Then spake Sir Riol, old and gray: 
    “An aged knight am I;
  And they shall lay my corpse away
    Where it is good and dry.”

  And then Sir Guy began to sing—­
    He was a courtly knight: 
  “Feign would I have a birdie’s wing,
    And to my love take flight!”

  Then Count Garein, the noble, said: 
    “God, danger from us keep! 
  I’d rather drink the wine so red
    Than water in the deep.”

  Sir Lambert spake, a sprightly youth: 
    “May God behold our state! 
  I’d rather eat good fish, forsooth,
    Than be myself a bait.”

  Then quoth Sir Gottfried:  “Be it so,
    I heed not how I fare;
  Whatever I must undergo,
    My brothers all would share.”

  But at the helm King Charles sat by,
    And never said a word,
  And steered the ship with steadfast eye
    Till no more tempest stirred.

* * * * *

  FREE ART[28] (1812)

  Thou, whom song was given, sing
    In the German poets’ wood! 
  When all boughs with music ring—­
    Then is life and pleasure good.

  Nay, this art doth not belong
    To a small and haughty band;
  Scattered are the seeds of song
    All about the German land.

  Music set thy passions free
    From the heart’s confining cage;
  Let thy love like murmurs be,
    And like thunder-storm thy rage!

  Singest thou not all thy days,
    Joy of youth should make thee sing. 
  Nightingales pour forth their lays
    In the blooming months of spring!

  Though in books they hold not fast
    What the hour to thee imparts,
  Leaves unto the breezes cast,
    To be seized by youthful hearts!

  Fare thou well, thou secret lore: 
    Necromancy, Alchemy! 
  Formulas shall bind no more,
    And our art is poesy.

  Names we deem but empty air;
    Spirits we revere alone;
  Though we honor masters rare. 
    Art is free—­it is our own!

  Not in haunts of marble chill,
    Temples drear where ancients trod—­
  Nay, in oaks on woody hill,
    Lives and moves the German God.

* * * * *

  TAILLEFER[29] (1812)

  Duke William of the Normans spoke unto his servants all: 
  “Who is it sings so sweetly in the court and in the hall? 
  Who sings from early morn till the house is still at night
  So sweetly that he fills my heart with laughter and delight?”

  “’Tis Taillefer,” they answered him, “so joyously that sings
  Within the courtyard, as the wheel above the well he swings,
  And when the fire upon the hearth he stirs to burn more bright,
  And when he rises to his toil or lays him down at night.”

  Then spoke the Duke, “In him I trow I have a faithful knave—­
  This Taillefer that serves me here, so loyal and so brave;
  He turns the wheel and stirs the fire with willing, sturdy arm,
  And, best of all, with blithesome song he knows my heart to charm.”