Two gilded fishes in the lake This morning have I caught, Their silver scales may much avail, Their carrion flesh is naught."

It was a messenger of woe
Has sought the Austrian land:
"Ah! gracious lady, evil news!
My lord lies on the strand.

"At Sempach, on the battle-field,

His bloody corpse lies there.""Ah, gracious God!" the lady cried, "What tidings of despair!"

Now would you know the minstrel wight
Who sings of strife so stern,
Albert the Souter is he hight,
A burgher of Lucerne.

A merry man was he, I wot,
The night he made the lay,
Returning from the bloody spot,
Where God had judged the day.

The Noble Moringer.

AN ANCIENT BALLAD.

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN.

[1819.']

THE original of these verses occurs in a collection of German popular songs, entitled, Sammlung Deutschen Volkslieder, Berlin, 1807, published by Messrs. Busching and Von der Hagen, both, and more especially the last, distinguished for their acquaintance with the ancient popular poetry and legendary history of Germany.

was, by birth, of the house of Moringer. This lady he supposes to have been Moringer's daughter, mentioned in the ballad. He quotes the same authority for the death of Berckhold Von Neuffen, in the same year. The editors, on the whole, seem to embrace the opinion of Professor Smith of Ulm, who, from the language of the ballad, ascribes its date to the 15th century.

The legend itself turns on an incident not peculiar to Germany, and which, perhaps, was not unlikely to happen in more instances than one, when crusaders abode long in the Holy Land, and their disconsolate dames received no tidings of their fate. A story, very similar in circumstances, but without the miraculous machinery of Saint Thomas, is told of one of the ancient Lords of Haigh-hall in Lancashire, the patrimonial inheritance of the late Countess of Balcarras; and the particulars are represented on stained glass upon a window in that ancient manor-house.

THE NOBLE MORINGER.

I.

O, WILL you hear a knightly tale of old Bohemian day,

It was the noble Moringer in wedlock bed he lay;
He halsed and kiss'd his dearest dame, that was as
sweet as May,

And said, "Now, lady of my heart, attend the words
I say.

II.

""Tis I have vow'd a pilgrimage unto a distant shrine, And I must seek Saint Thomas-land, and leave the land that 's mine;

Here shalt thou dwell the while in state, so thou wit pledge thy fay,

That thou for my return wilt wait seven twelvemonths and a day."

III.

Then out and spoke that Lady bright, sore troubled in her cheer,

"Now tell me true, thou noble knight, what order takest thou here;

And

who shall lead thy vassal band, and hold thy lordly sway,

And be thy lady's guardian true when thou art far away?"

In the German Editor's notice of the ballad, it is stated to have been extracted from a manuscript | Chronicle of Nicolaus Thomann, chaplain to Saint Leonard in Weisenhorn, which bears the date 1533; and the song is stated by the author to have been generally sung in the neighbourhood at that early period. Thomann, as quoted by the German Editor, seems faithfully to have believed the event he narrates. He quotes tombstones and obituaries to prove Out spoke the noble Moringer, "Of that have thou the existence of the personages of the ballad, and discovers that there actually died, on the 11th May 1349, a Lady Von Neuffen, Countess of Marstetten, who

no care,

IV.

There's many a valiant gentleman of me holds living fair;

1 The translation of the Noble Moringer appeared origi- tervals of exquisite pain, to his daughter Sophia, and his friend nally in the Edinburgh Annual Register for 1816, (published | William Laidlaw.-ED. See Life of Scott, vol. vi., p. 71. in 1819.) It was composed during Sir Walter Scott's severe 2 See Introduction to "The Betrothed," Waverley Novels. and alarming illness of April, 1819, and dictated, in the in- vol. xxxvii.

The trustiest shall rule my land, my vassals and my And pledge thee for my Lady's faith till seven long state, years are gone, And be a guardian tried and true to thee, my lovely And guard her as Our Lady dear was guarded by Saint John."

mate.

"As Christian-man, I needs must keep the vow which Marstetten's heir was kind and true, but fiery, hot, I have plight, and young, When I am far in foreign land, remember thy true And readily he answer made with too presumptuous knight;

And cease, my dearest dame, to grieve, for vain were sorrow now,

tongue;

"My noble lord, cast care away, and on your journey wend,

But grant thy Moringer his leave, since God hath And trust this charge to me until your pilgrimage heard his vow."

have end.

It was the noble Moringer from bed he made him" Rely upon my plighted faith, which shall be truly boune, tried, And met him there his Chamberlain, with ewer and To guard your lands, and ward your towers, and with with gown: your vassals ride; He flung the mantle on his back, 'twas furr'd with And for your lovely Lady's faith, so virtuous and so miniver, dear, He dipp'd his hand in water cold, and bathed his I'll gage my head it knows no change, be absent thirty forehead fair.

year."

"Now hear," he said, "Sir Chamberlain, true vassal The noble Moringer took cheer when thus he heard art thou mine, him speak, And such the trust that I repose in that proved worth And doubt forsook his troubled brow, and sorrow left of thine, his cheek; For seven years shalt thou rule my towers, and lead A long adieu he bids to all-hoists topsails, and away, my vassal train, And wanders in Saint Thomas-land seven twelve

And pledge thee for my Lady's faith till I return again."

