“Thou bearest splendid armor, like one of royal kind;
So bright thy glit‘ering corselet, mine eyes are stricken blind;
Thou, who at home should‘st rest thee, and shun a warrior‘s stroke,
And slumber by the fireside,” the old man laughed and spoke.
“Should I at firesides rest me, and nurse me well at home,
Full many a fight awaits me, to many a field I‘ll come.
In many a rattling foray, shall I be known and feared;
Believe my word, thou youngster, ’twas thus I blanched my beard.”
“That beard will I tear from thee, though great may be thy pain.
Until the blood-drops trickling, have sprinkled all the plain;
Thy fair green shield and armor, must thou resign to me,
Than seek the town, contented my prisoner to be.
“My armor and my fair green shield have warded many a blow;
I trust that God in Heaven still will guard me from my foe.”
No more they spoke together, but grasped their weapons keen,
And what the two most longed for, soon came to pass, I ween!
With glittering sword, the younger struck such a sudden blow,
That with its force the warrior, Sir Hildebrand, bent low;
The youth in haste recoiling, sprang twelve good steps behind,
“Such leaps,” exclaimed the gray-beard, “were learned of womankind.”
“Had I learned ought of woman, it were to me a shame,
Within my father‘s castle are many knights of fame;
Full many knights and riders about my father throng,
And what as yet, I know not, I trust to learn ere long.”
Sir Hildebrand was cunning, the old gray bearded man,
For when the youth uplifted, beneath his sword he ran;
Around the Ritter‘s girdle his arms he tightly bound,
And on the ground he cast him—there lies he on the ground!
“Who rubs against the kittles, may spotless keep who can—
How fares it now, young hero, against the old gray man?
Now quickly speak and shrive thee, for I thy priest will be;
Say, art thou a young Wolfing? perhaps I‘ll let thee free.”
“Like wolves are all the Wolfing, they ran wild in the wood,
But I‘m a Grecian warrior, a rider brave and good;
Frau Ute is my mother, she dwelleth near this spot,
And Hildebrand, my father, albeit he knows us not!”
“Is Ute then thy mother, that monarch‘s daughter free?
Seekest thou thy father, Hildebrand? then know that I am he!”
Uplifted he his golden helm, and kissed him on the mouth;
Now God be praised that both are safe! the old man and the youth.