In the Saddle: A Collection of Poems on Horseback-Riding

IRMINGARD'S ESCAPE

I am the Lady Irmingard,Born of a noble race and name!Many a wandering Suabian bard,Whose life was dreary and bleak and hard,Has found through me the way to fame.Brief and bright were those days, and the nightWhich followed was full of a lurid light.Love, that of every woman's heartWill have the whole, and not a part,That is to her, in Nature's plan,More than ambition is to man,Her light, her life, her very breath,With no alternative but death,Found me a maiden soft and young,Just from the convent's cloistered school,And seated on my lowly stool,Attentive while the minstrels sung.Gallant, graceful, gentle, tall,Fairest, noblest, best of all,Was Walter of the Vogelweid;And, whatsoever may betide,Still I think of him with pride!His song was of the summer-time,The very birds sang in his rhyme;The sunshine, the delicious air,The fragrance of the flowers, were there;And I grew restless as I heard,Restless and buoyant as a bird,Down soft, aerial currents sailing,O'er blossomed orchards, and fields in bloom,And through the momentary gloomOf shadows o'er the landscape trailing,Yielding and borne I knew not where,But feeling resistance unavailing.And thus, unnoticed and apart,And more by accident than choice,I listened to that single voiceUntil the chambers of my heartWere filled with it by night and day.One night – it was a night in May, —Within the garden, unawares,Under the blossoms in the gloom,I heard it utter my own nameWith protestations and wild prayers;And it rang through me, and becameLike the archangel's trump of doom,Which the soul hears, and must obey;And mine arose as from a tomb.My former life now seemed to meSuch as hereafter death may be,When in the great EternityWe shall awake and find it day.It was a dream, and would not stay;A dream, that in a single nightFaded and vanished out of sight.My father's anger followed fastThis passion, as a freshening blastSeeks out and fans the fire, whose rageIt may increase, but not assuage.And he exclaimed: "No wandering bardShall win thy hand, O Irmingard!For which Prince Henry of HoheneckBy messenger and letter sues."Gently, but firmly, I replied:"Henry of Hoheneck I discard!Never the hand of IrmingardShall lie in his as the hand of a bride!"This said I, Walter, for thy sake;This said I, for I could not choose.After a pause, my father spakeIn that cold and deliberate toneWhich turns the hearer into stone,And seems itself the act to beThat follows with such dread certainty;"This, or the cloister and the veil!"No other words than these he said,But they were like a funeral wail;My life was ended, my heart was dead.That night from the castle-gate went down,With silent, slow, and stealthy pace,Two shadows, mounted on shadowy steeds,Taking the narrow path that leadsInto the forest dense and brown.In the leafy darkness of the place,One could not distinguish form nor face,Only a bulk without a shape,A darker shadow in the shade;One scarce could say it moved or stayed.Thus it was we made our escape!A foaming brook, with many a bound,Followed us like a playful hound;Then leaped before us, and in the hollowPaused, and waited for us to follow,And seemed impatient, and afraidThat our tardy flight should be betrayedBy the sound our horses' hoof-beats made.And when we reached the plain below,We paused a moment and drew reinTo look back at the castle again;And we saw the windows all aglowWith lights, that were passing to and fro;Our hearts with terror ceased to beat;The brook crept silent to our feet;We knew what most we feared to know.Then suddenly horns began to blow;And we heard a shout, and a heavy tramp,And our horses snorted in the dampNight-air of the meadows green and wide,And in a moment, side by side,So close, they must have seemed but one,The shadows across the moonlight run,And another came, and swept behind,Like the shadow of clouds before the wind!How I remember that breathless flightAcross the moors, in the summer night!How under our feet the long, white roadBackward like a river flowed,Sweeping with it fences and hedges,Whilst farther away, and overhead,Paler than I, with fear and dread,The moon fled with us, as we fledAlong the forest's jagged edges!All this I can remember well;But of what afterwards befellI nothing further can recallThan a blind, desperate, headlong fall;The rest is a blank and darkness all.When I awoke out of this swoon,The sun was shining, not the moon,Making a cross upon the wallWith the bars of my windows narrow and tall;And I prayed to it, as I had been wont to pray,From early childhood, day by day,Each morning, as in bed I lay!I was lying again in my own room!And I thanked God, in my fever and pain,That those shadows on the midnight plainWere gone, and could not come again!I struggled no longer with my doom!Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

