Knight Toggenburg (Murray)

"Sir Knight! true sister-love This heart devotes to thee: No fonder seek to prove, For oh! it paineth me. Calmly I see thee near, Calmly I see thee go: But why that silent tear Is wept, I may not know."

By dumb despair oppresse'd The warrior's heart was wrung— He strained her to his breast, Then on his charger sprung; And summoned vassals brave Forth from the Switzer's land, And sought the Holy Grave With red-cross pilgrim-band.

There deeds of daring might Were wrought by heroes' arms— Their helmet-plumes waved bright Amid the Paynim-swarms: And Toggenburg's dread name Struck terror to the foe, But still no solace came To soothe his lonely woe.

One year he now hath pined— Why longer should he stay? Repose he cannot find Amid the host's array. A bark from Joppa's strand Sailed gentle gales beneath: He seeks the hallowed land Where floats her balmy breath.

And soon a pilgrim wan Knocks at her castle-gate, And hears", oh! lonely man! The thunder-word of fate: "The maid thou seekest now Is Heaven's unspotted bride, By yester-morning's vow To God himself allied."

'Tis past! He quits for aye His old ancestral home; His arms with rust decay, His steeds at pleasure roam. Down from his natal crags, Unknown to all, he hies: A hermit's sackcloth rags His noble limbs disguise.

He rears a lowly hut Near scenes endeared by love, Where frowns her convent shut 'Mid shade of linden-grove: And in that lonesome place He sate from dawn of day, With hope upon his face, Till evening's latest ray;

Watching with earnest hope The convent-walls above To mark a lattice ope, The lattice of his love: To see but once her face, So meek and angel-mild, Low bending down to gaze Upon the valley wild.

And then he sought repose, Consoled by visions bright, Nor thought upon his woes At sweet return of light. And thus he sate—alone— Long dream-like days and years, Waiting, without a moan, Until the maid appears:

Waiting to see her face, So meek and angel-mild, Low bending down to gaze Upon the valley wild. And so he sate in death One summer morning, there, Still watching from beneath With fond, calm, wistful stare!

Ritter Toggenburg Le Chevalier Toggenbourg (tr. Marmier) Cavalerul Toggenburg Рыцарь Тогенбург (Шиллер/Жуковский)