Hildebrand the aged fierce on Kriemhild sprung: To the death he smote her as his sword he swung.

Sudden and remorseless he his wrath did wreak.

What could then avail her her fearful thrilling shriek?

There now the dreary corpses stretch'd all around were seen; There lay, hewn in pieces, the fair and n.o.ble queen.

Sir Dietrich and king Etzel, their tears began to start; For kinsmen and for va.s.sals each sorrow'd in his heart.

The mighty and the n.o.ble there lay together dead; For this had all the people dole and drearihead.

The feast of royal Etzel was thus shut up in woe.

Pain in the steps of Pleasure treads ever here below.

'Tis more than I can tell you what afterwards befell, Save that there was weeping for friends belov'd so well; Knights and squires, dames and damsels, were seen lamenting all, So here I end my story. This is THE NIBELUNGERS' FALL.

--Tr. by Littsom.

ROMANCES.

As elsewhere in Europe, the twelfth and thirteenth centuries in Germany produced numberless romances. These may be cla.s.sed under (1) Romances of Arthur, (2) Romances of the Holy Graal, (3) Romances of Antiquity, and (4) Romances of Love and Chivalry. The chief poets of romances were Hartmann von Aue, Gottfried von Stra.s.sburg, and Wolfram von Eschenbach. A good example of the romance of love is "Der Arme Heinrich of Hartmann von Aue". "Poor Henry", to quote Scherer, "is a kind of Job, a man of n.o.ble birth; rich, handsome, and beloved, who is suddenly visited by G.o.d with the terrible affliction of leprosy, and who can be cured only by the lifeblood of a young maiden who is willing to die for him. The daughter of a peasant, to whose house he has retired in his despair, resolves to sacrifice her life for him. Heinrich accepts her offer, and the knife to kill her is already whetted, when a better feeling arises in his breast, and he refuses to take upon himself the guilt of her death, resolving to resign himself to the will of G.o.d. This resignation saves him; he recovers and marries the maiden." Our extracts are from the first and last of the poem.

HENRY THE LEPER.

Ll. 1-131.--

Once on a time, rhymeth the rhyme, In Swabia land once on a time, There was a n.o.bleman so journeying, Unto whose n.o.bleness everything Of virtue and high-hearted excellence Worthy his line and his high pretense With plentiful measure was meted out: The land rejoiced in him round about.

He was like a prince in his governing-- In his wealth he was like a king; But most of all by the fame far-flown Of his great knightliness was he known, North and south, upon land and sea.

By his name he was Henry of the Lea.

All things whereby the truth grew dim Were held as hateful foes with him: By solemn oath was he bounden fast To shun them while his life should last.

In honour all his days went by: Therefore his soul might look up high To honorable authority.

A paragon of all graciousness, A blossoming branch of youthfulness, A looking-gla.s.s to the world around, A stainless and priceless diamond, Of gallant 'haviour a beautiful wreath, A home when the tyrant menaceth, A buckler to the breast of his friend, And courteous without measure or end; Whose deeds of arms 'twere long to tell; Of precious wisdom a limpid well, A singer of ladies every one, And very lordly to look upon In feature and hearing and countenance: Say, failed he in anything, perchance, The summit of all glory to gain.

And the lasting honour of all men.

Alack! the soul that was up so high Dropped down into pitiful misery; The lofty courage was stricken low, The steady triumph stumbled in woe, And the world-joy was hidden in the dust, Even as all such shall be and must.

He whose life in the senses centreth Is already in the shades of death.

The joys, called great, of this under-state Burn up the bosom early and late; And their shining is altogether vain, For it bringeth anguish and trouble and pain, The torch that flames for men to see And wasteth to ashes inwardly Is verily but an imaging Of man's own life, the piteous thing.

The whole is brittleness and mishap: We sit and dally in Fortune's lap Till tears break in our smiles betwixt, And the shallow honey-draught be mix'd With sorrow's wormwood fathom-deep.

Oh! rest not therefore, man, nor sleep: In the blossoming of thy flower-crown A sword is raised to smite thee down.

It was thus with Earl Henry, upon whom for his pride G.o.d sent a leprosy, as He did upon Job. But he did not bear his affliction as did Job.

Its duteousness his heart forgot; His pride waxed hard, and kept its place, But the glory departed from his face, And that which was his strength, grew weak.

The hand that smote him on the cheek Was all too heavy. It was night, Now, and his sun withdrew its light.

To the pride of his uplifted thought Much woe the weary knowledge brought That the pleasant way his feet did wend Was all pa.s.sed o'er and had an end.

The day wherein his years had begun Went in his mouth with a malison.

As the ill grew stronger and more strong,-- There was but hope bore him along; Even yet to hope he was full fain That gold might help him back again Thither whence G.o.d had cast him out.

Ah! weak to strive and little stout 'Gainst Heaven the strength that he possessed.

North and south and east and west, Far and wide from every side, Mediciners well proved and tried Came to him at the voice of his woe; But, mused and pondered they ever so, They could but say, for all their care, That he must be content to bear The burthen of the anger of G.o.d; For him there was no other road.

Already was his heart nigh down When yet to him one chance was shown; For in Salerno dwelt, folk said, A leach who still might lend him aid, Albeit unto his body's cure, All such had been as nought before.

Earl Henry visits the leach in Salerno whom he implores to tell him the means by which he may be healed.

Quoth the leach, "Then know them what they are; Yet still all hope must stand afar.