WILLIAM AND HELEN

From heavy dreams fair Helen rose,And eyed the dawning red:"Alas, my love, thou tarriest long!O art thou false or dead?" —With gallant Fred'rick's princely powerHe sought the bold Crusade;But not a word from Judah's warsTold Helen how he sped.With Paynim and with SaracenAt length a truce was made,And every knight returned to dryThe tears his love had shed.Our gallant host was homeward boundWith many a song of joy;Green waved the laurel in each plume,The badge of victory.And old and young, and sire and son,To meet them crowd the way,With shouts and mirth and melody,The debt of love to pay.Full many a maid her true-love met,And sobbed in his embrace,And fluttering joy in tears and smilesArrayed full many a face.Nor joy nor smile for Helen sad;She sought the host in vain;For none could tell her William's fate,If faithless, or if slain.The martial band is past and gone;She rends her raven hair,And in distraction's bitter moodShe weeps with wild despair."O rise, my child," her mother said,"Nor sorrow thus in vain;A perjured lover's fleeting heartNo tears recall again." —"O mother, what is gone, is gone,What's lost forever lorn;Death, death alone can comfort me;O had I ne'er been born!"O break, my heart, – O break at once!Drink my life-blood, Despair!No joy remains on earth for me,For me in heaven no share." —"O enter not in judgment, Lord!"The pious mother prays;"Impute not guilt to thy frail child!She knows not what she says."O say thy pater noster, child!O turn to God and grace!His will, that turned thy bliss to bale,Can change thy bale to bliss." —"O mother, mother, what is bliss?O mother, what is bale?My William's love was heaven on earth,Without it earth is hell."Why should I pray to ruthless Heaven,Since my loved William's slain?I only prayed for William's sake,And all my prayers were vain." —"O take the sacrament, my child,And check these tears that flow;By resignation's humble prayer,O hallowed be thy woe!" —"No sacrament can quench this fire,Or slake this scorching pain;No sacrament can bid the deadArise and live again."O break, my heart, – O break at once!Be thou my god, Despair!Heaven's heaviest blow has fallen on me,And vain each fruitless prayer." —"O enter not in judgment, Lord,With thy frail child of clay!She knows not what her tongue has spoke;Impute it not, I pray!"Forbear, my child, this desperate woe,And turn to God and grace;Well can devotion's heavenly glowConvert thy bale to bliss." —"O mother, mother, what is bliss?O mother, what is bale?Without my William what were heaven,Or with him what were hell?" —Wild she arraigns the eternal doom,Upbraids each sacred power,Till, spent, she sought her silent room,All in the lonely tower.She beat her breast, she wrung her hands,Till sun and day were o'er,And through the glimmering lattice shoneThe twinkling of the star.Then, crash! the heavy drawbridge fellThat o'er the moat was hung;And, clatter! clatter! on its boardsThe hoof of courser rung.The clank of echoing steel was heardAs off the rider bounded;And slowly on the winding stairA heavy footstep sounded.And hark! and hark! a knock – Tap! tap!A rustling stifled noise; —Door-latch and tinkling staples ring; —At length a whispering voice."Awake, awake, arise, my love!How, Helen, dost thou fare?Wakest thou, or sleepest? laughest thou, or weepest?Hast thought on me, my fair?" —"My love! my love! – so late by night! —I waked, I wept for thee:Much have I borne since dawn of morn;Where, William, couldst thou be!" —"We saddle late – from HungaryI rode since darkness fell;And to its bourne we both returnBefore the matin-bell." —"O rest this night within my arms,And warm thee in their fold!Chill howls through hawthorn bush the wind: —My love is deadly cold." —"Let the wind howl through hawthorn bush!This night we must away;The steed is wight, the spur is bright;I cannot stay till day."Busk, busk, and boune!1 Thou mount'st behindUpon my black barb steed:O'er stock and stile, a hundred miles,We haste to bridal bed." —"To-night – to-night a hundred miles! —O dearest William, stay!The bell strikes twelve – dark, dismal hour?O wait, my love, till day!" —"Look here, look here – the moon shines clear —Full fast I ween we ride;Mount and away! for ere the dayWe reach our bridal bed."The