Der arme Heinrich

As many of you know, I have been laboring this year on my Senior Thesis, a translation and commentary of the 12th-century German poem, Der arme Heinrich, by Hartmann von Aue. I have completed this task, and if you would like to read the finished work, you can download the file in PDF here (right click and select "Save Link As").

Happy reading, and I would love to hear feedback from any of you.

DaH ll. 855-1048: Then went she where did sleep her lord.

Her parents, though yet distressed, are nevertheless won over by the child's wondrous pleas, and she runs early in the morning to greet Sir Heinrich with the news--which, as you can guess, he takes with his own distress. But soon he, too, is won over to the cause, and he prepares the girl for the journey to Salerno. If you are interested, the full Middle High German text can be found here, and an online knowledge database can also be found here.

Once again, any and all feedback is requested and welcomed.

Introduction & lines 1-132
Lines 133-162
Lines 163-232
Lines 233-348
Lines 349-458
Lines 459-542
Lines 543-662
Lines 663-854

855 And when they saw their daughter’s pace
So rushing on to death’s embrace,
And that she with such wisdom spoke
And human bounds of conduct broke,
Together they began to see
860 That wisdom and this reasoned plea
Could ne’er the tongue of children’s speech
Produce or demonstrate or preach.
They did confess that th’ Holy Ghost
Was of her speech the author most,
865 Who also helped Saint Nicholas,
When in the cradle laid he was,
And to him holy wisdom taught
So that he turned to God and brought
His child-like goodness innocent.
870 Their hearts bethought and minds hath kenned,
That they would ne’er nor should they her
From that discourage or deter,
Which burden on herself she’d laid:
From God was come her reason’s aid.
875 With grief their body frigid grew,
When farmer and his wife, the two,
Sat on the bed together, so
That they forgetful were in woe
From of their child love’s charity
880 Of speech and reason’s clarity.
And in that very hour’s spell
Could neither of them speak or tell
A single word, their tongues gone slack.
The spasms then began to rack
885 The mother from her sorrow’s care.
Thus sat the two together there,
Of joy denied, by pain aggrieved,
Until they then by thought perceived,
What use to them was sorrow’s ache:
890 If one could not yet from her take
Her will and her intent away,
Then for them would no goodness pay
As that they not it her refuse,
For surely they could never lose,
895 In better way their daughter leave.
Should they it with ill will receive,
It would bring them with their master
A great amount of displeasure,
And nothing else thereby would find.
900 In willing manner well-inclined
They both then gave assent by voice
That at her plan they did rejoice.

Then joy the maiden pure did take.
When scarcely come was morning’s break,
905 Then went she where did sleep her lord.
Calléd to him his bride adored,
She spoke: “My lord, asleep are ye?”
“Not I, my bride, now tell to me,
How art thou early so this day?”
910 “My lord, beset me doth dismay
And sorrow at your malady.”
He spoke: “My bride, it paineth thee:
This dost thou well me witness cite,
And God shall for it thee requite.
915 But for it can no aid appear.”
“But verily, o lord my dear,
There shall quite well for you be aid.
Since such are matters with you laid,
That help to you can one convey,
920 I’ll let you wait not e’en a day.
My lord, this have ye yet us told,
If ye should have a maiden bold,
Who gladly would death undergo,
She would to you good health bestow.
925 I will by God that virgin be:
Your life hath greater use than me.”
Then did her lord her very much
Give thanks for her intention’s touch,
And filled his eyes around their lid
930 From sorrow’s pain in secret hid.
He spoke: “My bride, indeed is death
Yet not a soft distressing breath,
As hast thou thought in mind unmoved.
Thou hast quite well to me this proved,
935 That if thou couldst, thou wouldst help me.
That is for me enough from thee.
I recognize thy purpose sweet:
Thy will is pure, thy mettle meet.
I ought from thee no more exact.
940 Thou canst for me this not enact,
Of which thou hast here spoken late.
The faith, with which thou dost me rate,
Shall God to thee reward provide.
This would my countrymen deride,
945 Whate’er from this time forth of cure
I should upon myself secure
And which for me should nothing gain,
But as it yet hath been in vain.
My bride, thou doest as children
950 Who are of hasty mind and ken:
Whate’er should come into their mind,
Be't evil or a goodness kind,
They are all quickly to it spurred,
And then regret it afterward.
955 My bride, so also doest thou.
This plan hath thine intention now:
But if one would ‘t from thee collect
So that one should then it perfect,
Then thou wilt yet regret of it.”
960 That she should still bethink a bit
And better yet, beseeched he her.
He spoke: “Thy mother and father,
They cannot well without thee go.
I, too, should not demand their woe,
965 Who have their grace e’er giv’n to me.
Whate’er the two have counseled thee,
So do, my bride belov'd and mild.”
And thereupon at this he smiled,
For little then could he infer,
970 What yet was later to occur.