VIII.

months and a day.

XIV.

It was the noble Moringer within an orchard slept,

The Chamberlain was blunt and true, and sturdily When on the Baron's slumbering sense a boding vision said he,

crept;

"Abide, my lord, and rule your own, and take this And whisper'd in his ear a voice, ""Tis time, Sir rede from me;

Knight, to wake,

That woman's faith 's a brittle trust--Seven twelve- Thy lady and thy heritage another master take.

months didst thou say?

I'll pledge me for no lady's truth beyond the seventh fair day."

IX.

The noble Baron turn'd him round, his heart was full of care,

His gallant Esquire stood him nigh, he was Marstetten's heir,

To whom he spoke right anxiously, "Thou trusty squire to me,

Wilt thou receive this weighty trust when I am o'er

the sea?

X.

XV.

"Thy tower another banner knows, thy steeds another rein,

And stoop them to another's will thy gallant vassal train;

And she, the Lady of thy love, so faithful once and fair,

This night within thy fathers' hall she weds Marstetten's heir."

XVI.

It is the noble Moringer starts up and tears his beard, "Oh would that I had ne'er been born! what tidings have I heard!

"To watch and ward my castle strong, and to protect To lose my lordship and my lands the less would be my land,

my care,

And to the hunting or the host to lead my vassal But, God! that e'er a squire untrue should wed my Lady fair.

band;

"O good Saint Thomas, hear," he pray'd, "my patron It was the noble Moringer to climb the hill be Saint art thou,

gan,

man;

A traitor robs me of my land even while I pay my And stood before the bolted gate a woe and weary
Vow!
My wife he brings to infamy that was so pure of" Now help me, every saint in heaven that can com-
passion take,

name,

And I am far in foreign land, and must endure the To gain the entrance of my hall this woful match to
shame."
break."

It was the good Saint Thomas, then, who heard his His very knock it sounded sad, his call was sad and
pilgrim's prayer,
slow,
And sent a sleep so deep and dead that it o'erpower'd For heart and head, and voice and hand, were heavy
his care;
all with woe;
He waked in fair Bohemian land outstretch'd beside And to the warder thus he spoke; "Friend, to thy
a rill,
High on the right a castle stood, low on the left a A pilgrim from Saint Thomas-land craves harbour
mill.
for a day.

XIX.

Lady say,

XXV.

The Moringer he started up as one from spell un- "I've wander'd many a weary step, my strength is
bound,
wellnigh done,
And dizzy with surprise and joy gazed wildly all And if she turn me from her gate I'll see no morrow's
around;
sun;
"I know my fathers' ancient towers, the mill, the I pray, for sweet Saint Thomas' sake, a pilgrim's bed
stream I know,
and dole,
Now blessed be my patron Saint who cheer'd his And for the sake of Moringer's, her once-loved hus-
pilgrim's woe!
band's soul."

He leant upon his pilgrim staff, and to the mill he It was the stalwart warder then he came his dame drew,

So alter'd was his goodly form that none their master knew;

before,

"A pilgrim, worn and travel-toil'd, stands at the
castle-door;

The Baron to the miller said, "Good friend, for And prays, for sweet Saint Thomas' sake, for harbour
charity,
and for dole,
Tell a poor palmer in your land what tidings may And for the sake of Moringer, thy noble husband's
there be?"

soul."

The miller answered him again," He knew of little The Lady's gentle heart was moved, "Do up the
news,
gate," she said,
Save that the Lady of the land did a new bridegroom" And bid the wanderer welcome be to banquet and
choose;
to bed;
Her husband died in distant land, such is the constant And since he names my husband's name, so that he
word,
lists to stay,
His death sits heavy on our souls, he was a worthy These towers shall be his harbourage a twelvemonth
Lord.
and a day."

"Of him I held the little mill which wins me living It was the stalwart warder then undid the portal
free,
broad,
God rest the Baron in his grave, he still was kind to It was the noble Moringer that o'er the threshold
me!
strode;
And when Saint Martin's tide comes round, and "And have thou thanks, kind heaven," he said,
millers take their toll,
"though from a man of sin,

The priest that prays for Moringer shall have both That the true lord stands here once more his castle.
cope and stole."

gate within."

D

It was the noble Moringer that dropp'd amid the wine He kneel'd before the Moringer, and down his wca

My daughter now hath fifteen years, fame speaks her And many a fine flower shall she pluck for my boy." sweet and fair,

I give her for the bride you lose, and name her for "O, father, my father, and did you not hear my heir.

XLIII.

"The young bridegroom hath youthful bride, the old bridegroom the old,

The Erl-King whisper so low in my ear?”—
"Be still, my heart's darling-my child, be at ease;
It was but the wild blast as it sung thro' the trees.”
Erl-King.

Whose faith was kept till term and tide so punctually "O wilt thou go with me, thou loveliest boy!
were told;
My daughter shall tend thee with care and with joy;
But blessings on the warder kind that oped my She shall bear thee so lightly thro' wet and thro' wild,