Thus saying, he seizes the boy by the arm, Whose grief rends the vaulted hall?s roof, while alarm His heart of all fort.i.tude robs; His limbs sink beneath him; distracted with fears, He falls at his uncle?s feet, bathes them with tears, And ?Spare me! oh, spare me!? he sobs.
But vainly the miscreant he tries to appease; And vainly he clings in despair round his knees, And sues in soft accents for life; Unmoved by his sorrow, unmoved by his prayer, Fierce Osric has twisted his hand in his hair, And aims at his bosom a knife.
But ere the steel blushes with blood, strange to tell!
Self-struck, does the tongue of the hollow-toned bell The presence of midnight declare: And while with amazement his hair bristles high, Hears Osric a voice, loud and terrible, cry, In sounds heart-appalling, ?Forbear!?
Straight curses and shrieks through the chamber resound, Shrieks mingled with laughter; the walls shake around; The groaning roof threatens to fall; Loud bellows the thunder, blue lightnings still flash; The cas.e.m.e.nts they clatter; chains rattle; doors clash, And flames spread their waves through the hall.
The clamour increases, the portals expand!
O?er the pavement?s black marble now rushes a band Of demons, all dropping with gore, In visage so grim, and so monstrous in height, That Carloman screams, as they burst on his sight, And sinks without sense on the floor.
Not so his fell uncle:?he sees that the throng Impels, wildly shrieking, a female along, And well the sad spectre he knows!
The demons with curses her steps onwards urge; Her shoulders, with whips formed of serpents, they scourge, And fast from her wounds the blood flows.
?Oh! welcome!? she cried, and her voice spoke despair; ?Oh! welcome, Sir Osric, the torments to share, Of which thou hast made me the prey.
Twelve years have I languished thy coming to see; Ulrilda, who perished dishonoured by thee Now calls thee to anguish away!
?Thy pa.s.sion once sated, thy love became hate; Thy hand gave the draught which consigned me to fate, Nor thought I death lurked in the bowl: Unfit for the grave, stained with l.u.s.t, swelled with pride, Unblessed, unabsolved, unrepenting, I died, And demons straight seized on my soul.
?Thou com?st, and with transport I feel my breast swell: Full long have I suffered the torments of h.e.l.l, And now shall its pleasures be mine!
See, see, how the fiends are athirst for thy blood!
Twelve years has my panting heart furnished their food.
Come, wretch, let them feast upon thine!?
She said, and the demons their prey flocked around; They dashed him, with horrible yell, on the ground, And blood down his limbs trickled fast; His eyes from their sockets with fury they tore; They fed on his entrails, all reeking with gore, And his heart was Ulrilda?s repast.
But now the grey c.o.c.k told the coming of day!
The fiends with their victim straight vanished away, And Carloman?s heart throbbed again; With terror recalling the deeds of the night, He rose, and from Falkenstein speeding his flight, Soon reached his paternal domain.
Since then, all with horror the ruins behold; No shepherd, though strayed be a lamb from his fold, No mother, though lost be her child, The fugitive dares in these chambers to seek, Where fiends nightly revel, and guilty ghosts shriek In accents most fearful and wild!
Oh! shun them, ye pilgrims! though late be the hour, Though loud howl the tempest, and fast fall the shower; From Falkenstein Castle begone!
There still their sad banquet h.e.l.l?s denizens share; There Osric the Lion still raves in despair: Breathe a prayer for his soul, and pa.s.s on!
The Conference of the Dead
A legend of later date than most of the Rhineland tales, but still of sufficient interest to merit inclusion among these, is that which attaches to the palace of Biberich. Biberich lies on the right bank of the river, not very far from Mainz, and its palace was built at the beginning of the eighteenth century by George Augustus, Duke of Na.s.sau.
The legend states that not long after the erection of the palace a d.u.c.h.ess of Na.s.sau died there, and lay in state as befitted her rank in a room hung with black velvet and lighted with the glimmer of many tapers.
