In a little German village,
On the waters of the Rhine,
Gay and joyous in their pastimes,
In the pleasant vintage-time,
Were a group of happy peasants,
For the day released from toil,
Thanking God for all his goodness
In the product of their soil,
When a cry rung through the welkin,
And appeared upon the scene
A panting dog, with crest erect,
Foaming mouth, and savage mien.
“He is mad!” was shrieked in chorus.
In dismay they all fell back,--
_All_ except one towering figure,--
’Twas the smith of Ragenbach.
God had given this man his image;
Nature stamped him as complete.
Now it was incumbent on him
To perform a greater feat
Than Horatius at the bridge,
When he stood on Tiber’s bank;
For behind him were his townsfolk,
Who, appalled with terror, shrank
[Illustration]
From the most appalling danger,--
That which makes the bravest quail,--
While they all were grouped together,
Shaking limbs and visage pale.
For a moment cowered the beast,
Snapping to the left and right,
While the blacksmith stood before him
In the power of his might.
“_One_ must die to save the many,
Let it then my duty be:
I’ve the power. Fear not, neighbors!
From this peril you’ll be free.”
As the lightning from the storm-cloud
Leaps to earth with sudden crash,
So upon the rabid monster
Did this man and hero dash.
In the death-grip then they struggled,
Man and dog, with scarce a sound,
Till from out the fearful conflict
Rose the man from off the ground,
Gashed and gory from the struggle;
But the beast lay stiff and dead.
There he stood, while people gathered,
And rained blessings on his head.
“Friends,” he said, “from one great peril,
With God’s help, I’ve set you free,
But my task is not yet ended,
There is danger now in _me_.
Yet secure from harm you shall be,
None need fear before I die.
That my sufferings may be shortened,
Ask of Him who rules on high.”
Then unto his forge he straightway
Walked erect, with rapid step,
While the people followed after,
Some with shouts, while others wept;
And with nerve as steady as when
He had plied his trade for gain,
He selected, without faltering,
From his store, the heaviest chain.
To his anvil first he bound it,
Next his limb he shackled fast,
Then he said unto his townsfolk,
“All your danger now is past.
Place within my reach, I pray you,
Food and water for a time,
Until God shall ease my sufferings
By his gracious will divine.”
Long he suffered, but at last
Came a summons from on high,
Then his soul, with angel escort,
Sought its home beyond the sky;
And the people of that village,
Those whom he had died to save,
Still with grateful hearts assemble,
And with flowers bedeck his grave.