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Translated by Alfred Baskerville
THE HORSEMAN rides in the valley’s glow, | |
| The sunbeam glistens on fields of snow, | |
| The sweat-drop falls as he speeds to gain | |
| The lake of Constance ere day doth wane, | |
| To pass with his steed in the ferry o’er, | 5 |
| And land ere night on the further shore. | |
| On rugged path, with mettlesome steed, | |
| O’er brambles and stones he gains the mead. | |
| The mountains quitted he sees the land | |
| Extend like a snow-white sheet of sand, | 10 |
| Behind him town and hamlet wane, | |
| And smooth is the path of the level plain. | |
| Not a hill around, not a house he sees, | |
| The rocks have vanished, no shrubs nor trees; | |
| A league hath he won, a second, a third, | 15 |
| Aloft is the cry of the solan-goose heard, | |
| The water-hen soars on rustling wing, | |
| No other sounds through the stillness ring; | |
| No wanderer can his eye behold | |
| To point out the path his steps should hold. | 20 |
| On, on, as on velvet, o’er yielding snow! | |
| “O, when will the murmuring waters glow?” | |
| The day hath waned, through the gloom of night | |
| In the distance glimmers a taper’s light. | |
| Mid the fog peers tree upon tree anew, | 25 |
| Dark mountains limit the distant view. | |
| Again over stone and thorn he rides, | |
| Then digs his spurs in the horse’s sides, | |
| The dogs at the steed and his rider bay, | |
| The village hearth glows with inviting ray. | 30 |
| “O, welcome, fair maid, at the window; say, | |
| To the lake, to the lake, how far, I pray?” | |
| The maiden gazed with wondering eye, | |
| “Both ferry and lake behind thee lie. | |
| And were it not bound by its icy crust, | 35 |
| I should say thou hadst quitted the boat but just.” | |
| The stranger shuddered in dread suspense, | |
| “Yon plain behind, I have ridden thence!” | |
| The maiden uplifted her arms and spake, | |
| “Great God! thou hast ridden across the lake: | 40 |
| The hoofs of thy steed have knocked at the grave, | |
| In the gulf of death, the fathomless wave; | |
| Did the billows beneath thee not vent their wrath? | |
| Broke not with a crash thy icy path? | |
| Thou wert not the prey of the silent brood, | 45 |
| Of the ravenous pike, in the chilly flood?” | |
| She calls forth the village the tale to hear, | |
| The gathering groups of boys draw near; | |
| The dames and the sires crowd round the spot: | |
| “Rejoice, O fortunate man, at thy lot! | 50 |
| Come in to the stove, to the steaming dish, | |
| Break bread at our board and eat of our fish!” | |
| The rider transfixed upon his steed, | |
| Unto the first word alone gave heed. | |
| His heart stood still, and on end his hair, | 55 |
| The horrors behind him still grimly stare; | |
| His eye sees naught but the gulf profound, | |
| His mind sinks down to the deep, deep ground; | |
| Like rending ice in his ear it roars, | |
| From his brow in torrents the cold sweat pours. | 60 |
| He sighs, falls from his steed to the ground; | |
| A grave on the shore of the lake he found. | |
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