The Abduction of the Lady Gertrude von Hochburg

"Boy! — Saddle quick my Danish steed!
I rest not, I, until I ride:
These walls unsoul me — I would speed
Into the Farness wide!"
So spake Sir Carl, he scarce wist why,
With hurried voice and restless eye.
There haunted him some omen,
As 'twere, of slaying foemen.

Aneath the hoofs of that swift barb
The pebbles flew, the sparklets played;
When, lo! — who nears him, sad of garb?
'Tis Gertrude's weeping maid!
A thrill ran through the Ritter's frame —
It shrivelled up his flesh like flame,
And shook him like an illness,
With flushing heat and dullness.

u GOD shield you, Master! May you live
With health and gladness years on years!
My poor young lady — Oh, forgive
A helpless woman's tears! —
But lost to you is TrudkinV hand,
Through Freiherr Vorst from Pommerland;
That drooping flower her father
Hath sworn that Vorst shall gather!

"' By this bright battle-steed, if thou
But think on Carl,' — 'twas thus he said —
'Down shalt thou to the dungeon low,
Where toads shall share thy bed!
Nor will I rest, morn, noon, or night,
Till I have borne him down in fight,
And torn out, soon or later,
The heart of the false traitor!'

"The bride is in her chamber now:
What can she do but weep and sigh?
Dark sorrow dims her beauteous brow;
She wishes but to die.
Ah, yes! — and she shall soon sleep well
Low in the sufferer's last sad cell —
Soon will the death-bell's knelling
A dolesome tale be telling!

"' Go— tell him I must surely die!' —
Said she to me amid her tears —
— 'Oh, tell him that my last Good-bye
Is that which now he hears!
Go — GOD will guard you — go, and bring
To him from me this jewelled ring,
In token that his true-love
Chose Death before a new love!'"

Like shock of sudden thunderpeal
These tidings cleave the Ritter's ear;
The hills around him rock and reel,
The dim stars disappear;
Thoughts wilder than the hurricane
Flash lightning through his frenzied brain,
And wake him to commotion,
As Tempest waketh Ocean.

— "Goo's recompense, thou faithful one! —
Thy words have strung my soul for war —
GOD'S blessings on thee! — thou hast done
Thine errand well so far —
Now hie thee back, like mountain-deer,
And calm that trembling angel's fear —
This arm is strong to save her
From tyrant and enslaver!

"Speed, maiden, speed! — the moments now
Are worth imperial gems and gold —
Say that her knight has vowed a vow
That she shall ne'er be sold.
But, Lid her watch the starry Seven,
For, when they shine, I stand, please Heaven,
Before her casement-portal,
Come weal or woe immortal!

"Speed, maiden!" — And — as chased by Death-
Away, away, the damsel flies —
Sir Carl then paused a space for breath,
And rubbed his brows and eyes,
Then rode he to, and fro, and to,
While sparklets gleamed and pebbles flew,
Till Thought's exasperation
Found vent in agitation.

Anon he winds his foray horn,
And, wakeful to the welcome sound,
Come dashing down through corn and thorn
His vassals miles around:
To whom — each man apart — in ear
He whispers — " When again you hear
This horn wake wood and valley,
Be ready for a sally!"

Night now lay dark, with dews and damps,
On castled hill and lilied vale;
In Hochburg's lattices the lamps
Were waning dim and pale,
And Gertrude, mindless of the gloom,
Sat pondering in her lonesome room,
With many a saddening presage,
Her lover's bodeful message.

When, list! — what accents, low, yet clear,
Thrill to her heart with quick surprise?
"Ho, Trudkin, love! — thy knight is near —
Quick, up! — Awake! — Arise! —
Tis I, thy Carl, who call to thee —
Come forth, come out, and fly with me!
The westering moon gives warning
That Night is now nigh Morning." —

— "Ah, no, my Carl! — it may not be —
Wrong not so far thy stainless fame!
Were I to fly by night with thee,
Disgrace would brand my name —
Yet give me, give me one dear kiss!
I ask, I seek no other bliss
Than such a last love-token
Before I die heart-broken."

— u Nay, love, dread nothing! — Shame or blame
Shall never come where thou hast flown!
I swear, I hold thy name and fame
Far dearer than mine own!
Come! — thou shalt find a home anon
Where Wedlock's bands shall make us one —
Come, Sweet! — Needst fear no danger—-
Thou trustest not a stranger!"

— "But, — Carl, my sire! — thou knowest him well,
The proud Eix-baron — Oh, return! —
I tremble even now to tell
How fierce his wrath would burn!
Oh, he would track thee day and night,
And, thirsting to revenge the flight
Of his degenerate daughter,
Doom thee and thine to slaughter!"

— " Hush, hush, dear love!— this knightly crest
Will not, I trow, be soon disgraced!
Come forth, and fear not! — East or West,
Where'er thou wilt — but haste!
And still those tell-tale sobs and tears;
The winds are out, the Night hath ears,
The very stars that glisten
Begin to watch and listen!"

Alas, poor soul! How could she stand
Long wavering there in fitful doubt?
Up sprang Sir Carl — he caught her hand,
And drew her gently out;
Yet, never on a purer pair
Than that bold knight and maiden fair
Did look the starry legions
Whose inarch is o'er Earth's regions!

Near, in the faint grey haze of morn
They saw the steed — the Hitter swung
His lovely burden up; his horn
Around his neck he slung;
Then lightly leaped, himself, behind, —
And swift sped both as Winter-wind,
Till Hochburg in the glimmer
Of dawn grew dim arid dimmer.

