At Aachen, in his imperial majesty,
In the ancient hall,
King Rudolf sat in his sacred power
At the festive coronation banquet.
The Count Palatinate of the Rhine brought in the food,
The King of Bohemia poured the sparkling wine,
And all seven of the Electors
Arrayed like the choir of stars around the sun
Stood around the Lord of the world, anxious to 
Maintain the dignity of their office.

And around them the high balcony was full
Of people joyfully massing together,
The sound of trombones rang out loud amidst
The rejoicing cheers of the crowd.
For the long, pernicious struggle had come to an end,
That awful time with no emperor,
There was a judge on earth again now.
The iron spear no longer reigned supreme,
The weak and peace-loving no longer feared 
Falling pray to the powerful.

And the Emperor clutches the golden beaker
And speaks with a contented look:
"The banquet is resplendent, the meal is magnificent,
And it delights my royal heart;
Yet I feel the lack of a singer, a bringer of joy,
Who can move my breast with his sweet notes
And with lofty divine teaching.
That is what I got used to in my youth,
And I was careful to follow the practice as a knight,
It is not something I want to do without as Emperor."

And behold! into the surrounding circle of princes
Stepped the singer in a long robe,
His silver white hair glistened,
Whitened with the fullness of years.
"Sweet harmony is sleeping in the gold of these strings,
The singer sings in the service of courtly love,
He lauds the highest, the best,
Whatever the heart desires, whatever the mind requires,
But tell me, what is the Emperor's wish
At his most majestic feast?"

I am not going to issue a command to the singer, says
The lord with a smile on his lips,
He has a duty to the greatest of Lords
He will respond to what the moment demands:
Just as the air roars in the stormy wind
Nobody knows where it comes from or what makes it rumble,
Like the spring emerging from hidden depths,
The singer's song calls out from within
And awakens the power of dark feelings
That miraculously sleep inside the heart.

And the singer immediately approaches the strings
And begins to pluck them powerfully:
"A noble hero rode out onto the pasture land
In order to hunt the speedy chamois.
His squire followed him with the hunting gun,
And when, on his stately horse,
He rode onto a meadow,
He heard a little bell ringing in the distance,
It was a priest with the sacred host, the body of the Lord,
With his verger walking ahead of him."

"And the Count bent down to the earth,
And bared his head in humility
To honour (with the faithful attitude of a Christian)
What has redeemed all human beings.
But there was a little stream babbling through the fields
Swelling up with the rising floodwaters of mountain torrents.
These waters hindered the progress of those travelling on foot,
And the priest puts the sacrament aside,
He quickly takes off his shoes
In order to wade through the little river."

"What are you doing?" says the Count to him
Looking at him in amazement.
Lord, I am on my way to a dying man,
Someone desperate for heavenly nourishment.
As I was approaching the bridge over the river
The gushing river torrents carried it away
Into the whirling waters.
So, in order to bring salvation to someone in extreme distress
I now want to hurry across this drop of water
In my bare feet."

"Then the Count sets him on his own knightly horse,
And puts the majestic reins in his hands,
So that he could offer solace to the person calling for him,
And so that he would not fail in his sacred duty.
And he himself got on his squire's beast
And continued to enjoy the pleasures of the hunt.
The other one completed his journey
And on the next day, with a look of gratitude,
He brings the Count's steed back
Modestly leading it by the bridle."

"God would not want," said the Count with humility,
"Me to ride that steed any more
In battle or for hunting,
The horse that has carried my creator!
So if you do not want it for your own use,
It can remain dedicated to divine service,
For I have given it to Him,
From whom my honour and earthly goods 
Are derived in fealty, along with body and blood,
Soul, breath and life."

"So may God, the almightly refuge,
Who listens to the pleading of the weak,
Lead you to be honoured here and there,
Just as you are honouring him now.
You are a mighty Count, famous
For knightly deeds in Switzerland,
You are the father of six lovely daughters.
So may they," he enthusiastically declared,
"Bring six crowns to your house,
And bring glory to your most distant descendants!"

And the Emperor sat there deep in thought
As he remembered past times,
And now, as he looked into the eyes of the singer,
He realised the meaning of those words.
He quickly recognised the priest's features,
And he hid his gushing tears
In the purple folds of his cloak.
And everyone looked at the Emperor
And recognised the Count who had done that
And they venerated the workings of God.