Poems (Follen)/Little Roland
LITTLE ROLAND.
[translated from the GERMAN OF UHLAND.]
Lady Bertha sat in the rocky cleft. Her bitter woes to weep: Little Roland played in the free fresh air; His sorrows were not deep.
"My royal brother, O King Charles, Why did I fly from thee! Splendor and rank I left for love; Now thou art wroth with me.
"O Milon, Milon, husband dear! Beneath the waves art thou: For love I have forsaken all; Yet love forsakes me now.
"O Roland! thou ray dearest boy, Now fame and love to me; Come quickly, little Roland, come! My hope rests all on thee.
"Go to the city, Roland, go! To beg us meat and bread; And whoso gives the smallest gift, Ask blessings on his head."
Now great King Charles at table sat, In the golden hall of state: With dish and cup the servants ran, On the noble guests to wait.
Flute, harp, and minstrelsy now tune All hearts to joyful mood: The cheerful music does not reach To Bertha's solitude.
Before the hall in the court-yard sat Of beggars a motley throng: The meat and drink was more to them Than flute, and harp, and song.
The king looked out through the open door, Upon the beggar throng: Through the crowd he saw a noble boy, Pushing his way along.
Strange was the little fellow's dress; Of divers colors all: But with the beggars he would not stay; He looked up at the hall.
Within the hall little Roland treads, As though it were his own: He takes a dish from the royal board In silence, and is gone.
The king he thinks—what do I see? This is a curious way; But, as he quietly submits, The rest do nothing say.
In a little while again he comes: To the king he marches up; And little Roland boldly takes The royal golden cup.
"Halloa! stop there! thou saucy wight!" King Charles's voice did ring: Little Roland kept the golden cup. And looked up at the king.
The king at first looked angrily; But very soon he smiled: "You tread here in our golden hall, As in the green woods wild,"
From the royal table you take a dish, As they take an apple from a tree; As with the waters of the brook, With my red wine you make free."
"The peasant drinks from the running brook; On apples she may dine: My mother must have fish and game, For her is the foaming wine."
"Is thy mother such a noble dame As thou, my boy, dost boast,—Then, surely, has she a castle fair, And of vassals a stately host.
"Tell me, who may her sewer be? And who cup-bearer too?" "My own right hand her sewer is; My left, cup-bearer true."
"Tell on; who are her faithful guards?" "My two blue eyes alway." "Tell on; who is her minstrel free?" "My rosy mouth, I say."
"Brave servants has the dame, indeed; But does strange livery choose,—Made up of colors manifold, Shining with rainbow hues."
"From each quarter of the city, With eight boys I have fought: Four sorts of cloth to the conqueror, As tribute, they have brought."
"The best of servants, to my mind, The dame's must surely be: She is, I wot, the beggar's Queen, Who keeps a table free.
"The noble lady should not far From my royal palace be: Arise, three ladies, and three lords! And bring her in to me."
Little Roland, holding fast the cup, From the splendid hall he hies: To follow him, at the king's command, Three lords, three ladies, rise.
And after now a little while, The king sees, far away,The noble ladies and the knights Return without delay.
The king he cries out suddenly,— "Help, Heav'n! see I aright? 'T is my own blood, in open hall, I have treated with cruel slight.
"Help, Heav'n! in pilgrim dress I see My sister Bertha stand;So pale in my gay palace here, A beggar's staff in her hand!"
Lady Bertha sinks down at his feet, Pale image of despair: His wrath returns, and he looks on her With a stern and angry air.
Lady Bertha quick cast down her eyes; No word to speak she tried: Little Roland raised his clear blue eyes,— "My Uncle!" loud he cried.
"Rise up, my sister Bertha, rise!" The king said tenderly: "For the sake of this dear son of thine, Thou shalt forgiven be."
Lady Bertha rose up joyfully: "Dear brother! thanks to thee: Little Roland shall requite the boon Thou hast bestowed on me.
"He of the glory of his king Shall be an image fair: The colors of many a foreign realm His banner and shield shall bear.
"The cup from many a royal board He shall seize with his free right hand, And safety and fresh glory bring To his sighing mother-land."