But, ah! — even Ritter-love may fear
To breast the lion in his lair!
A menial in a chamber near
Had overheard the pair;
And, hungering for such golden gains
As might requite his treacherous pains,
He sent out through the darkness
A shout of thrilling starkness.

1 What ho, Herr Baron! Ho! Halloh!
Up, up from sleep! Out, out from bed!
Your child has fled to shame and woe
With one you hate and dread —
The Ritter Carl of Wolfenhain!
They speed asteed o'er dale and plain —
Up, if you would recover
The lady from her lover!"

Whop-hollow! Whoop! — Through saal and hall,
Through court and fort and donjon-keep,
Eftsoons rang loud the Baron's call,
"What ho!— Rouse, all, from sleep!
Ho, Freiherr Vorst, up, up! — Must know
The bride has hied to shame and woe
With Carl the Wolfenhainer!
Up! Arm! We must regain her!"

Swift speed the pair through Morning's damp,
When, hark! — what shouts teem down the wind?
Hark! hark! — the thunderstamp and tramp
Of horses' hoofs behind!
And, like a tempest, o'er the plain
Dashed Freiherr Vorst with trailing rein,
And curses deep and bitter
Upon the flying Ritter!

"Halt, midnight robber! Halt, I say,
Thou burglar-thief of bone-and-blood!
Halt, knave! Thy felon corse ere day
Shall serve the crow for food!
And thou, false woman! — by what right
Art here?— I tell thee that this flight
Will henceforth, as a trumpet,
Proclaim thee for a strumpet!"

"Thou liest, Vorst of Pommerain!
Thou liest in thy leprous throat I
Pure as yon moon in heaven from stain
Is she on whom I doat! —
— Sweet love! — I must dismount to teach
The slanderous wretch discreeter speech.
Down, thou who durst belie her,
Down from thy steed, vile Freiherr!"

Ah, then, I ween, did Gertrude feel
Her sick heart sink with pain and dread —
Meanwhile the foemen's bare bright steel
Flashed in the morning-red —
With clash and crash, with flout and shout,
Bang shrill the echoes round about,
And clouds of dust rose thicker
As clangorous blows fell quicker.

Like lightning's wrath came down at length
The Hitter's broadsteel on his foe,
And Yorst lay stripped of sword and strength;
When, oh — undreamt-of woe!
The Baron's wild moss-trooping train,
Who, roused at midnight's hour, had ta'en
Brief time to arm and follow,
Rode up with whoop and hollow!

Yet fear no ill to Hitter Carl!
Hark! Trah-raTi-rah! — he winds his horn,
And ten score men in mailed apparel
Sweep down through corn and thorn —
"So, Baron! — there! — How sayest thou now?
Ay! frown again with darker brow,
But these be my retainers,
These iron Wolfenhainers!

"Pause, ere thou leave true lovers lorn!
Remorse may wring thy soul too late!
Thy child and I long since have sworn
To share each other's fate! —
But, wilt thou part us — wilt thou brave
Thy daughter's curse when in her grave,
So be it! On!— I care not!
I, too, can slay and spare not!

"Yet hold! — one other course is thine,
A worthier course, a nobler choice —
Mayest blend thy daughter's weal with mine,
Mayest bid us both rejoice —
Give, Baron, give me Trudkin's hand!
Heaven's bounty gave me gold and land,
And Calumny can touch on
No blot in my escutcheon!"

Alas! poor Gertrude! Who can tell
Her agony of hope and fear,
As, like a knell, each full word fell
Upon her anxious ear?
She cast herself in tears to earth,
She wrang her hands till blood gushed forth, —
She tried each fond entreaty
To move her sire to pity.

"O, father, for the love of Heaven,
Have mercy on your child! Forgive,
Even as you look to be forgiven! —
A guilty fugitive
I am not! — If I fled from one
Whom still I cannot chuse but shun
As ruffian-like and hateful,
Oh, call me not ungrateful!

"Think, think how in my childhood's days
You used to take me on your knee,
And sing me old romantic lays,
Which yet are dear to me!
You called me then your hope, your pride;
Oh, father, cast not now aside
Those hallowed recollections!
Crush not your child's affections!"

Oh, mighty Nature! — how at last
Thou conquerest all of Adam's race! —
The Baron turned away and passed
One hand across his face —
He felt his eyes grow moist and dim,
And tears were such a shame in him,
Whose glory lay in steeling
His bosom against Feeling!

But, all in vain! — a thousand spears
Pierce in each word his daughter speaks
In vain! — the pent-up floods of years
Roll down the warrior's cheeks!
And now he raises up his child,
And kisses o'er and o'er her mild
Pale face of angel meekness!
With all a father's weakness!

"My child! I may have seemed severe —
Well, GOD forgive me— as I now
Forgive thee also freely here
All by past faults!— And thou,
My son, come hither!"— And the Knight
Obeyed, all wonder and delight —
"Since love bears no repressing,
Mayest have her, — with my blessing!

"Why carry to a vain excess
The enmities of Life's short span?
Forgiveness and Forgetfulness
Are what Man owes to Man.
What, though thy sire was long ray foe,
And wrought me Wrong — since he lies low
Where lie the Best and Bravest,
Peace to him in his clay-vest!

"Come! — all shall soon be well once more —
For, with our feuds, our cares will cease;
And Heaven has rich rewards in store
For those who cherish Peace.
Come, children I — this day ends our strife —
Clasp hands! — There! — May your path of life
Be henceforth strewn with roses!"
And here the ballad closes.