So spoke the noble man to her.
Her father then and her mother
Did speak: “O lord, our master dear,
Ye have us greatly and sincere
975 Shown friendship and with honour graced:
This would not well be used—a waste—
If we with good you not repay.
Our daughter’s of intention’s way
That she will death for you endure.
980 This we allow her well and sure,
980a So hath she our approval earned.
980b She hath her thought not shortly turned:
This day today, it is the third,
That ceaselessly her plea was spurred,
So that for it we gave her leave.
Now she hath it from us received.
985 Now let through her God health bestow:
We for your sake will her forego.”
Then as his bride did offer him
Her death against his sickness grim,
And one did see her earnestness,
990 There was there suff’ring’s sad distress
And aspect sorrowed and in pain.
And then diverse depression’s strain
Arose among them, grief’s degree,
Between the child and them, the three.
995 Her father and her mother dear
Here hoisted many weeping tear:
Them weeping caused great many woes
For their dear daughter’s death's repose.
Now, too, her lord began to weigh
1000 And further think in such a way
On this, the child’s devotion true,
And misery besieged him, too,
That he began to weep severe,
And doubted much, of this unclear,
1005 Whether it better were begun
Or if it should be left undone.
From fear the maid, too, wept her plaint:
She though his courage lost and faint.
So were they all of joy denied.
1010 The plan of none could none abide.

At last their lord then fixèd firm
His mind, poor Heinrich the infirm,
And then began he to express
To them, the three, his thankfulness
1015 For loyalty and good bestowed,
(The maid—her spirits overflowed,
That gladly in the plan he shared),
And for Salerno he prepared
As fast as he could see to it.
1020 Whate’er, too, did the maid befit
Made ready was at quickened pitch:
A pretty mare and clothing rich,
With which she ne’er before had dressed.
‘Twas ermine, samite, sable best,
1025 Indeed the best that one could find,
The raiment of the maiden kind.

Now who could tell in full extent
The heartache and the cruel lament,
The mother’s shocking, sharp duress,
1030 And, too, the father’s deep distress?
It would indeed for them have been
A wretched, woeful parting keen,
When they had let their dear child go
Away to death, yet healthy so,
1035 And then to see her nevermore,
Except that softened was their sore
Distress by God’s pure goodness kind,
From which indeed the heart and mind
Came to the child so young to know,
1040 That gladly would she death’s way go.
And it had come without their say:
Therefore from them was put away
Ev’ry distress and sorrow’s plea,
For otherwise would wondrous be,
1045 That broken not were they in heart.
To joy was turned their troubled part,
So that they suffered no distress
Then at their daughter’s death’s oppress.

DaH ll. 663-854: I must myself to God ordain

The maiden responds to her parents' pleas, offering both practical and theological arguments to support her decision to sacrifice herself, including a beautiful comparison of life in Heaven with life on their farm. If you are interested, the full Middle High German text can be found here, and an online knowledge database can also be found here.

Once again, any and all feedback is requested and welcomed.

Introduction & lines 1-132
Lines 133-162
Lines 163-232
Lines 233-348
Lines 349-458
Lines 459-542
Lines 543-662