black barb snorts, the bridle rings;Haste, busk, and boune, and seat thee!The feast is made, the chamber spread,The bridal guests await thee." —Strong love prevailed: she busks, she bounes,She mounts the barb behind,And round her darling William's waistHer lily arms she twines.And, hurry! hurry! off they rode,As fast as fast might be;Spurned from the courser's thundering heelsThe flashing pebbles flee.And on the right, and on the left,Ere they could snatch a view,Fast, fast each mountain, mead, and plain,And cot, and castle, flew."Sit fast – dost fear? – The moon shines clear —Fleet goes my barb – keep hold!Fearest thou?" – "O no!" she faintly said;"But why so stern and cold?"What yonder rings? what yonder sings?Why shrieks the owlet gray?" —"'Tis death-bells' clang, 'tis funeral song,The body to the clay."With song and clang, at morrow's dawn.Ye may inter the dead:To-night I ride, with my young bride,To deck our bridal bed."Come with thy choir, thou coffined guest,To swell our nuptial song!Come, priest, to bless our marriage feast!Come all, come all along!" —Ceased clang and song; down sunk the bier;The shrouded corpse arose:And, hurry, hurry! all the trainThe thundering steed pursues.And, forward! forward! on they go;High snorts the straining steed;Thick pants the rider's laboring breath,As headlong on they speed."O William, why this savage haste?And where thy bridal bed?" —"'Tis distant far, low, damp, and chill,And narrow, trustless maid." —"No room for me?" – "Enough for both; —Speed, speed, my barb, thy course!"O'er thundering bridge, through boiling surge,He drove the furious horse.Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode,Splash! splash! along the sea;The scourge is wight, the spur is bright,The flashing pebbles flee.Fled past on right and left how fastEach forest, grove, and bower!On right and left fled past how fastEach city, town, and tower!"Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear,Dost fear to ride with me? —Hurrah! hurrah! the dead can ride!""O William, let them be! —"See there, see there! What yonder swingsAnd creaks 'mid whistling rain?" —"Gibbet and steel, th' accursed wheel;A murderer in his chain. —"Hollo! thou felon, follow here:To bridal bed we ride;And thou shalt prance a fetter danceBefore me and my bride." —And, hurry! hurry! clash, clash, clash!The wasted form descends;And fleet as wind through hazel bushThe wild career attends.Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode,Splash! splash! along the sea;The scourge is red, the spur drops blood,The flashing pebbles flee.How fled what moonshine faintly showed!How fled what darkness hid!How fled the earth beneath their feet,The heaven above their head!"Dost fear? dost fear? The moon shines clear.And well the dead can ride;Does faithful Helen fear for them?" —"O leave in peace the dead!" —"Barb! Barb! methinks I hear the cock;The sand will soon be run:Barb! Barb! I smell the morning air;The race is well-nigh done." —Tramp! tramp! along the land they rode;Splash! splash! along the sea;The scourge is red, the spur drops blood,The flashing pebbles flee."Hurrah! hurrah! well ride the dead;The bride, the bride is come;And soon we reach the bridal bed,For, Helen, here's my home." —Reluctant on its rusty hingeRevolved an iron door,And by the pale moon's setting beamWere seen a church and tower.With many a shriek and cry whiz roundThe birds of midnight, scared;And rustling like autumnal leavesUnhallowed ghosts were heard.O'er many a tomb and tombstone paleHe spurred the fiery horse,Till sudden at an open graveHe checked the wondrous course.The falling gauntlet quits the rein,Down drops the casque of steel,The cuirass leaves his shrinking side,The spur his gory heel.The eyes desert the naked skull,The mouldering flesh the bone,Till Helen's lily arms entwineA ghastly skeleton.The furious barb snorts fire and foam,And, with a fearful bound,Dissolves at once in empty air,And leaves her on the ground.Half seen by fits, by fits half heard,Pale spectres flit along,Wheel round the maid in dismal dance,And howl the funeral song:"E'en when the heart's with anguish cleft,Revere the doom of Heaven.Her soul is from her body reft;Her spirit be forgiven!"Bürger's "Leonore" – Translated by Sir Walter Scott.

