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Translated by H. W. Dulcken
YE!—ye, there, in the world without, | |
| Lift not your heads so grand! | |
| Men hath it borne, and heroes stout, | |
| Alike for peace or battle-rout,— | |
| Our gallant Swabian land! | 5 |
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| Boast of your Edward, Frederic, Charles, | |
| And Ludwig as ye might, | |
| Charles, Frederic, Ludwig, Edward too, | |
| Was Eberhard, our count so true,— | |
| A tempest in the fight. | 10 |
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| The county’s boy, young Ulric, too, | |
| Loved well the iron clang; | |
| The county’s boy, young Ulric, too, | |
| No footfall backward ever drew, | |
| Where men to saddle sprang. | 15 |
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| The Reutlingers brewed vengeance-pain | |
| To see our names so bright; | |
| And strove the victor’s wreath to gain, | |
| And many a sword-dance dared maintain, | |
| And drew their girdles tight. | 20 |
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| He gave them war,—beshrew the fight | |
| Whence beaten home he came! | |
| The father’s brow was black as night,— | |
| The youthful warrior fled the light, | |
| And wept for very shame. | 25 |
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| That galled him: “Ah, ye knaves, beware!” | |
| (And kept it in his soul)— | |
| “Now by my father’s beard I swear | |
| To grind the notch my sword doth bear | |
| On many a townsman’s poll!” | 30 |
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| Nor long the time ere rose a feud: | |
| Forth sallied horse and man; | |
| Toward Döffingen the army stood, | |
| And brighter grew the younker’s mood, | |
| And hot the fight began. | 35 |
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| The watchword to our men that day | |
| Was given—“the ill-starred fight”— | |
| That drove us like the storm away, | |
| And lodged us deep in bloody fray, | |
| And in the lances’ night. | 40 |
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| Our youthful count, with lion’s wrath, | |
| Swung high his hero-glaive; | |
| Wild battle-roar before his path, | |
| Wailing and groans his feet beneath, | |
| And all around—the grave. | 45 |
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| But woe! ah, woe! a ghastly sword | |
| Fell heavy on his head; | |
| The hero-band surround their lord | |
| In vain; young Ulric on the sward | |
| With glassy eyes lay dead. | 50 |
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| Then horror stayed the battle’s plan, | |
| Tears from all eyes ’gan flow; | |
| But ho!—the count to charge began,— | |
| “My son is as another man; | |
| March, children, on the foe!” | 55 |
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| And fiercer rageth now the fight, | |
| For vengeance spurs them well; | |
| Forth o’er the corpses went their might, | |
| And townsmen flying left and right | |
| O’er forest, hill, and dell. | 60 |
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| And blithely all our clarions rang | |
| When to our camp hied we; | |
| And wives and children gayly sang, | |
| Mid dances’ whirl and beaker-clang, | |
| To praise our victory. | 65 |
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| But Eberhard, what doth he here? | |
| Before him lies his son; | |
| Within his tent, no mortal near, | |
| The count hath dropt one sparkling tear | |
| That silent form upon. | 70 |
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| Therefore, with love so true and warm, | |
| Around the count we stand; | |
| Alone, he is a hero-swarm,— | |
| The thunder rageth in his arm,— | |
| The star of Swabian land. | 75 |
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| Then, ye there in the world without, | |
| Lift not your heads so grand! | |
| Men hath it borne, and heroes stout, | |
| Alike in peace and battle-rout, | |
| Our gallant Swabian land. | 80 |
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