“In thee, O mother, I believe
And father mine, that I receive
665 From you all grace’s loving pure,
With which a father and mother
Their child should grant, afford, and grace,
As have I found to be the case
From you at ev’ry passing day.
670 For have I by your grace’s way
My soul and a fine body fair.
Me man and woman praised declare,
All they who catch a sight of me,
That I the fairest child be
675 That in their lives they’ve seen so fine.
To whom should I the grace assign,
But to you two, though after God?
So ought I by your order’s prod
E’er gladly stand, abiding true.
680 How great my duty is thereto!
O mother, blessèd woman thou,
Because my soul and body now
Have I from your grace’s present,
So let it be with your consent
685 That I may cut them both away,
Removèd from the Devil’s sway,
And must myself to God ordain.
Yea, ‘tis the life of this world’s reign
None other than the soul’s privation.
690 The worldly pleasure’s strong temptation
Hath not as yet upon me borne,
Which leadeth hence to Hell-fire’s scorn.
Now shall I God give thanks and praise
That He hath in my young, short days
695 For me good sense of mind affirmed,
That I this languid life infirm
Regard of very small concern.
So will I, pure, myself return
And to the pow’r of God succumb.
700 I fear, should agèd I become,
That me worldly seduction sweet
Would drag and tear beneath her feet,
As hath she pulled so many strayed,
Whom, too, her sweetness hath betrayed;
705 So simply would be God denied.
To Him it must be ever sighed
That I should live to see the morn.
No comfort found, this world I scorn.
Its comfort is a hardship great,
710 Its greatest joy a sorrow’s weight,
Its sweet reward a bitter woe,
Its lengthy life death’s sudden blow.
We’ve nothing else more sure than so:
Today success and ‘morrow woe
715 And in the end e’er death’s oppress:
This is a wretched, grim distress.
No aid from birth, nor goods’ defense,
Nor beauty, strength, high spirits’ sense;
The virtues and high honour aid
720 No more against dark death’s cold shade
Than lowly birth and vice uncouth.
Our life and our so vital youth
Is but the dust and shadows brief;
Our firmness trembleth as a leaf.
725 He is a fool, queer and perverse,
Who doth himself in smoke immerse,
Be it a man or woman then,
Who cannot this bethink and ken
And climbeth up the worldly rung,
730 For o’er the stinking, rotten dung
Is spread for us the costly silk.
Whome’er this dazzle now doth bilk,
He is to Hell’s hot furnace born
And hath no less than this forlorn:
735 His body and his soul above.
Be mindful, blessed woman, of
Your mother’s promised loyalty
And soften now your sorrow’s plea,
Which have ye now for mine own sake.
740 So, too, my father thought doth take:
I know he willeth my health’s part.
He is a man so ably smart
That well doth he discern, that ye
Cannot for long have yet with me
745 Your joy divine and gladness main,
E’en if I yet alive remain.
Abide I without husband here
With you for two or e’en three year,
Then is my master likely dead
750 And come we in distress so dread
By poverty’s quite easy way,
That ye could not such dowry pay
To any man for me enough,
That I must live so poorly rough
755 That ye would rather I be dead.
But let us not speak of such dread,
Such that be us no trouble’s fear
And with us should my lord so dear
Extend his stay and so long live,
760 ‘Till one me to a man could give,
Who wealthy be and noble fit:
Then hath it been as wish ye it
And hope for me well should it be.
Else hath my mind advisèd me.
765 Be he my dear, this is distress;
Be he my sorrow, death’s oppress:
So always have I suff’ring’s blight
And am complete with hardship’s plight
Cut off from comfort’s easy type
770 By matters of a many stripe
That trouble women and dismay
And lead them from their joys astray.
Now me that full provision lend,
Which there ne’er cometh to an end.
775 A Farmer Free doth for me yearn,
To Whom I well my life return.
Indeed, to Him ye should me give,
Thus well supported shall I live.
His plow is very light to pull,
780 His house of all supply is full.
There neither horse nor cattle die,
There troubleth none the children’s cry,
There not too warm and not too cold,
There none become of long years old
785 (Become the aged younger still),
There neither frost nor hunger shrill,
There none of any kind of pain,
There ev’ry joy without the strain.
To Him will I myself outstretch
790 And flee from such a farm, the wretch,
Which hail and thunderstorm doth beat
And wash away doth flooding fleet,
With which we fight and e’er have fought.
Whate’er a man through long year’s lot
795 Can struggle for and lay away,
‘Tis lost in but a half a day.
This farm, I will leave it behind:
It be by me cursed and maligned.
Ye love me—that is decorous.
800 Now shall I gladly see it thus,
That your love be not love’s offence.
If ye can with right mindful sense
Discern my case and with your wit,
And if ye grant me and permit
805 Possessions and the honour’s trim,
Then let me turn myself to Him,
To Jesus Christ, Our Lord and Aid,
Whose grace is so steadfastly laid,
That it no end doth e’er endure,
810 And, too, hath He for me, though poor,
A love as great and as serene
As hath He for a high-born queen.
I should by mine own fault’s offense
Out of your favour’s countenance
815 Ne’er come, God will it and God speed.
‘Tis surely his command decreed
That I be subject you unto
Because I have my life from you:
This render I without regret.
820 My loyalty I should not yet
Transgress, which to myself I owe.
I’ve always heard the saying go:
Whoe’er doth so another glad
That he himself becometh sad,
825 And who with praise doth other crown
And his own honour deep doth drown,
His staunchness be too great indeed.
How much I will for you this heed,
That you I loyalty afford,
830 But most of all myself accord!
Will ye from me salvation steal,
Then would I rather let you feel
Awhile for me the flowing tear
Than that that be in me unclear,
835 Which to myself in charge I owe.
I always thither will to go
Where I shall joy in fullness find.
Ye have indeed more children kind:
Let them your joy and flower be
840 And comfort you because of me.
Not one can bar me or impede:
To health I verily will lead
Myself and my lord master dear.
Yea, mother, I before did hear
845 Thee speaking and lamenting so,
‘Twould cause thy heart great pain and woe,
Shouldst thou stand o’er my earthy tomb.
Thou wouldst be free yet of such doom:
Above my grave thou standest not,
850 For where I meet my death, my lot,
To see that none will suffer thee:
‘Twill happen in Salerno’s lee.
852a There shall this death release us four
852b From ev’ry kind of suff’ring sore.
Through this, my death, be saved will we,
And I far better still than ye.”

DaH ll. 543-662: Thou wilt yet to us both bequest...

After waking her parents with her tears, the girl is scolded by them, but she will not be silenced. Her impassioned plea, however, is met with her mother's heart-wrenching response (mothers: keep the tissues handy for this one). If you are interested, the full Middle High German text can be found here, and an online knowledge database can also be found here. Also of note is the odd numbering at the end of the passage: it's the result of a new manuscript that was found after the original critical edition had been established; rather than renumber the poem (which would cause havoc, since all of the old references are keyed to the old lines numbers), the editors simply added the lines in as a, b, etc.

Once again, any and all feedback is requested and welcomed.

