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Der Liedler

Language: German (Deutsch)

"Gib, Schwester, mir die Harf' herab,
Gib mir Biret und Wanderstab,
Kann hier nicht fürder weilen!
Bin ahnenlos, bin nur ein Knecht,
Bin für die edle Maid zu schlecht,
Muß stracks von hinnen eilen!

"Still, Schwester, bist Gottlob! nun Braut,
Wirst morgen Wilhelm angetraut,
Soll mich nichts weiter halten!
Nun küsse mich, Leb, Trude, wohl!
Dies Herze, Schmerz und Liebe voll,
Laß Gott den Herrn bewalten!"

- Der Liedler zog durch manches Land,
Am alten [Rhein, am]1 Donaustrand,
Wohl über Berg' und Flüsse!
Wie weit er flieht, wohin er zieht,
Er trägt den Wurm im Herzen mit,
Und singt nur Sie, die Süße!

Und er's nicht länger tragen kann!
Thät sich mit Schwert und Panzer an,
Den Tod sich zu erstreiten:
Im Tod ist Ruh! im Grab ist Ruh'!
Das Grab deckt Herz und Wünsche zu;
Ein Grab will er erreiten!

- Der Tod ihn floh, und Ruh ihn floh;
Des Herzogs Panner flattert froh
Der Heimath Gruß entgegen;
Entgegen wallt, entgegen schallt
Der Freunde Gruß durch Saat und Wald,
Auf allen Weg' und Stegen.

Da ward ihm unterm Panzer weh,
Im Frühroth glüht der ferne Schnee
Der heimischen Gebirge;
Ihm [war]2, als zög's mit Hünenkraft
Dahin sein Herz, der Brust entrafft,
Als ob's ihn hier erwürge!

Da [mocht']3 er's fürder nicht besteh'n!
"Muß meine Heimath wiederseh'n,
Muß Sie noch einmal schauen!"
Die mit der Minne Rosenhand
[Sein]4 Herz an jene Berge band,
Die herrlichen, die blauen!

Da warf er Wehr und Waffe weg,
Sein Rüstzeug weg ins Dorngeheg',
Die liederreichen Saiten,
Die Harfe nur, der Süßen Ruhm,
Sein Klagepsalm, sein Heiligthum,
Soll ihn zurück begleiten.

Und als der Winter trat in's Land,
Der Frost im Lauf die Ströme band,
Betrat er seine Berge;
Da lag's ein Leichentuch von Eis,
Lag's vorn' und neben todtenweiß,
Wie tausend Hünen-Särge!

Lag's unter ihm, sein Mutterthal,
Das gräflich Schloß im Abendstrahl,
[Die Süße]5 d'rinn geborgen!
Glück auf, der Alpe Pilgerruh
Winkt heute Ruh dir Ärmster zu,
Zur Veste, Liedler morgen!

"Ich hab nicht Rast, ich hab nicht Ruh,
Muß heute noch der Feste zu,
Wo Milla d'rin geborgen!"
Bist [starr und]6 blaß! "Bin todtenkrank,
Heut ist noch mein! Todt, Gott sey Dank,
Todt find't mich wohl der Morgen!"

Horch Maulgetrab', horch Schellenklang
Vom Schloß herab, der Alp' entlang
Zog's unter Fackelhelle;
Ein Ritter führt, ihm angetraut,
Führt Milla heim als seine Braut:
Bist Liedler schon zur Stelle!

Der Liedler schaut' und sank in sich;
Da bricht und schnaubet wüthiglich
Ein Wehrwolf durch's Gehäge,
Die Maule flieh'n, kein [Zaum]7 sie zwingt,
Der Schecke stürzt, weh! Milla sinkt
Ohnmächtig hin im Wege. -

Da riß er sich, ein Blitz, empor
Zum Hort der Heißgeminnten vor!
Hoch auf des Unthiers Nacken
Schwang er sein theures Harfenspiel,
Daß es zersplittert niederfiel,
Und Nick und Rachen knacken.

Und wenn er stark, [denn]8 Simson wär,
Erschöpft mag er und sonder Wehr
Den Grimmen nicht bestehen!
Vom Busen, vom zerfleischten Arm,
Quillt's Herzblut nieder, liebewarm,
Schier denkt er zu vergehen.

Ein Blick auf Sie! und alle Kraft
Mit einmahl er zusammenrafft,
Die noch verborgen schliefe,
Ringt um den Wehrwolf Arm und Hand,
Und stürzt sich von der Felsenwand
Mit ihm in schwindle Tiefe. -

Fahr, Liedler, [wohl!]9 auf ewig wohl!
Dein Herze [Schmerz und Liebe voll]10,
Hat Ruh im [Grabe funden!]11
Das Grab ist aller Pilger Ruh,
Das Grab deckt [alle Wunden]12 zu,
Macht alles Leids gesunden!


Translation(s): CAT DUT ENG FRE

List of language codes

View original text (without footnotes)

Confirmed with Selam. Ein Almanach für Freunde des Mannigfaltigen, Herausgegeben von I.F.Castelli, Vierter Jahrgang 1815, Wien, gedruckt und im Verlage bey Anton Strauß, pages 42-46.