Truly if the cure for your care Might be gotten anyway anywhere, Did it hide in the furthest parts of earth, This-wise I had not sent you forth.

But all my knowledge hath none avail; There is but one thing would not fail: An innocent virgin for to find, Chaste, and modest, and pure in mind, Who to save you from death might choose Her own young body's life to lose; The heart's blood of the excellent maid-- That and nought else can be your aid.

But there is none will be won thereby For the love of another's life to die.

"'T was then poor Henry knew indeed That from his ill he might not be freed, Sith that no woman he might win Of her own will to act herein.

Thus got he but an ill return For the journey he made unto Salerne, And the hope he had upon that day Was s.n.a.t.c.hed from him and rent away.

Homeward he hied him back: fall fain With limbs in the dust he would have lain.

Of his substance--lands and riches both-- He rid himself; even as one doth Who the breath of the last life of his hope Once and forever hath rendered up.

To his friends he gave and to the poor, Unto G.o.d praying evermore The spirit that was in him to save, And make his bed soft in the grave.

What still remained aside he set For Holy Church's benefit.

Of all that heretofore was his Nought held he for himself, I wis, Save one small house with byre and field: There from the world he lived concealed,-- There lived he, and awaited Death, Who being awaited, lingereth.

Pity and ruth his troubles found Alway through all the country round.

Who heard him named, had sorrow deep And for his piteous sake would weep.

The poor man who tilled Earl Henry's field had a daughter, a sweet and tender maiden who, out of love for Henry and a heart of Christ-like pity, at last offers herself to die for him. After a struggle Henry accepts the sacrifice. But when he knows it is about to be made his heart rises against it and he refuses to permit it. At this the maiden is much grieved. She takes it as a token that she is not pure enough to be offered for him. She prays for a sign that she may hope to become wholly cleansed. In answer to this prayer Earl Henry is in one night cleansed of the leprosy. He then joyfully takes the maiden for his bride and leads her before his kinsman and n.o.bles for their consent.

"Then," quoth the Earl, "hearken me this.

The damozel who standeth here,-- And whom I embrace, being most dear,-- She it is unto whom I owe The grace it hath pleased G.o.d to bestow.

He saw the simple spirited Earnestness of the holy maid, And even in guerdon of her truth Gave me back the joys of my youth, Which seemed to be lost beyond all doubt, And therefore I have chosen her out To wed with me knowing her free.

I think that G.o.d will let this be.

Lo! I enjoin ye, with G.o.d's will That this my longing ye fulfill.

I pray ye all have but one voice And let your choice go with my choice."

Then the cries ceased, and the counter-cries, And all the battle of advice, And every lord, being content With Henry's choice, granted a.s.sent.

Then the priests came to bind as one Two lives in bridal unison, Into his hand they folded hers, Not to be loosed in coming years, And uttered between man and wife G.o.d's blessing on the road of this life.

Many a bright and pleasant day The twain pursued their steadfast way, Till hand in hand, at length they trod Upward to the kingdom of G.o.d.

Even as it was with them, even thus, And quickly, it must be with us.

To such reward as theirs was then, G.o.d help us in His hour. Amen.

-- Tr. by Rossetti.

THE MINNESINGERS.

In the twelfth century, Germany had a remarkable outburst of lyric poetry, chiefly songs of love. The influence of the crusades, the spread of the romances of Arthur and Charlemagne roused over all Germany the spirit of poetry. The poets of this new movement are called Minnesingers. It is interesting to notice that the same poets who wrote these love lyrics, wrote also long romances of chivalry; the greatest names among them being Hartmann von Aue, Wolfram von Eschenbach, Heinrich von Ofterdingen, Gottfried von Stra.s.sburg, and Walther von der Vogelweide. They were of all ranks, but chiefly belonged to the upper cla.s.ses--knights, squires, princes, and even kings being numbered among them. Their extraordinarily large number may be gathered from the fact that from the twelfth century alone the names of one hundred and sixty Minnesingers have come down to us.

Their names and their songs have been handed down largely by tradition, since the ma.s.s of them could neither read nor write, and for a century or more their work was preserved orally.

The subject of these songs was almost always love--generally love of a sweetheart; sometimes of the simpler aspects of nature, sometimes the love of the Virgin. Besides this they wrote also many didactic, religious, and patriotic songs. The rhythmical and metrical structure of their verse was very complicated and generally very skillful, sometimes, however, running into eccentricities and barren technicalities. The Minnesinger generally composed the music of his song at the same time with the verse.

The bloom of the Minnesong pa.s.sed away in the latter half of the thirteenth century. The songs became theological, didactic, political, more and more forced and complicated in form, more and more filled with quaint new figures, far-fetched conceits, and obscure allusions. Then gradually developed the school of the Meistersingers, who formed themselves into a guild of poets to which only those were admitted who pa.s.sed examination upon the difficult technical rules that had been built up. The poetry of the Meistersinigers was, for the most part, tedious and artificial. The poets were not n.o.bles and soldiers, but burghers and artisans. They reached their highest development in the sixteenth century. The most famous of them was Hans Sachs (1494-1575), who, in the s.p.a.ce of fifty-three years, wrote 6181 pieces of verse.

DIETMAR VON AIST. Twelfth Century.

By the heath stood a lady All lonely and fair; As she watched for her lover, A falcon flew near.

"Happy falcon!" she cried "Who can fly where he list, And can choose in the forest The tree he loves best!