Introduction & lines 1-132
Lines 133-162
Lines 163-232
Lines 233-348
Lines 349-458
Lines 459-542

They turned about to her to see
And said, “See here, what troubleth thee?
545 Quite foolish art thou in excess,
That on thy self such great distress
Of such lament thou didst impend,
Which no man can bring to an end.
Why willst thou not us sleep allow?”
550 So they began to scold her now:
What good to her were such lament
Which no man could yet then prevent,
Avert, abolish, or defeat?
So thought they that the maiden sweet
555 Again was silenced and was still.
Unknown to them then was her will.
So answered them the maiden bold:
“As hath my lord the story told,
So can one heal quite well his pain.
560 Forsooth, ‘less ye will me restrain,
So am I good to be his cure.
I am a maid, my will is sure.
Before I see him cease to live,
I will my life first for him give.”
565 Then were by these words and review
Her mother and her father, too,
Dejected, saddened, and distraught.
His daughter he bid and besought
That she would leave her story’s word
570 And promise only to her lord
That, which for him she could secure,
For this could not be done by her.
“O daughter, thou art but a child,
And thy grand promises are wild
575 And in this matter far too grand.
This canst thou not achieve as planned,
As hast thou here to us portrayed.
On death hast thou thine eyes not laid.
Whene’er the time is come for thee,
580 That from it there no freedom be,
Thou must succumb to death’s long reign,
And couldest thou it then attain,
Thou would’st yet rather keep life whole:
Ne’er would’st thou come in worser hole.
585 Now close thy mouth, this speech be gone!
And if thou wilt from this time on
E’er more this utterance allow,
It shall be felt upon thy brow.”
So he believed that then was she
590 By both his threats and ev’ry plea
To silence brought: but he could not.
His daughter answered him this lot:
“Howe’er young be I, father mine,
Retain I yet the insight fine,
595 That I the pain from teller’s breath
Well fathom that the body’s death
Is sharp, severe, and quite intense.
Whoe’er yet then a long time hence
Should live with hardships light or fell,
600 For him it, too, is not so well;
For when he struggleth here along
And beareth in his old years long
With great distress his body slow,
Then must he death yet undergo.
605 Then if his soul is lost, forlorn,
So were he better left unborn.
Up to this point have come my days,
For which I will e’er God give praise,
That I can now my young life give,
610 That I might life eternal live.
Ye ought not now my task to still.
For both myself and you I will
Thereby exceeding good collect.
Alone can I us well protect
615 From harm and suffering and pain,
As shall I now to you explain.
We have now goods and honour’s side:
This doth our lord’s intent provide,
For ne’er caused he us injury
620 And ne’er from us took property.
So long as he should stay alive,
So shall our situation thrive.
And if we let him die away,
So must we perish and decay.
625 I will protect him for our sake
With this pure act, which I shall make,
By which we all are saved from woe.
Permit me this: it must be so.”
Her mother spoke with crying raw
630 When she her daughter’s staidness saw:
“Remember child, my daughter dear,
How great my pains and how severe,
Which I have suffered for thy sake,
And let me better reward take
635 Than have I heard thee here explain.
Thou wilt mine heart sever in twain.
Subdue a bit for me thy call.
Yea, wilt thou thy salvation all
Against God and for us remit?
640 Why dost thou not recall his writ?
Yea, bade he, ordered, and he taught
That mother and to father ought
One render love and honour earned,
And promised, too, this in return,
645 That soul’s salvation would there be
And life on earth of long degree.
Thou would’st thy life, as sayest thou,
For both our joy give and allow:
Thou wilt yet to us both bequest
650 A life of deep distress unblest.
Thy father and I happily
Live when ‘tis for the sake of thee.
652a What good to us are goods and life,
652b What good are worldly pleasures rife,
652c When thou dost not with us remain?
652d Thou ought not bring us grief and pain.
Yea, should’st thou, lovely daughter mine,
Be for us both our joy divine,
654a Our love without sharp suff’ring’s care,
654b Our eyes’ refulgent, brilliant flare;
655 Be of our lives a dear delight,
Among thy kin a flower sprite,
In our old age the staff of love.
But if thou lettest us above
Thy grave of thy transgressions stand,
660 Thou must from grace of God’s right hand
Be e’er cut off and disavowed:
For both of us this earnest thou.
662a If, daughter, good wilt thou us be,
662b Then thou should’st from thy story flee
662c And thy intent for our Lord’s grace,
662d The story which I’ve heard thee trace.”

Der arme Heinrich, ll. 459-542

After Heinrich's lament to the farmer and his wife, the daughter reacts (more tears). If you are interested, the full Middle High German text can be found here, and an online knowledge database can also be found here.

Once again, any and all feedback is requested and welcomed.

Introduction & lines 1-132
Lines 133-162
Lines 163-232
Lines 233-348
Lines 349-458

