A squire rode along the moor,
  Going to meet his beloved;
  He felt so solitary and so anxious,
  Nothing in the land around him was stirring;
  Night fell quietly and darkly,
  And mists concealed his pathway.
 
Long was the way to his fair beloved,
  Her father’s halls were far away;
  Then in the twilight the squire saw
  A pilgrim wandering alone.
  Companionably he spoke to the stranger:
  "Whither, whence, you wanderer?
 
Why are you walking alone upon the moor?
  In the dark you might easily go astray.
  Look, night clouds approach so portentously,
  And the bats are swarming about.
  I would happily halt my horse,
  Thus we could walk together along the moor."
 
The two travelled on together,
  But the pilgrim remained silent.
  Thereupon the squire asked: "To which place,
  Comrade, do you wish to go?"--
  "Where you are going, I go not,
  We shall part as dawn breaks."--
 
"So tell me then, what are you called?"--
  "I am the Earl of the Moorlands."--
  "And you walk so silently and solitarily?"--
  "That is because I walk in grief."--
  "Where is your knave and your steed?"--
  "They wait for me in the dark castle."
 
"Ah, noble earl, thus unarmed
  You wander upon the dark moor?"--
  "Of what use to me are casque and sword?
  No one does me any harm.
  And so that you, squire, know all:
  I am the ghost of a dead earl.
 
You ride quickly through the dark night
  To sweetly warm yourself by your beloved;
  I was brought to the grave by love,
  I rest in the arms of death.
  Now farewell; the day is dawning,
  Ride on, you lusty, living man!"