Der Herr vom Rodensteine
Sprach fiebrig und schabab:
'Ungern duld' ich alleine
Wo steckt mein treuer Knapp?
The Herr vom Rodensteine
Said, sick, in fever-rage,
'A lone in pain I pine--oh!
Where is my faithful page?
'I feel in head and belly
All pains that man annoy;
This time 'ts the neck, I tell ye;
Where is my jolly boy?'
Four of his men went riding--
Went riding at his beck:
They found the truant biding
By beer in Bremeneck.
He drank and spoke with sorrow:
'Brave Rodenstein--ah me!
Dark night and darker morrow!
I cannot come to thee.
'If you have had your stitches,
I, too, have grief, d'ye know?
They've got my coat and breeches,
And will not let me go!
The riders told, heart-breaking,
What they had witnessed there;
Their lord said, fever-shaking,
'Oh boy--that was not fair!
'And wilt thou leave me sweating
In need and pain away?
So shall thou stay there sitting
Until the Judgment Day!'
He spoke and died in fever--
His last sad word struck sore;
The page none can deliver--
He stays there evermore.
Of nights, like storm-winds howling,
You hear the knight in rage;
The Rodenstein loud growling,
Who asks, 'Where is my page?