What with her father he had shared,
460 That heard the maiden pure and fair,
Because that girl so very sweet
Had of her lord most dear the feet
Lying across her lap with care.
Once could indeed and well compare
465 Her innocent child’s quality
To the kind angels’ purity.
Of his story took she good heed
And marked and noted it indeed:
Ne’er left it from her heart, its deep,
470 E’en ‘till she went that night to sleep,
When at her father’s feet she lay,
Her mother’s too, as was her way.
When both had fallen into sleep,
Many a sigh and gasping deep
475 She from her inner heart outpoured.
For the sharp suff’ring of her lord
So great was her sorrowful pain
That from her eyes did break a rain
Upon her sleeping parents’ feet.
480 So them awoke the maiden the sweet.
And when they felt the wet tears fall,
Awoke they and began to call
And ask her what was happening
And of what kind of sorrowing
485 She could so secretly lament.
To tell them was she hesitant.
But when her father made and set
A very many pleas and threats,
That she must answer them quickly,
490 She spoke: “Ye should lament with me.
What more can do us harm greater
Than on account of our master,
That we should lose him to the grave
And with him sacrifice and waive
495 Both good honour and our demesne?
And we shall ne’er receive again
Another lord of such good weal
Who may with us as doth he deal.”
They spoke: “O daughter, right hast thou.
500 But not a bit us helpeth now
Our sorrow and our great lament.
Dear child, of this be thou silent!
‘Tis us as painful as to thee.
But sadly yet now cannot we
505 Come to his aid in any way.
‘Tis God hath taken him away:
Had any other soul this done,
He would from us our curse have won.”
Thus did they then her voice detain.
510 That night despondent she remained
And all the day that followéd.
Whate’er anyone other did,
Ne’er left this from her heart, his plight,
Until she went in the next night
515 To sleep as was her custom's way.
When she had down her body laid
In the old place in bed she knew,
Prepared she yet a bath and drew
It from her weeping eyes’ outpour:
520 Because in secret hid she bore
So deeply in her heart’s recess
The greatest and utmost goodness
That e’er have I of child heard fame.
What child would, too, e’er act the same?
525 To this herself committed she:
Should she again the morning see,
That she her life in one accord
Would give for the sake of her lord.
Then at this notion was she made
530 Of easy heart and cheery grade
And had no more a worry’s bane,
Except a fear that did her pain:
If she would to her lord confess,
That he would draw back in distress,
535 And when she should then to all three
Her plan reveal, that in them she
Would find no ready tolerance,
That one would not it countenance.
Therefore was her distress so great
540 That was her mother by its weight
And was her father roused to light
Just as on the foregoing night.

Der arme Heinrich, ll. 349-458

This next batch has some tear-jerking, at least on Heinrich's part. If you are interested, the full Middle High German text can be found here, and an online knowledge database can also be found here.

Once again, any and all feedback is requested and welcomed.

Introduction & lines 1-132
Lines 133-162
Lines 163-232
Lines 233-348

Her service was good and benign.
350 And when Heinrich, poor and maligned,
Three years in that place had remained,
And God his body had much pained
With great suff’ring of soul and life,
Now sat the peasant and his wife
355 And the maiden, their daughter young,
Of whom I’ve you already sung,
By him in their activity
And did their lord’s suff’ring pity.
Lament caused them a great distress:
360 Because they feared his death’s progress
Should greatly them harm and molest
And should completely them divest
Of property and good honour,
And that of a stricter temper
365 A single other lord would be.
They long did think and so deeply,
Until that very farming man
In such a way to ask began.
“My master dear and lord,” spoke he,
370 “And may it with your favour be,
I would like most to ask you this:
Though in Salerno there exist
A many master doctors smart,
How cometh it, that they no art
375 For your infirm and sickly pest
Could offer, counsel, or suggest?
My lord, this doth my awe excite.”
Then gave Heinrich, the woeful knight,
Deep from his heart a heavy sigh
380 With bitter pain and woe, a cry:
Then spoke he with such sorrow’s quake
That his words with the sigh did break:
“I have this shameful dishonour
Deserved from God, quite well and sure.
385 For well thou sawest then before,
That wide and open stood my door
To pleasure, that most worldly sin.
And that no man among his kin
His wishes more than I could fill:
390 And that was quite impossible,
For I completely had my way.
Then I of Him no heed did pay,
Who had that same life wishful giv’n
To me by His great grace in Heav’n.
395 And so then stood the heart of me,
As do they all, the fools worldly,
To whom their minds expostulate
That they honour and great estate
Could without God have and achieve.
400 So, too, my fool’s hope me deceived,
Since I took little note of Him
By grace of Whom the honour’s trim
And great estate I did posses.
When this, my pride, much in excess
405 Seemed to the high Gate Keeper hard,
The happy gates to me He barred.
Alas, I come through them no more:
My foolishness from me that tore.
God hath in vengeance on me laid
410 A sickness of such pitchèd grade,
Which no man can correct or save.
Contemnèd now am I by knaves,
The noble men no heed me show.
Who seeth me, how’er be low,
415 Yet lower still must I then be.
His scorn to me clear maketh he:
He casteth eyes away from me.
Now clear it is e’er first with thee
Thy loyalty true, which thou hast,
420 To wit, thou lettest my pale cast
By thee and from me ne’er flyest.
E’en though thou me not eschewest,
Though but to thee I’m no one dear,
Though on me hangeth thy life’s cheer,
425 Thou would’st well bear my death’s oppress.
Now whose unworth and whose distress
Was in the world e’er more deplored?
Before this time I was thy lord
And I am thy poor beggar now.
430 My dear, dear friend, now earnest thou,
And, too, my bride and with thy wife,
Because of me eternal life,
For me, though ill, thou lettest stay.
To that which thou hast bid me say,
435 I tell thee gladly what was wrought.
While at Salerno, I could not
A solitary master find
Who to himself my cause would bind
Or even dare to undertake.
440 For that by which I should partake
Of healing – my disease’s cure –
Must be a thing of such nature
That in this world no single man
With any means procure it can.
445 None else but his was me expressed,
But that I must a girl possess,
That is, a fully nubile maid
Whose will indeed were fully staid,
That she for me would life depart
450 And one would cut right to her heart;
And nothing else were for me good
Except that maiden girl’s heart blood.
Impossible to great degree
That any for the sake of me
455 Now gladly would death undergo!
So must I shameful torment’s woe
Endure ever unto my end.
That God would it to me soon send!”