THE GREETING ON KYNAST

She said: This narrow chamber is not for me the place,Said the lady Kunigunde of Kynast!'Tis pleasanter on horseback, I'll hie me to the chase,Said the lady Kunigunde!She said: The knight who weds me, I do require of him,Said the lady Kunigunde of Kynast!To gallop round the Kynast and break not neck nor limb.A noble knight came forward and galloped round the wall;The lady Kunigunde of Kynast,The lady, without lifting a finger, saw him fall.And yet another galloped around the battlement;The lady Kunigunde,The lady saw him tumble, yet did she not relent.And rider after rider spurred round his snorting horse;The lady KunigundeSaw him vanish o'er the rampart, and never felt remorse.Long time the folly lasted, then came no rider more;The lady Kunigunde,They would not ride to win her, the trial was too sore.She stood upon her towers, she looked upon the land,The lady Kunigunde of Kynast:I'm all alone at home here, will no one seek my hand?Is there none will ride to win me, to win me for his bride,The lady Kunigunde of Kynast?O fie, the paltry rider who dreads the bridal ride!Then out and spake from Thüringen the Landgrave Adelbert:The lady Kunigunde of Kynast!Well may the haughty damsel her worthiness assert.He trains his horse to gallop on narrow walls of stone;The lady Kunigunde of Kynast!The lady shall not see us break neck or limb or bone.See here, O noble lady, I'm he that dares the ride!The lady Kunigunde,She looks in thoughtful silence, to see him sit in pride.She saw him now make ready, then trembled she and sighed,The lady Kunigunde:Woe's me that I so fearful have made the bridal ride!Then rode he round the Kynast; her face she turned away,The lady Kunigunde:Woe 's me, the knight is riding down to his grave to-day!He rides around the Kynast, right round the narrow wall;The lady Kunigunde!She cannot stir for terror her lily hand at all.He rides around the Kynast, clear round the battlement;The lady Kunigunde!As if a breath might kill him, she held her breath suspent.He rode around the Kynast and straight to her rode he;Said the lady Kunigunde of Kynast:Thanks be to God in heaven, who gave thy life to thee!Thanks be to God that into thy grave thou didst not ride!Said the lady Kunigunde:Come down from off thy horse now, O knight, unto thy bride!Then spake the noble rider, and greeted, as he sate,The lady Kunigunde:O trust a knight for horsemanship! well have I taught thee that.Now wait till comes another who can the same thing do,O lady Kunigunde of Kynast!I've wife and child already, can be no spouse for you.He gave his steed the spur, now; rode back the way he came;The lady Kunigunde!The lady saw him vanish, she swooned with scorn and shame.And she remains a virgin, her pride had such a fall,The lady Kunigunde!Changed to a wooden image she stands in sight of all.An image, like a hedgehog, with spines for hair, is nowThe lady Kunigunde of Kynast!The stranger has to kiss it, who climbs the Kynast's brow.We bring it him to kiss it: and if it shocks his pride,The lady Kunigunde of Kynast!He must pay down his forfeit, who will not kiss the bride,The lady Kunigunde!Rückert. Tr. C. T. Brooks.

