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“ 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.
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
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 wilt
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
IV. Out spoke the noble Moringer, “Of that have thou no
care, There's many a valiant gentleman of me holds living
fair; The trustiest shall rule my land, my vassals and my
state, And be a guardian tried and true to thee, my lovely
V. “ As Christian-man, I needs must keep the vow which
I have plight, When I am far in foreign land, remember thy true
knight; And cease, my dearest dame, to grieve, for vain were
sorrow now, But grant thy Moringer his leave, since God bath
heard his vow.”
VI. It was the noble Moringer from bed he made him
boune, And met him there his Chamberlain, with ewer and
He flung the mantle on his back, 'twas furr'd with
miniver, He dipp'd his hand in water cold, and bathed his fore
VII. “Now hear,” he said, “Sir Chamberlain, true vassal
art thou mine, And such the trust that I repose in that proved worth
For seven years shalt thou rule my towers, and lead
my vassal train, And pledge thee for my Lady's faith till I return
VIII. The Chamberlain was blunt and true, and sturdily said
he, “ Abide, my lord, and rule your own, and take this
rede from me; That woman's faith's a brittle trust-Seven twelve
months didst thou say? I'll pledge me for no lady's truth beyond the seventh
The noble Baron turn'd him round, his heart was full
His gallant Esquire stood him nigh, he was Marstet
ten'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 ?
“ To watch and ward my castle strong, and to protect
And to the hunting or the host to lead my vassal band; And pledge thee for my Lady's faith, till seven long
years are gone, And guard her as Our Lady dear was guarded by Saint
XI. Marstetten's heir was kind and true, but fiery, hot, and
young, And readily he answer made with too presumptuous
tongue; “My noble lord, cast care away, and on your journey
wend, And trust this charge to me until your pilgrimage have end.
XII. Rely upon my plighted faith, which shall be truly
tried, To guard your lands, and ward your towers, and with
your vassals ride; And for your lovely Lady's faith, so virtuous and so
dear, I'll gage my head it knows no change, be absent thirty year.”
XIII. The noble Moringer took cheer when thus he heard
him speak, And doubt forsook his troubled brow, and sorrow left
his cheek; A long adieu he bids to all-hoist topsails, and away, And wanders in Saint Thomas-land seven twelvemonths
and a day.
XIV. It was the noble Moringer within an orchard slept, When on the Baron's slumbering sense a boding vision
crept; And whisper'd in his ear a voice, “ 'Tis time, Sir
Knight, to wake,