Moritz Graf von Strachwitz: “Mine Ancient Steed”

Excerpt, “Translations From The German Poets.” Edward Stanhope Pearson. 1879.

MINE ANCIENT STEED

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My ancient steed,

My friend at need,

Why neigh’st thou with wistful glance?

Thy old sinews are wrung,

And my soul is unstrung,

Forth with me no more thou shalt prance.

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Thou shakest thou head,

Snort’st with nostril red,

To dreams, comrade mine, thou’st gone back;

Together we fly

O’er the hill top high,

Along the old well-loved track.

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Thou pawest before

The grating door,

Snowy foam-drops thy curb-bit fleck;

A rustling dress,

A white hand’s caress

As it pats thy sleek shining neck.

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The gravel flies,

Sleep seal thine eyes!

Away, into cerulean night!

O’er the dewy sward

In moonlight broad

We scud with might, with might.

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With loosened rein,

A dream in my brain,

On my lips the last kiss yet thrills;

Hoofs thud as they fall,

And quails that call,

And distant murmuring rills.

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The night-winds sweep,

The moon bathes deep

In the silver waves of the corn;

Red poppies gleam

And like sighs in a dream

Whispers the weird hawthorn.

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Just a backward gaze,

With eyes adaze

At the loved house slumbering fast;

My brave old lad,

How sad, how sad

That all our joy there is past!

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My comrade bold,

The dear path of old,

With snow is wreathen o’er;

Ruined lies the gate,

For my bride I’m too late,

And my heart so sore, so sore!