A noble Count, at Limburg,
Dwelt in the castle fair;
But none of all that sought him
Could ever find him there;
For always he delighted
O'er hill and dale to roam;
Nor threatening storm nor tempest
Could keep him pent at home.

He wore a leathern doublet,
A hat adorned with care
With many a gallant feather,
E'en such as hunters wear.
A drinking-cup of boxwood
He carried at his side;
He was of lofty stature
And walked with rapid stride.

He owned a sturdy courser
And serving-men to boot,
Yet left at home his servants
And roved abroad on foot.
He had but one companion,
A boar-spear stout and long,
Wherewith he lightly bounded
O'er torrents wide and strong.

At Castle Hohenstaufen
The Kaiser then abode;
Who, by gay troops attended,
One day a-hunting rode;
A nimble hind he followed
So hotly and so fast,
That 'mid the tangled forest
From sight of all he passed.

At length he stops exhausted
Beside a fountain cold;
The spot was painted gaily
With blossoms manifold.
Here purposed he to rest him
And slumber by the fount;
When hark! the brushwood rustles —
Before him stands the Count.

At once he 'gan to chide him —
" Meet I my neighbour here?
At home he bides but seldom,
The court he comes not near.
Whoever hopes to catch him
Must roam o'er dale and hill;
And tightly must one hold him,
Else keeps he never still. "

As sat the Count to rest him
In unsuspecting mood,
And in the turf beside him
Drave deep his boar-spear good,
With both his hands the Kaiser
Caught up the pole with speed:
" Thy spear I take as hostage,
Some pledge I sorely need.

This spear, which oft I longed for;
Is mine at last perforce;
For which I here present thee
With this my swiftest horse;
A man like thee should never
Go walking through the wood,
Who, in the chase or warfare,
Might render service good. "

" My liege, I crave thy pardon,
Thou mak'st my heart full sore;
Leave me my life of freedom,
My hunting-spear restore.
I have — indeed — a palfrey,
For thine my thanks are told;
I mean to mount on horseback
When once I'm faint and old. "

" I see 'tis vain to parley
With one so flown with pride;
Yet hold! a cup of box-wood
Thou bearest by thy side;
The chase hath made my thirsty:
Now by thy favour, Count,
A draught would much revive me
From out this sparkling fount. "

At once the Count arises,
And rinses out the cup,
Right to the brim he fills it,
And slowly hands it up.
The Kaiser quaffs with relish
The water cool and fine,
And deems the draught as pleasant
As 'twere the choicest wine.

Then by the hand, half-smiling,
The drinker takes the knight —
" Well hast thou rinsed the beaker
And filled it to the height;
Sweet was the draught thou gavest,
Fresh life it lends, I vow;
Henceforward to thy Kaiser
Lord-Cupbearer art thou! "