Thou hast been their friend; They, alas! have left thee friendless! Yet at least by one warm fireside And, as swallows build In these wide, old-fashioned chimneys, Quiet close and warm, Sheltered from ail molestation, And recalling by their voices Youth and travel. VOGELWEIDE the Minnesinger, When he left this world of ours, Laid his body in the cloister, Under Würtzburg's minster towers. And he gave the monks his treasures, They should feed the birds at noontide Daily on his place of rest; WALTER VON DER VOGELWEIDE. 127 Saying, "From these wandering minstrels I have learned the art of song; Let me now repay the lessons They have taught so well and long." Thus the bard of love departed; And, fulfilling his desire, On his tomb the birds were feasted Day by day, o'er tower and turret, Flocked the poets of the air. On the tree whose heavy branches On the pavement, on the tombstone, On the cross-bars of each window, There they sang their merry carols, And the name their voices uttered Was the name of Vogelweide. Till at length the portly abbot Murmured, "Why this waste of food? Be it changed to loaves henceforward For our fasting brotherhood." Then in vain o'er tower and turret, From the walls and woodland nests, When the minster bells rang noontide, Gathered the unwelcome guests. Then in vain, with cries discordant, Time has long effaced the inscriptions And tradition only tells us Where repose the poet's bones. But around the vast cathedral, By sweet echoes multiplied, Still the birds repeat the legend, And the name of Vogelweide. COME, old friend! sit down and listen! From the pitcher, placed between us, How the waters laugh and glisten Old Silenus, bloated, drunken, Led by his inebriate Satyrs; On his breast his head is sunken, Fauns with youthful Bacchus follow; As the forehead of Apollo, And possessing youth eternal. R |