Der arme Heinrich, ll. 233-348

Now that the semester is over and I'm on break, I've had plenty of time to catch up on the translation, so the installments will be coming long and fast in the coming weeks. If you are interested, the full Middle High German text can be found here, and an online knowledge database can also be found here.

Once again, any and all feedback is requested and welcomed.

Introduction & lines 1-132
Lines 133-162
Lines 163-232

Now dawned it Heinrich pitiable
That it were quite impossible
235 That anyone could one supply
Who would for him willingly die.
So was from him that comfort ripped
In hope of which he had there tripped;
And from that very moment’s bane,
240 No thought of cure did he retain,
Of hope not e’en a single part.
At this the sorrow of his heart
Became so powerful and great
That ‘twas of all for him the weight
245 That he must long persist to live.
Return’d home he began to give
His assets and his own estate,
As his mind did deliberate
And wise advice did him present,
250 Whither his wealth might best be spent.
He began with wise donations
To enrich his poor relations;
To strangers poor aid, too, he lent,
That God His mercy might consent
255 To save his soul and make it blest:
To Holy Houses fell the rest.
So did he yield and abdicate
All of his former rich estate
Except a single farmer’s lands:
260 He thither fled from social bands.
This woeful, wretched circumstance
Bore not just his lamenting glance:
For him did all the land give moan,
Wherein that cursèd knight was known,
265 And, too, in foreign lands the cry,
Which knew him by repute’s reply.
The one who first and even still
Did this cleared farmer’s parcel till –
He was a peasant farmer free
270 Who ne’er did struggle with any
Oppressive, heavy hardship great,
Such as is other farmers’ fate,
Who worse were ruled and masteréd
And whom their lords hat not sparéd
275 From tax and ev’ry levy grave.
Whate’er this farmer freely gave,
This seemed sufficient to his lord:
And more, his lord did guard afford
That he hath suffered no distress
280 From foreign powers, or duress.
And so there was par to his pitch,
None in that land, not one so rich.
Retired he to the farmer’s board,
The poor Heinrich, the peasant’s lord.
285 Then of whate’er he had him spared,
How well it now was him repaired
And what delight from it received!
For very little him aggrieved,
Whate’er for his sake he endured.
290 He was loyal, of purpose sure,
That willingly he suffered yet
The burden and the trouble’s sweat
Which fell to him to undergo:
He tended him in comfort so.
295 God to the farmer by His grace
Had giv’n a pure life by his place.
A well-worked body hard had he
And a well-working wife sturdy,
And children had he too, handsome,
300 Which joy indeed of man become,
And had, or so I’ve heard it sung,
Among them one, a maiden young,
A child, her age of eight [twelve] years bright:
She could behave in manner right
305 According to affection’s way.
Ne’er wished she then to go away
Even a foot’s breadth from her lord.
For his favor and his kind word,
So served she him e’er ev’rywhere
310 With her affection’s kindly care.
She was so charmingly fair, too,
That she would be well fitted to
The Emperor’s very own child
In her excelling beauty mild.
315 The others had the sense of mind
That they in proper measure’s kind
Well could at distance from him stay:
But she, she flew in night and day
To him only and ne’er elsewhere.
320 She was his occupation fair.
She had so much her heart’s kindness
With that child-like and pure goodness
Devoted e’er to her lord’s care,
That one would always find her there,
325 Sitting attentive at his feet.
With much activity most sweet
She e’er attended her lord’s right.
In her he, too, took great delight,
By any means with which he could,
330 And what became the maiden good,
Becoming to her children’s play,
Of that her lord to her conveyed.
‘Twas of great help, that also she
Accustoméd so easily.
335 He won for her, whate’er for sale:
A mirror and hairs’ ribbons’ tails,
And whate’er children should delight,
A belt and rings for fingers slight.
Attending brought he her to grow,
340 That she became close to him so,
That he called her by name his bride.
The maiden good let him a stride
Remain in solitude never:
He seemed to her completely pure.
345 Howe’er strongly they might move her,
The gifts child-like and immature,
What made her love it all the more
By God’s gift was a sweeter core.

Der arme Heinrich, ll. 163-232

Here is the next installment of my translation of this poem. If you are interested, the full Middle High German text can be found here, and an online knowledge database can also be found here.

Any and all feedback is requested and welcomed.