HARRAS, THE BOLD LEAPER

The world yet waited in shadowy lightThe dawn of the rising day;And scarcely yet had waked the nightFrom the slumber in which it lay.But, hark! along the forest wayUnwonted echoes rung,And all accoutred for the frayA band of warriors sprung!And forth they rushed along the plain,In thunder, to the fight;And foremost of that martial trainWas Harras, the gallant knight.They ride upon their secret way,O'er forest and vale and down,To reach their foe while yet 'tis day,And storm his castled town.So sally they forth from the forest gloom;But as they leave its shadeThey rush, alas! to meet their doom,And their progress is betrayed:For suddenly bursts upon their rearThe foe, with twice their force;Then out at once rush shield and spear,And the charger flies on his course.And the wood in unwonted echoes rangWith the sounds of that deadly fray,And the sabre's clash and the helmet's clangIs mixed with the courser's neigh.A thousand wounds have dyed the fieldUnheeded in the strife;But not a man will ask to yield,For freedom is dearer than life!But their stronger foes must win the day,And the knights begin to fail;For the sword hath swept their best array,And superior powers prevail.Unconquered alone, to a rocky heightBold Harras fought his way;And his brave steed carried him through the fight,And bore him safe away.And he left the rein to that trusty steed,And rode from the fatal fray;But he gave to his erring path no heed,And he missed the well-known way.And when he heard the foemen near,He sprang from the forest gloom;But as soon as he reached the daylight clear,He saw at once his doom!He had reached a frightful precipice,Where he heard the deep waves roll;For he stood on Zschopauthal's dread abyss,And horror chilled his soul!For on yonder bank he could espyThe remnant of his band;And his heart impatient panted high,As they waved the friendly hand.And he longed, as he looked o'er that dreadful steep,For wings to aid his flight;For that cliff is full fifty fathoms deep,And his horse drew back with fright.And he saw, as he looked behind and below,On either side his grave:Behind him, from the coming foe;Before him, in the wave!And he chooses 'twixt death from the foemen's hand,Or death where the deep waves roll;Then he boldly rides up to that rocky strand,And commends to the Lord his soul!And as nearer he hears the foemen ride,He seeks the utmost steep;And he plunges his spurs in his courser's side,And dares the dreadful leap!And swiftly he sank through the yielding air,And into the flood he fell;His steed is dashed to atoms there,But the knight lives safe and well!And mid the plaudits of his band,He stemmed the parting wave,And soon in safety reached the land,For Heaven will never forsake the brave!Karl Theodor Körner. Tr. G. F. Richardson.

THE KNIGHT'S LEAP

"So the foeman has fired the gate, men of mine,And the water is spent and done;Then bring me a cup of the red Ahr-wine;I never shall drink but this one."And fetch me my harness, and saddle my horse,And lead him me round to the door:He must take such a leap to-night perforceAs horse never took before."I have lived by the saddle for years two score,And if I must die on tree,The old saddle-tree, which has borne me of yore,Is the properest timber for me."I have lived my life, I have fought my fight,I have drunk my share of wine;From Trier to Cöln there was never a knightLed a merrier life than mine."So now to show bishop and burgher and priestHow the Altenahr hawk can die,If they smoke the old falcon out of his nest,He must take to his wings and fly."He harnessed himself by the clear moonshine,And he mounted his horse at the door,And he drained such a cup of the red Ahr-wineAs never man drained before.He spurred the old horse, and he held him tight,And he leapt him out over the wall;Out over the cliff, out into the night,Three hundred feet of fall.They found him next morning below in the glen,And never a bone in him whole;But Heaven may yet have more mercy than menOn such a bold rider's soul.Charles Kingsley.

