll charge,
For their age-long sleep is over.
A stern tribunal the Kaiser will hold,
And the dastardly crime uncover

Of those murderous cowards who cruelly slew
Our virgin of heart's desire,
Young Germany fair with her locks of gold —
" Sun, thou accusing fire! "

And many who laughed and thought themselves safe
Within their lordly castles,
Barbarossa will order his hangman to swing
From the rope, like caitiff vassals.

Oh, sweet my old nurse's tales to recall!
Their beauties never tire.
My superstitious heart exults:
" Sun, thou accusing fire! "

A rain as sharp as needle-points
Falls, icy cold and wetting;
The horses lash their dispirited tails,
And wade through the puddles, sweating.

The postillion tootles the good old tune —
I know every note that is in it —
" Three riders come galloping out through the gate; "
I grow drowsier every minute.

Then I fell asleep, and lo! in a dream,
The earth was cleft asunder,
And I stood by Barbarossa's side
In Kyffhäuser's cave of wonder.

But he was not sitting, a statue of stone,
By a stony chair and table;
Nor did he look quite so worthy of awe
As they picture him in the fable.

He showed me his rooms, and waddled about,
And chatted with intimate pleasure:
Like an antiquarian pointed out
Full many a curious treasure.

In the hall of armour he stopped to explain
How the club should be held and wielded;
And, using his ermine to polish some swords,
He rubbed till the rust had yielded.

Then he took up a pair of peacock's plumes,
And, adroit of hand, had quickly
Removed from the helmets and coats of mail
The dust that covered them thickly.

" Of the standard, " he said, " I am proudest of all;
Mark the wood; no worm has gnawed it.
And the silk, I maintain, is as good as new;
You will find not a moth has flawed it. "

When we came to the hall, where the warriors armed
Lay asleep on their pallets lowly,
The old man said with a roguish grin,
" Hush! Here we must walk more slowly,

" And talk in whispers in case they should hear;
For this, you must know, is a heyday;
Another hundred years have fled,
And brought us round to pay-day. "

The Kaiser approached with a stealthy foot
His men on their quiet couches.
And slipped a ducat with deft despatch
Into every one of their pouches.

I was greatly astonished and stared in surprise,
But he smirked and explained, " My plan is
To pay them thus every hundred years;
The wage a ducat per man is. "

In the hall where steeds by the thousand stood,
Each silent beside its manger,
The Kaiser merrily rubbed his hands —
His manner was even stranger.

He counted them over, one by one,
And poked their ribs, approving;
He counted and counted, with anxious haste
His eager lips kept moving.

" The number, alas! is not yet complete, "
He sighed, his brow grown gloomy.
" Of soldiers and weapons I've more than enough,
But the horses would undo me.

" It is true there's a goodly number there,
And dealers, charged to supply me
With more, are scouring the earth — I want
The best that money can buy me;

" But the tale is not yet complete, when it is
I will strike my blow belated
For my Fatherland and my German folk,
That so long have wearily waited. "

The Emperor paused, and I eagerly cried,
" Nay, strike at once; time passes.
If horses, old fellow, are all you want,
In their stead you can surely use asses. "

Barbarossa returned, with an easy laugh,
" As to time, we need not worry.
Rome was not built in a day; no good
Has ever resulted from hurry.

" He comes to-morrow who comes not to-day;
The oak is long in the growing;
And chi va piano, va sano is true
By the Roman proverb's showing.