Resting in the halls of his predecessors
Was Sir Rudolf's heroic arm.
That Rudolf who relished battle,
That Rudolf that terrified France
And the Saracen horde.

He, the last of his line,
Wept over the fall of his sons;
Within the walls with moss growing on them
His mournful laments
Echoed in the cells.

Agnes with her golden locks
Was the old man's comfort and staff;
Gentle as doves, white as swans,
She kissed her father's tears
Wiping them from his grey eyelids.

Oh! She herself cried secretly,
When the moon shone through the window;
Albrecht with his open brow
Was burning with desire for the noble lass,
And the lass loved him!

But Horst, who controlled a hundred soldiers,
Supporting them out of his own pocket,
Boasted of his family tree 
Draping himself in military colours
And her father was fond of him.

Once at a public banquet Albrecht kissed
Her soft hand.
Her gentle eyes attempted
To punish him. Oh! Then there appeared
Tears on her bodice.

Horst was enflamed, he looked to the side
Towards his heavy murder weapon.
On the knight's cheek there was a glow
Of rage and love. Fire flashed
Out of his eyes, getting everywhere.

Threateningly he threw his glove
Into Agnes's chaste lap.
"Albrecht, take it! Within the hour
I shall expect you in the grounds of the mill!"
As soon as he had spoken his horse flew off.

Albrecht took the challenge
Calmly and mounted his horse.
He relished the girl's tears,
Which, honouring him and love,
Were flowing out of her blue eyes.

The armour shone red
In the glow of the evening sun.
From the hooves of their horses
You could hear the earth resound 
And the deer fled into the valley.

Leaning on the edge of the balcony
Was Agnes, crying,
She saw the shiny spears flash,
She saw the noble knight sink.
She sank, like Albrecht, and went pale.

Uneasy with some foreboding Horst spurs on 
His froth covered horse.
He now hears the outcry in the house,
Hurries into the girl's chamber
Stares and plunges in his sword.

Rudolph took his cold daughter
In his fatherly arms.
He held her like that for two long days,
Tearless and without lamenting,
And then departed in silent grief.