THE LEAP OF ROUSHAN BEG

Mounted on Kyrat strong and fleet,His chestnut steed with four white feet,Roushan Beg, called Kurroglou,Son of the road and bandit chief,Seeking refuge and relief,Up the mountain pathway flew.Such was Kyrat's wondrous speed,Never yet could any steedReach the dust-cloud in his course.More than maiden, more than wife,More than gold and next to lifeRoushan the Robber loved his horse.In the land that lies beyondErzeroum and Trebizond,Garden-girt his fortress stood;Plundered khan, or caravanJourneying north from Koordistan,Gave him wealth and wine and food.Seven hundred and fourscoreMen at arms his livery wore,Did his bidding night and day.Now, through regions all unknown,He was wandering, lost, alone,Seeking without guide his way.Suddenly the pathway ends,Sheer the precipice descends,Loud the torrent roars unseen;Thirty feet from side to sideYawns the chasm; on air must rideHe who crosses this ravine.Following close in his pursuit,At the precipice's foot,Reyhan the Arab of OrfahHalted with his hundred men,Shouting upward from the glen,"La Illáh illa Alláh!"Gently Roushan Beg caressedKyrat's forehead, neck, and breast;Kissed him upon both his eyes;Sang to him in his wild way,As upon the topmost spraySings a bird before it flies."O my Kyrat, O my steed,Round and slender as a reed,Carry me this peril through!Satin housings shall be thine.Shoes of gold, O Kyrat mine,O thou soul of Kurroglou!"Soft thy skin as silken skein,Soft as woman's hair thy mane,Tender are thine eyes and true;All thy hoofs like ivory shine,Polished bright; O, life of mine,Leap, and rescue Kurroglou!"Kyrat, then, the strong and fleet,Drew together his four white feet,Paused a moment on the verge,Measured with his eye the space,And into the air's embraceLeaped as leaps the ocean surge.As the ocean surge o'er sandBears a swimmer safe to land,Kyrat safe his rider bore;Rattling down the deep abyssFragments of the precipiceRolled like pebbles on a shore.Roushan's tasselled cap of redTrembled not upon his head,Careless sat he and upright;Neither hand nor bridle shook,Nor his head he turned to look,As he galloped out of sight.Flash of harness in the air,Seen a moment like the glareOf a sword drawn from its sheath;Thus the phantom horseman passed,And the shadow that he castLeaped the cataract underneath.Reyhan the Arab held his breathWhile this vision of life and deathPassed above him. "Allahu!"Cried he. "In all KoordistanLives there not so brave a manAs this Robber Kurroglou!"H. W. Longfellow.

ANNAN WATER

"Annan water's wading deep,And my love Annie's wondrous bonny;And I am laith she suld weet her feet,Because I love her best of ony."Gar saddle me the bonny black,Gar saddle sune, and make him ready;For I will down the Gatehope-Slack,And all to see my bonny ladye." —He has loupen on the bonny black,He stirr'd him wi' the spur right sairly;But, or he wan the Gatehope-Slack,I think the steed was wae and weary.He has loupen on the bonny grey,He rade the right gate and the ready;I trow he would neither stint nor stay,For he was seeking his bonny ladye.O he has ridden o'er field and fell,Through muir and moss, and mony a mire:His spurs o' steel were sair to bide,And fra her fore-feet flew the fire."Now, bonny grey, now play your part!Gin ye be the steed that wins my deary,Wi' corn and hay ye'se be fed for aye,And never spur sall make you wearie." —The grey was a mare, and a right good mare;But when she wan the Annan water,She couldna hae ridden a furlong mair,Had a thousand merks been wadded at her."O boatman, boatman, put off your boat!Put off your boat for gowden money!I cross the drumly stream the night,Or never mair I see my honey." —"O I was sworn sae late yestreen,And not by ae aith, but by many;And for a' the gowd in fair Scotland,I dare na take ye through to Annie."The side was stey, and the bottom deep,Frae bank to brae the water pouring;And the bonny grey mare did sweat for fear,For she heard the water-kelpy roaring.O he has pou'd aff his dapperpy coat,The silver buttons glanced bonny;The waistcoat bursted aff his breast,He was sae full of melancholy.He has ta'en the ford at that stream tail;I wot he swam both strong and steady;But the stream was broad, and his strength did fail,And he never saw his bonny ladye!"O wae betide the frush saugh wand!And wae betide the bush of brier!It brake into my true love's hand,When his strength did fail, and his limbs did tire."And wae betide ye, Annan Water,This night that ye are a drumlie river!For over thee I'll build a bridge,That ye never more true love may sever."