Outside in the great hall a captain and forty-nine men of the Duke?s bodyguard kept watch over the chamber of death.
It was midnight. The captain of the guard, weary with his vigil, had gone to the door of the palace for a breath of air. Just as the last stroke of the hour died away he beheld the approach of a chariot, drawn by six magnificent coal-black horses, which, to his amazement, drew up before the palace. A lady, veiled and clad in white, alighted and made as though she would enter the building. But the captain barred the way and challenged the bold intruder.
?Who are you,? he said sternly, ?who seek to enter the palace at this hour? My orders are to let none pa.s.s.?
?I was first lady of the bedchamber to our late d.u.c.h.ess,? replied the lady in cold, imperious tones; ?therefore I demand the right of entrance.?
As she spoke she flung aside her veil, and the captain, instantly recognizing her, permitted her to enter the palace without further hindrance.
?What can she want here at this time of night?? he said to his lieutenant, when the lady had pa.s.sed into the death-chamber.
?Who can say?? replied the lieutenant. ?Unless, perchance,? he mused, ?we were to look.?
The captain took the hint, crept softly to the keyhole, and applied his eye thereto. ?Ha!? he said, shrinking back in amazement and terror, and beckoning to his lieutenant. ?In Satan?s name what have we here??
The lieutenant hastened to the chamber door, full of alarm and curiosity. Putting his eye to the keyhole, he also e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed, turned pale, and trembled. One by one the soldiers of the guard followed their officers? example, like them to retreat with exclamations of horror. And little wonder; for they perceived the dead d.u.c.h.ess sitting up in bed, moving her pale lips as though in conversation, while by her side stood the lady of the bedchamber, pale as she, and clad in grave-clothes. For a time the ghastly conversation continued, no words being audible to the terror-stricken guard; but from time to time a hollow sound reached them, like the murmur of distant thunder. At length the visitor emerged from the chamber, and returned to her waiting coach. Duty, rather than inclination, obliged the gallant captain to hand her into her carriage, and this task he performed with praiseworthy politeness, though his heart sank within him at the touch of her icy fingers, and his tongue refused to return the adieu her pale lips uttered. With a flourish of whips the chariot set off. Sparks flew from the hoofs of the horses, smoke and flame burst from their nostrils, and such was their speed that in a moment they were lost to sight. The captain, sorely puzzled by the events of the night, returned to his men, who were huddled together at the end of the hall furthest from the death-chamber.
On the morrow, ere the guard had had time to inform the Duke of these strange happenings, news reached the palace that the first lady of the bedchamber had died on the previous night at twelve o?clock. It was supposed that sorrow for her mistress had caused her death.
Eppstein
Of the castle of Eppstein, whose ruins still remain in a valley of the Taunus Mountains, north of Biberich, the following curious story is told.
Sir Eppo, a brave and chivalrous knight?and a wealthy one to boot, as were his successors of Eppstein for many generations?was one day hunting in the forest, when he became separated from his attendants and lost his way. In the heat of the chase his sense of direction had failed him, and though he sounded his bugle loud and long there was no reply.
Tired out at length with wandering hither and thither, he rested himself in a pleasant glade, and was surprised and charmed to hear a woman?s voice singing a mournful melody in soft, clear tones. It was a sheer delight to Sir Eppo to listen to a voice of such exquisite purity, yet admiration was not the only feeling it roused in his breast. There was a note of sadness and appeal in the song, and what were knighthood worth if it heeded not the voice of fair lady in distress? Sir Eppo sprang to his feet, forgetting his own plight in the ardour of chivalry, and set off in the direction from which the voice seemed to come. The way was difficult, and he had to cut a pa.s.sage with his sword through the dense thicket that separated him from the singer. At length, guided by the melancholy notes, he arrived before a grotto, in which he beheld a maiden of surpa.s.sing beauty, but of sorrowful mien. When she saw the handsome knight gazing at her with mingled surprise and admiration she ceased her song and implored his aid. A cruel giant, she said, had seized her and brought her thither. At the moment he was asleep, but he had tied her to a rock so that she might not escape.
