C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.
The Knight Toggenburg
By Friedrich von Schiller (1759–1805)
“K
Gives my heart to thee!
Ask me not for other love,
For it paineth me!
Calmly couldst thou greet me now,
Calmly from me go;
Calmly ever,—why dost thou
Weep in silence so?”
To the heart she wrung,
Sadly clasped he once the maid,
On his steed he sprung!
“Up, my men of Switzerland!”
Up, awake the brave!
Forth they go—the Red-Cross band—
To the Savior’s grave!
Heroes of the tomb!
Glancing through the carnage came
Many a dauntless plume.
Terror of the Moorish foe,
Toggenburg, thou art!
But thy heart is heavy! oh,
Heavy is thy heart!
For a twelvemonth bore;
Never can his trouble rest!
And he left the shore.
Lo! a ship on Joppa’s strand,
Breeze and billow fair,—
On to that belovèd land
Where she breathes the air!
Was the pilgrim heard;
Woe the answer from the grate!
Woe the thunder-word!
“She thou seekest lives—a Nun!
To the world she died
When, with yester-morning’s sun,
Heaven received a Bride!”
Ne’er his home may be;
Helm and hauberk, steed and all,
Evermore left he!
Where his castle-crownèd height
Frowns the valley down,
Dwells unknown the hermit knight,
In a sackcloth gown.
Where his eyes may view
Wall and cloister glisten fair
Dusky lindens through.
There when dawn was in the skies,
Till the eve-star shone,
Sate he with mute wistful eyes,
Sate he there—alone!
Looking forth afar,
Looking to her lattice till
Clinked the lattice bar.
Till—a passing glimpse allowed—
Paused her image pale,
Calm and angel-mild, and bowed
Meekly towards the vale.
Then, consoled awhile,
Down he lay, to greet once more
Morning’s early smile.
Days and years are gone, and still
Looks he forth afar,
Uncomplaining, hoping—till
Clinks the lattice bar;
Paused her image pale,
Calm and angel-mild, and bowed
Meekly towards the vale.
So upon that lonely spot
Sate he, dead at last,
With the look where life was not,
Towards the casement cast.