Introduction & lines 1-132
Lines 133-162

A bit yet took he of good cheer
For yet a comfort did appear:
165 For oft to him it had been said
That this same sickliness so dread
Was very varied and diversed
And sometimes curably reversed.
And so a many were the kind
170 Of hopes and thoughts about his mind.
He thought himself, that he could be
But curable, just possibly,
And set he out without delay
To seek advice at Montpellier,
175 The counsel of the doctors there.
But quickly he became aware
Of nothing more than deep despair
That never would he health repair.
This news took he not happily
180 And to Salerno journeyed he
And sought there too for healing’s pow’r
The wisest doctors’ art to scour.
The master whom he found there best
Forthwith gave answer to his quest
185 A strange, remarkable story
That curable indeed were he
Yet ever would remain uncured.
He said: “How can that be? Your word
And speech is quite impossible.
190 If cure there is, so shall I heal:
Whate’er on me will be enjoined
Of hardest work or cost and coin,
So that I trust to bring about.”
“Now give ye up such hoping stout,”
195 The master then yet answer gave,
“In this way is your sickness grave:
(To what avail to tell you this?)
A remedy belongs to this
Through which you could again be healthy.
200 But yet there is no man so wealthy
Or of such mind of strong intent
That he could make th’ achievement.
So sickly will ye e’er remain,
But God to be a doctor deign.”
205 Then poor Sir Heinrich answeréd:
“Why leave ye me so dejectéd?
Indeed have I wealth’s greater part:
Unless ye would your master art
And your own doctor’s oath forsake,
210 And even more refuse to take
My precious silver and my golden,
I shall make you to me beholden,
That gladly will ye cure my ill.”
“‘Tis not an hindrance of my will,”
215 Said yet the master in reply,
“And were there of such cure supply
That one could find it bought or sold
Or that one could by giving gold
Or any other means attain,
220 I would not suffer you to wane.
But none of this can sadly be.
So of my help and aid must ye
Be of necessity denied.
A virgin must ye have, a bride,
225 That is, a fully nubile maid
Whose will indeed were fully staid,
That she for you would death’s way go.
‘Tis not the people’s custom so,
That any, willing, would it do.
230 Requir’d be nothing else thereto
Except the heartblood of a maid:
‘Twould be your ailing’s only aid.”

Der arme Heinrich, ll. 133-62

Here is the next batch of lines from my continuing efforts to translate this poem. An introduction, together with the first 132 lines, may be found here. If you are interested, the full Middle High German text can be found here, and an online knowledge database can also be found here.

Any and all feedback is requested and welcomed.

And when the dear Sir Heinrich poor
First hit upon that fact so sore,
135 That he the world did horrify,
As all they do who likely lie,
Then did his bitter suff’ring mark
Him diff’rent from Job’s patience stark.
For Job the Good did suffer it
140 With patient resolution fit,
When he the torment underwent
For peace of soul and betterment
The gross disease and dishonour,
Which from the world he did endure:
145 Rejoice did he and praisèd God.
But sadly did poor Heinrich not
In any manner likewise act:
So sad was he, and joy he lacked.
His soaring heart now stopped and sunk,
150 His floating joy now drowned and drunk,
His arrogance now had to fall,
His honey changèd into gall.
A dark and louring thunder quake
Did in the midst of his day break,
155 A darksome shade of cloudy night
Hath blotted out his sunny light.
Quite heavily did he lament
That he so many honourments
Had to forsake and leave behind.
160 Accursèd, damnèd, and maligned
Oft was that day, beshrewed of mirth,
That day whereon did lie his birth.

Der arme Heinrich, ll. 1-132

As some of you may know, for my Senior Thesis I am writing an English verse translation of the late 12^th-century German didactic poem Der arme Heinrich by Hartmann von Aue, accompanied by a commentary. As I complete the translation of each chunk of the poem, I have decided to post each one here so that you can read them and give me feedback on them.

But first, some background. German vernacular literature experienced its first great Blütezeit in the period between ca. 1150 and ca. 1250, that is, under the Hohenstaufen dynasty of Friedrich Barbarossa and his successors. This period of literary output, all centered on the courtly society of the High Middle Ages, was to go unmatched in Germany until the Enlightenment under the likes of Goethe and Schiller and saw the production of such literary masterpieces as Das Nibelunglied, Tristan by Gottfried von Strassburg, and Parzival by Wolfram von Eschenbach. Two principle genres flourished under the patronage of the courts: Lieder, that is, songs; and works of epic. The Lieder were further categorized according to topic: political; courtly love, called minne; and Christian songs, especially focused on the Crusades, called Kreuzzuglieder.

One of the great poets of this period was Hartmann von Aue (ca. 1160 – post 1210). Hartmann was an accomplished poet in both of these genres; his epic works (Erec and Iwein) are especially notable for, as adaptations of the Arthurian romances of Chretien de Troyes, a French poet of the previous generation, they introduced the Arthurian romance to Germany. In addition to his epic romances and his Lieder, Hartmann wrote three other works: Gregorius, an epic, mediaeval Christian Oedipus tale; Diu Klage, a lamentatio on the nature of minne; and Der arme Heinrich. At 1520 lines, Der arme Heinrich is far longer than any Lied, yet far shorter than his epics, e.g. Erec at over 10,000 lines. Furthermore, the subject matter of Der arme Heinrich is unique among extant literature of any author from this period. It is the story of a great knight, Heinrich, who excelled in every aspect of knightly virtue, in youth, loyalty, good breeding, charity: in a word, honor. His pride in these virtues, however, became excessive, and God punished him accordingly: Heinrich was made a leper. The story follows his journey as he falls from grace and searches for a cure: according to the doctors, only the beating heart of a virgin willingly sacrificed can cure him. Such a girl is found in the most unexpected of places, but Heinrich loves her too much to allow her to make the sacrifice; in the end, their devout love for each other saves them both. In some ways a mediaeval take on the story of Job, it is both a theodicy and a presentation of mortal moral strictures. It explores the conflicts between a mediaeval courtly society that values virtues of honor and pride, and a Christian call, omnipresent in that same society, to humility. While other works of the day, most notably perhaps Parzival, also deal with this dichotomy, Der arme Heinrich is unique in that it does not fashion itself within the romance epic genre. It is, rather, a didactic poem fashioned in the form of a prayer; the poem begins and ends with an exhortation to the reader to (1) pray to God for the soul of the poet and (2) to use this poem as a didactic tool in living a moral life. In this way, it serves as perhaps the most striking example of the intersection of secular and sacred in this period of High Mediaeval courtly literature.