Her beauty and grace, her childlike innocence, her piteous plight, moved Sir Eppo strangely. First pity, then a stronger emotion dawned in his breast. He severed her bonds with a stroke of his keen falchion.
?What can I do to aid thee, gentle maiden?? he said. ?You have but to command me; henceforth I am thy knight, to do battle for thee.?
The damsel blushed at the courteous words, but she lifted her eyes bravely to the champion who had so unexpectedly appeared to protect her.
?Return to my castle,? she said, ?and there thou wilt find a consecrated net. Bring it hither. If I lay it upon the giant he will become as weak as a babe and will be easily overcome.?
Eagerly the young knight obeyed the command, and having found the net according to the damsel?s directions, he made all haste to return. At the grotto he paused and hid himself, for the strident voice of the giant could be heard within. Presently the monster emerged, and departed in search of reeds wherewith to make a pipe. No sooner had he disappeared than the maiden issued from the grotto, and Sir Eppo came out of his concealment and gave her the consecrated net. She spoke a few words of heartfelt grat.i.tude, and then hurried with her treasure to the top of the mountain, where she knew the giant had intended to go.
Arrived at her destination, she laid down the net and covered it with moss, leaves, and sweet-smelling herbs. While engaged in her task the giant came up, and the damsel smilingly told him that she was preparing a couch whereon he might take some rest. Gratified at her solicitude, he stretched himself unsuspectingly on the fragrant pile. In a moment the damsel, uttering the name of the Trinity, threw a portion of the net over him, so that he was completely enveloped. Immediately there arose such loud oaths and lamentations that the damsel ran in terror to the knight, who had now come upon the scene.
?Let us fly,? she said, ?lest he should escape and pursue us.?
But Sir Eppo strode to the place where the howling monster lay entangled in the net, and with a mighty effort rolled him over a steep precipice, where he was instantly killed.
The story ends happily, for Sir Eppo and the maiden he had rescued were married soon after; and on the spot where they had first met was raised the castle of Eppstein. It is said that the bones of the giant may still be seen there.
Florsheim: The Shepherd Knight
In the now ruined castle of Wilenstein, overlooking the wooded heights of the Westrich, dwelt Sir Bodo of Florsheim and his fair daughter Adeline. The maiden?s beauty, no less than her father?s wealth, attracted suitors in plenty from the neighbouring strongholds, but the spirit of love had not yet awakened in her bosom and each and all were repulsed with disconcerting coldness and indifference, and they left the schloss vowing that the lovely Adeline was utterly heartless.
One day there came to Sir Bodo a youth of pleasing manners and appearance, picturesquely clad in rustic garb, who begged that he might enter the knight?s service in the capacity of shepherd. Though he hinted that he was of n.o.ble birth, prevented by circ.u.mstances from revealing his ident.i.ty, yet he based his request solely on his merits as a tender of flocks and herds, and as Sir Bodo found that he knew his work well and that his intelligence was beyond question, he gave him the desired post. As time went on Sir Bodo saw no reason to regret his action, for his flocks and herds prospered as they had never done before, and none but good reports reached him concerning his servant.
Meantime Adeline heard constant references to Otto (as the shepherd was called) both from her father and her waiting-women. The former praised his industry and abilities, while the latter spoke of his handsome looks and melancholy air, his distinction and good breeding, and the mystery which surrounded his ident.i.ty. All this excited the maiden?s curiosity, and her pity was aroused as well, for it seemed that the stranger had a secret grief, which sometimes found vent in tears when he thought himself un.o.bserved.
Adeline saw him for the first time one afternoon while she was walking in the castle grounds. At sight of her he paused as though spell-bound, and the maiden blushed under his earnest scrutiny. A moment later, however, he recovered himself, and courteously asked her pardon for his seeming rudeness.
?Forgive me, fair lady,? said he; ?it seemed that I saw a ghost in your sweet face.?