In dropping the strophic arrangement, I have of course dropped the extra two syllables which lengthened the fourth line of each strophe. I incline to think that their presence is another indication that the _Lied_ was originally intended, not for reading, but for chanting or recitative, like the older lays on which it was founded. It is a common device of singers thus to lengthen the last line of a verse; it helps to the satisfaction of the ear: but the effect is quite different in reading. As a reviewer in the _Athenæum_ says: "No doubt it is theoretically proper to follow the original form with absolute fidelity, but unfortunately the line in English, or even, for that matter, in Modern German, is very different from the line in Middle High German. It drags grievously, and though it breaks the monotony to a certain extent, and occasionally produces a fine effect, yet more often it is merely irritating." The adoption of the principle laid down by the only English translator who has preserved this peculiarity, that "the very essence of a poem is its exact metrical quality," would at once condemn all translations of { P. xxi} Homer and Virgil into blank or heroic verse, or indeed, into anything but English hexameters, and all translations of the classical drama into anything but trimeter iambics and unrhymed choruses in the impossible metres of the originals--a theory which surely needs only to be stated to expose its untenability. The essence of a poem lies in its spirit more than its formal structure; and whatever jars on the reader, and puts a drag on the swift and easy movement of the verse, so far interferes with his entering into the spirit of that poem.
Many a marvellous story have the ancient singers told Of heroes and their glory and their travail manifold, Of great feasts splendour-flashing that with weeping and wailing ended, Of the thunder of war-waves clashing--in the Lay shall ye hear all blended.
In the Land Burgundian nurtured was a maiden princely of birth; Though ye searched, ye should find none fairer to the uttermost ends of the earth; And her name far-sung was Kriemhild, she was sweeter than speech may tell. Ah, many a valiant champion in battle for her sake fell! There was no man whose pride had warded his breast against love's dart Shot from the eyes victorious, from the snare of many a heart: She was lovely beyond all measure that speech or thought may find, Yea, queenly withal and gracious, a glory of womankind.