Excerpt: “A Book of Ballads from the German.”  
Translated by Percy Boyd, Esq.  1848.

Josef Karl Benedikt von Eichendorff: “The Priest and the Jacobin”

Excerpt, “The Spirit of German Poetry:  A Series of translations from the German Poets, with Critical and Biographical Notices.”   Translated by Joseph Gostick.  1845.

Translator’s Note: There is one ballad by Eichendorff, which has pleased us well by its picturesque scenery. The Jacobin Captain rests in a little churchyard in Britany. Raving in the fever of his wound, he confesses that he had burned his own father’s house. At night, he stands on the sea-shore and witnesses a strange spectacle. A priest comes over the quiet sea in a little shallop lit with tapers, and a congregation of worshippers come in their boats and perform their devotions on the waves, as they dare not worship in their church. The Jacobin Captain recognises his own father in the person of the priest, and, overcome with the amazement, falls and dies upon the shore.

The Priest and the Jacobin

.

The blooming hills of Britany

Were laved by gentle seas;

A little church stood peacefully

Between two ancient trees.

.

The corn-fields, and the green woods wide,

Were bright in sabbath’s glow;

But not a bell dare o’er the tide

Its solemn music throw.

.

For o’er the churchyard’s shady ground

The Frenchmen’s standard waves;

Their steeds are cropping, all around,

The daisies from the graves.

.

Upon the cross, in mockery,

Canteens and sabres hung;

Instead of solemn litany,

The “Marseillaise” was sung.

.

Sore wounded leaned the Captain there

Against an ancient tree,

And faintly look’d, with feverish stare,

On sultry land and sea;

.

And talk’d, as in a fever-dream

“Our castle by the lake—

I fired it !—what a fearful gleam!—

It burns for freedom’s sake!

.

“I see my father—through the rings

Of fire I see him there—

He stands upon the tower, and swings

His banner in the air!

.

“I see the standard catch the flame,

Again I see my sire,

As, holding still the shaft, he came

Down through the blazing fire!

.

“He looked at me, but nothing said—

I had no heart to slay—

The castle fell—my father fled—

He’s now a priest, they say!

.

“And since that night, in all my dreams

I hear the loud bells ring,

And see, amid the fiery streams,

The cross—that hated thing!

.

“But soon, no church-bell through the land

Shall break the still of night;

No cross upon the earth shall stand,

A sign of priestly might!

.

“And yonder lowly church-walls there

(We’ll tear them down to-night!)

Shall sound no more with psalms and prayer

—We come to let in light!”

.

“At night, when woods and waves were still,

And only when he spoke,

The sentinel upon the hill

The dreamy silence broke.

.

The Captain stood beside the sea—

A soft gray cloud arose,

Upon the waves—what can it be?—

And now it spreads and grows!

.

And see, amid the misty air,

A tiny twinkling light—

Some little star has fallen there,

Or lost its way to-night.

.

But see, along the quiet shore,

Where sleep the silent waves,

Dark moving figures, more and more,

Creep from the rocky caves;

.

And boats are push’d into the sea,

Row’d softly through the night;

The mark they steer for seems to be

That little twinkling light!

.

The light comes nearer now, afloat,

The rowers all have found it—

It is a little fisher-boat,

With tapers burning round it.

.

And see, within the shallop stands

An old man tall and gray,

With flowing hair and folded hands,

—A Priest in full array.

.

And round the floating altar, see,

The boatmen bow their heads:

The old Priest o’er the company

A solemn blessing sheds.

.

The sea was still, and every breeze—

In marvellous array,

Within their boats, on bended knees,

The congregation lay.

.

And now, the cross within his hand,

Amid the taper’s glare,

The Captain sees the old Priest stand—

” ‘Tis my old father there!”

.

Said he, as, with a sudden prayer,

He reel’d and fell and swoon’d,

While life’s blood o’er the shingle there

Was streaming from his wound.

.

The Jacobin soldiers on the shore

Came, found their Captain dead—

Then—death behind and death before,

Through all the land they fled.

.

Like wither’d leaves in autumn’s breeze,

They fled and pass’d away—

That little church between the trees

Is standing at this day!

THE WOMEN OF WEINSBERG

.

It was the good King Konrad with all his army lay

Before the town of Weinsberg full many a weary day;

The Guelph at last was vanquished, but still the town held out;

The bold and fearless burghers they fought with courage stout.

.

But then came hunger, hunger! That was a grievous guest;

They went to ask for favor, but anger met their quest.

"Through you the dust hath bitten full many a worthy knight,

And if your gates you open, the sword shall you requite!"

.

Then came the women, praying: "Let be as thou hast said,

Yet give us women quarter, for we no blood have shed!"

At sight of these poor wretches the hero's anger failed,

And soft compassion entered and in his heart prevailed.

.

"The women shall be pardoned, and each with her shall bear

As much as she can carry of her most precious ware;

The women with their burdens unhindered forth shall go,

Such is our royal judgment--we swear it shall be so!"

.

At early dawn next morning, ere yet the east was bright,

The soldiers saw advancing a strange and wondrous sight;

The gate swung slowly open, and from the vanquished town

Forth swayed a long procession of women weighted down;

.

For perched upon her shoulders each did her husband bear--

That was the thing most precious of all her household ware.

"We'll stop the treacherous women!" cried all with one intent;

The chancellor he shouted: "This was not what we meant!"

.

But when they told King Konrad, the good King laughed aloud;

"If this was not our meaning, they've made it so," he vowed,

"A promise is a promise, our loyal word was pledge;

It stands, and no Lord Chancellor may quibble or map hedge."

.

Thus was the royal scutcheon kept free from stain or blot!

The story has descended from days now half forgot;

'Twas eleven hundred and forty this happened, as I've heard,

The flower of German princes thought shame to break his word.

Death and Destruction they belched forth in vain,

We grimly defied their thunder;

Two columns of foot and batteries twain,

We rode and cleft them asunder.

With brandished sabres, with reins all slack,

Raised standards, and low-couched lances,

Thus we Uhlans and Cuirassiers wildly drove back,

And hotly repelled their advances.

But the ride was a ride of death and of blood;

With our thrusts we forced them to sever;

But of two whole regiments, lusty and good,

Out of two men, one rose never.

With breast shot through, with brow gaping wide,

They lay pale and cold in the valley,

Snatched away in their youth, in their manhood's pride--

Now, Trumpeter, sound to the rally!

And he took the trumpet, whose angry thrill

Urged us on to the glorious battle,

And he blew a blast--but all silent and still

Was the trump, save a dull hoarse rattle,

Save a voiceless wail, save a cry of woe,

That burst forth in fitful throbbing--

A bullet had pierced its metal through,

For the Dead the wounded was sobbing!

For the faithful, the brave, for our brethren all,

For the Watch on the Rhine, true-hearted!

Oh, the sound cut into our inmost soul!--

It brokenly wailed the Departed!

And now fell the night, and we galloped past,

Watch-fires were flaring and flying,

Our chargers snorted, the rain poured fast--

And we thought of the Dead and the Dying!

Ferdinand Freiligrath