Poems (Waldenburg)/Otto III
OTTO III.
The body of Charlemagne was embalmed, clothed in imperial robes and in the cathedral vault a marble throne was built, upon which he sat with all the insignia of royalty, and the tomb was sealed.
Deep lies on garden, street and The silence of the night, squareSave, from th'imperial palace, there Streams forth a sea of light.From open casement swells the sound Of song and wildest laugh; By laden tables gathered round, The wine brimmed glass they quaff!
Where shadows hide the archéd door Gleams forth a sudden light,And tramping o'er the marble floor
Sway out upon the nightWith waving swords and brows aflame A wine-wild reckless band!Each owner of a noble name, But now with boastful handBy their young Sire insanely led They seek a deed of shame,To break the slumber of the dead— Great Emperor, Charlemagne!
Through the old minster marching down Beneath its aisles they halt.The massive walls in silence frown Stern guardians of the vault!Oh this a deed that well might doom A knight; a deed profaneThus to disturb the ancient tomb. Of honored Charlemagne!
But soon upon the time worn walls, Their mortar and their stone,Each sharpened weapon swinging falls, Till; yielding with a groan,The fragments lie beneath their feet, The torches gleam blood red.The knights press on, the deed complete, To face the mighty Dead!From out the gloom a perfume pours An eastern rare perfume! The flick'ring torch still higher soars And fills with light the tomb.
He sits upon the marble throne So sad, so stern, so great!Upon his head the glittering crown, Clothed in his robes of state.The sceptre in his withered hand, The dead eyes seem to glance,As though he still ruled o'er the land, Great Charlemagne of France!
Hush! See the knights are bending low In humbled earnest prayer,Their homage yielding pale they bow Before the greatnesss there!And Otto's haughty form reveals He owns the Kingly power,Out to the midnight air he reels And seals, that very hour,The vault anew; In silent gloom They place each massive stone,And once again, within his tomb, The Emperor sits alone!
But since that awful midnight hour The Emperor Otto seemsDumb from some overshadowing power, And dead to youth's bright dreams. At last in death his eyes grow dim And still each shuddering veinFor through his life it followed him— The glance of Charlemagne!