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Translated by K. Freiligrath-Kroeker
HIGH stood I on the Drachenfels, | |
| I bit my lip, my eye flashed proudly, | |
| From cliff and crag with joyous yells | |
| My pointer roused glad echoes loudly; | |
| He flew before, he leapt, he ran, | 5 |
| As though some game he were pursuing, | |
| But I looked forth, a joyful man, | |
| The scene beneath me lost in viewing. | |
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| In luscious glory of its vine | |
| Of purple and of yellow cluster, | 10 |
| I saw the Valley of the Rhine | |
| Arch, like a goblet green of lustre; | |
| A chalice rare!—Tradition dreams | |
| Upon its brink on ruins hoary; | |
| The wine that in the goblet beams,— | 15 |
| Love and romance, renowned in story! | |
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| Lo! how it sparkles! joust and fight! | |
| Cheeks glow and flush, and hearts beat madly, | |
| Helmet and casque are flashing bright, | |
| And fresh fair wounds are trickling gladly; | 20 |
| While on yon turret pensive stands | |
| To whom are lowered lance and crest;— | |
| Wherefore am I thus strangely moved? | |
| What sweet foreboding thrills my breast? | |
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