1 Schubert: "Rhein- und"
2 Schubert (Alte Gesamtausgabe): "war's"
3 Schubert: "konnt'"
4 Schubert (Alte Gesamtausgabe): "Ein"
5 Schubert: "Wo Milla"
6 Schubert: "starr, bist"
7 Schubert (Alte Gesamtausgabe): "Saum"
8 Schubert: "wie"
9 Schubert: "fahr"
10 Schubert: "schmerz- und liebevoll"
11 Schubert: "Grab gefunden."
12 Schubert: "Herz und Wünsche"

Submitted by Emily Ezust [Administrator] and Peter Rastl [Guest Editor]

Authorship

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Available translations, adaptations or excerpts, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • CAT Catalan (Català) (Salvador Pila) , "El joglar", copyright © 2017, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • DUT Dutch (Nederlands) [singable] (Lau Kanen) , "De liedzanger", copyright © 2007, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • ENG English (Malcolm Wren) , "The minstrel", copyright © 2016, (re)printed on this website with kind permission
  • FRE French (Français) (Guy Laffaille) , "Le chanteur", copyright © 2012, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Text added to the website between May 1995 and September 2003.

Last modified: 2018-03-17 07:53:20
Line count: 102
Word count: 557

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The minstrel

Language: English after the German (Deutsch)

Take the harp down for me, sister,
Give me my hat and walking stick
I cannot stay here any longer!
I have no ancestors, I am just a common lad,
I am not good enough for the noble maid,
I have to hurry away from here immediately.

"Quiet, sister, thank God you are now a bride,
You are going to be married to Wilhelm tomorrow,
You can no longer hold on to me.
Now kiss me, fare, Trude, well!
This heart, full of pain and love,
Let the Lord God protect it."

The minstrel passed through many a land
By the banks of the old Rhine and the Danube,
Crossing over mountains and rivers.
However far he flees, wherever he goes,
He carries the worm with him in his heart
And sings only about her, the sweet one.

And when he could not bear it any longer
He put on a shield and armour,
In order to go into battle with death.
In death there is calm, in the grave there is rest,
The grave covers up heart and desires;
He is determined to ride towards a grave.

Death fled from him and rest fled from him!
The Duke's banner flutters merrily,
Offering a greeting from home,
Surging and resounding back and forth
Came the greetings of friends across sowed fields and through the woods
Along all the roads and footpaths.

Then the armour began to hurt him!
In the early red of dawn the distant snow glowed
On the hills of his homeland;
He felt as if a titanic power were pulling at
His heart, tugging at his breast,
As if he were being strangled here.

Then he could resist no longer:
"I have to see my homeland again,
I have to look at it once more!"
It used the rosy hand of love
To bind his heart to those mountains,
Those majestic, blue mountains!

Then he threw away his shield and weapon,
He threw his equipment into the thorny hedge;
The song rich strings of
His harp alone, praise for his sweetheart,
His lamenting psalm, his shrine,
Would be all that remained behind.

And when winter entered into the land
And frost stopped the streams in their course
He stepped into his mountains.
There it lay, a shroud of ice,
All around it lay white as death,
Like a thousand Titanic coffins!

Within it lay his maternal valley,
The Duke's castle in the evening light
Sheltering Milla within it.
Good luck. The Alpine pilgrims' lodge
Beckons and offers rest to the poor traveller today:
In the morning, minstrel, off to the stronghold!

I cannot rest, I am not at peace,
I really have to go today to the castle 
Where Milla is being sheltered.
"You are stiff, you are pale!" I am mortally ill,
But today is still mine! Death, thank God,
Death will easily find me tomorrow.

Listen to the trotting of mules, listen to the sound of bells!
Coming down from the castle along the mountainside
They are processing by the light of torches.
A knight is leading his betrothed,
He is leading Milla as his bride
And you, minstrel, are already in attendance!

The minstrel watched and sank into himself.
Then bursting and snorting furiously
A werewolf broke through the hedge,
The mules fled, nothing could stop them.
The pony fell. Oh no! Milla sinks
Unconscious onto the roadway.

Then he rose up like lightning
To protect the one he loved so warmly,
High up into the beast's neck
He hurled his dear harp
With such strength that it was shattered when it fell back down
And the jaws and throat were crushed.

And even if he had been as strong as Samson
He would have been exhausted and without any weapon
He could not have resisted the raging beast.
From his breast, from his arm with flesh torn off
His heart's blood poured, with the warmth of love,
He really thought he was about to die.

One look at her, and all his strength
Was called back up, he called on the strength
That had been sleeping, hidden away!
He wrestled with the werewolf, with his arms and hands around it,
And then fell off the cliff
With it into the dizzying depths.

Farewell, minstrel, farewell for ever!
Your heart, full of pain and love
Has found rest in the grave!
The grave is the repose of all pilgrims,
The grave covers up heart and desires,
It provides a cure for all suffering.


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Authorship

  • Translation from German (Deutsch) to English copyright © 2016 by Malcolm Wren, (re)printed on this website with kind permission. To reprint and distribute this author's work for concert programs, CD booklets, etc., you may ask the copyright-holder(s) directly or ask us; we are authorized to grant permission on their behalf. Please provide the translator's name when contacting us.

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Based on
  • a text in German (Deutsch) by Josef Kenner (1794 - 1868), "Der Liedler", subtitle: "Romanze", first published 1815 CAT DUT FRE
      • This text was set to music by the following composer(s): Franz Peter Schubert. Go to the text.

 

Text added to the website: 2016-09-10.
Last modified: 2016-09-10 11:39:13
Line count: 102
Word count: 749