I present you now the first chunk of the translated text; if you are interested, the full Middle High German text can be found here, although it is not fully accurate to the most recent critical edition (which I am using); an online knowledge database can also be found here (it includes linear translation/grammar and context dictionaries).

A knight there once was so learnèd,
That in all of the books he read
What’er he found scribed thereupon:
And callèd was his name Hartmann,
5 Vassal was he to Aue’s lord.
Many a glance took he toward
Varied volumes, some thick, some thin.
And he began to search therein,
If anything he might reveal
10 With which woeful times into weal
He might fashion, rough into silk,
And it would be of such an ilk
It would with God’s glory accord
And that therewith he might afford
15 Himself among the folk loved well.
Now he begins ye to retell
A tale, one which composed he found.
Therefore hath he his name made sound,
Lest he for his toiling passion,
20 Which he for it did so fashion,
Be from his great reward deprived,
And whoe’er after him hath lived,
Should read it or hear someone say,
That he for him might ever pray
25 To God hence for his soul’s probate.
They say he is his own legate
And doth thereby himself set free,
Whoe’er doth pay other’s sins’ fee.
He read that selfsame story’s word,
30 Of how there was a noble lord
Enthroned in Swabia, his seat:
For whom ne’er was any of meet
Virtue forgotten which is right
That in his youthful prime a knight
35 Should for complete esteem possess.
Then one did none so well address
In ev’ry corner of the lands.
He held quite fast in his own hands
Earthly power and noble birth:
40 His virtues, too, were of great girth.
Howe’er replete was his table,
Howe’er his birth impeccable
And well equal to princes’ pitch,
Not nearly ne’ertheless so rich
45 In lineage and property
As in bearing and dignity.
Far ev’rywhere wide was his fame:
Sir Heinrich was he called by name,
To Aue Manor was he born.
50 His noble heart hath e’er forsworn
Deceit and all ill-manner coarse
And to the oath hath held with force
Until his end steadfast perfect.
Without any stain or defect
55 His way of life and bloodline stood.
To him was giv’n all that one could
Wish of worldly honouring praise:
And this he knew how well to raise
With ev’ry kind of virtue clear.
60 He was of youth a flower dear,
A mirror of the joy earthly,
A diamond of fast loyalty,
A complete crown of good breeding.
He was refuge of those needing,
65 A buckler of all his kinsmen,
Of bounty a balance even:
Neither in want nor in excess.
He bore the burdensome oppress
Of all honour upon his back.
70 He was counsel’s connecting track
And sang full well of love a lay.
And so could he win in this way
The world’s great praise, glory, respect.
He was courtly and circumspect.
75 And when the noble Heinrich lord
Engaged himself so much toward
Trappings, honour, glory, esteem
And spirits that with joy do teem
And pleasure of the earthly sphere
80 (He did before his ev’ry peer
Receive honour and greatest praise),
Transformed now were his prideful ways
Into a humble life lowest.
In him was it made manifest,
85 As, too, with Absalom’s story,
That the haughty crown’s vainglory
Of ev’ry worldly pleasure sweet
Doth fall by far beneath the feet
From its exceeding high grandeur,
90 As telleth us Holy Scripture.
In one passage there doth it say:
Media vita
In morte sumus.
And this may be renderèd thus,
95 That hover we in death’s dark nest
When we think we live all the best.
This firmness of the worldly clime,
Its strong steadfastness and its prime
And its greatest power mighty:
100 It is beyond our mastery.
This in a candle can we see
Example happen verily,
That into ashes doth it turn
E’en while it doth a bright light burn.
105 We are of brittle substance made.
Come now, see how our smile doth fade
With flowing tears extinguishèd.
Our dulcet pleasure is mixèd
With bitterest acidic gall.
110 Our flower blossoming must fall
When it most verdant doth appear.
This in Sir Heinrich was so clear:
Whoe’er in highest station’s worth
Doth live upon this very earth,
115 He is ‘fore God a reprobate.
Down fall did he by God’s mandate
From his exceeding high grandeur
Into a despisèd dolour:
Of him did leprosy take hold.
120 When they God’s scourge e’er did behold,
The hard penalty corporal,
To man and woman general
Became he then quite repugnant.
Now see how charming and pleasant
125 He was to the world in the past,
And now become so foully cast
126a To hay his once green grass changed o’er,
126b Who one time the world’s banner bore.
That none gladly on him did glance:
As, too, it was Job’s circumstance,
That man, so rich and so noble,
130 Who, so wretched and so woeful,
Became a foul dung-hill’s portion
In the midst of his life’s fortune.