| |
| ON a wooded comely mount | |
| Stands the Plesse old and gray; | |
| Proudly rise the lonely towers | |
| In the landscape far away. | |
| |
| ’T was a hot and haughty line,— | 5 |
| Three hundred years ’t is dead,— | |
| Robber barons stern and bold, | |
| From the earth their name is fled. | |
| |
| Save that these two ruined towers, | |
| Grim memorials of the past, | 10 |
| Stand yet in gloomy pride | |
| On the mountain strong and fast. | |
| |
| How these barons robbed the merchants | |
| Of peaceful Göttingen near by!— | |
| How the bauerfolk were pressed, | 15 |
| When bend they must or die! | |
| |
| Till at last the outraged merchants | |
| And the patient bauerfolk | |
| Stormed old Plesse in his castle | |
| And broke their galling yoke: | 20 |
| |
| Hanged the baron from his tower, | |
| Put the firebrand to the rest, | |
| Tumbled down his walls and prisons, | |
| Rooted out the robber-nest. | |
| |
| But the Lady Maria Plesse | 25 |
| Was the true wife of her lord; | |
| Rather death a thousand times | |
| Than capture by this horde. | |
| |
| Quick, quick, to horse and fly! | |
| Press thy infant to thy breast, | 30 |
| Off to Hardenburg with speed, | |
| Give thy faithful beast no rest. | |
| |
| But see, alas! on every hand | |
| The road with arméd men beset; | |
| Now, lady, now thy courage prove, | 35 |
| As never woman’s has been yet! | |
| |
| She looks in wrath, but not despair, | |
| Upon the conquering host, | |
| Her wild heart leaps into her eyes,— | |
| She sees Lord Plesse lost. | 40 |
| |
| She glances round her sharp and firm, | |
| And reins her neighing steed | |
| Towards the lofty precipice: | |
| Then comes a daring deed. | |
| |
| With whip and spur and cheering word | 45 |
| Her shrinking courser nears | |
| The frowning depth, and piteous neighs, | |
| Expressive of his fears. | |
| |
| But noble blood is in his veins, | |
| He springs into the air,— | 50 |
| Aghast the struggling warriors pause, | |
| And pray a silent prayer. | |
| |
| Full thirty feet they thunder down, | |
| Mother, child, and horse; | |
| And crowded faces peer below | 55 |
| To gaze upon the corse. | |
| |
| Hurrah! hurrah! from many a throat, | |
| The deed is nobly done; | |
| Maria has her infant saved, | |
| And Plesse’s heir is won. | 60 |
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