TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF UHLAND.
Lady Bertha sat in the rocky cleft,
Her bitter woes to weep;
Little Roland played in the free fresh air;
His sorrows were not deep.
"My royal brother, O King Charles,
Why did I fly from thee?
Splendor and rank I left for love;
Now thou art wroth with me.
"O Milon, Milon, husband dear!
Beneath the waves art thou;
For love I have forsaken all,
Yet love forsakes me now.
"O Roland! thou, my dearest boy,
Now fame and love to me;
Come quickly, little Roland, come!
My hope rests all on thee.
"Go to the city, Roland, go!
To beg us meat and bread;
And whoso gives the smallest gift,
Ask blessings on his head."
Now great King Charles at table sat,
In the golden hall of state;
With dish and cup the servants ran,
On the noble guests to wait.
Flute, harp, and minstrelsy now tune
All hearts to joyful mood;
The cheerful music does not reach
To Bertha's solitude.
Before the hall in the court-yard sat
Of beggars a motley throng;
The meat and drink was more to them
Than flute, and harp, and song.
The king looked out, through the open door,
Upon the beggar throng;
Through the crowd he saw a noble boy,
Pushing his way along.