"Die Bürgschaft"
A ballad by Friedrich Schiller, 30 August 1798
Translation by Benjamin Maydon, 26 January 2026

Into Dionys, towards the tyrant Möros he sneaks, 
A dagger hidden in his robe;
The gang of hunters find and beat him.
"What would you do with the dagger? Speak!"
The angry man replies darkly.
"To free the city from the tyrant!"
"You shall regret that, upon the cross."

"I am," says the latter, "willing to die
And won't beg for my life,
But will you give me grace?
I beg you for three days.
I will unite my sister with her husband;
I will leave my friend as guarantor:
If I escape, take him, to strangle."

Then the King smiles with wicked cunning
And after a brief hesitation speaks:
"I want to give you three days.
But know this: when the deadline passes,
Before you are given back to me,
He must turn pale instead of you,
But you have been released from the penalty."

And he comes to his friend: "The King obeys,
That I am on the cross with life
To pay the price of the striving wicked.
But he will give me three days
Until I unite my sister with her husband
So you remain my pledge to the King,
Until I come to break the ties."

And the loyal friend hugs him in silence
And he delivers himself to the tyrant;
The other moves away.
And before the third dawn shines
He has quickly united his sister with her husband,
Hurries home with a caring soul
So that he doesn't miss the deadline.

Infinite rain pours down:
The springs fall from the mountains,
And the brooks and the rivers swell.
As he comes to the bank with a travelling staff,
Then the bridge, under the vortex, tears down,
And, thundering, the waves burst
The crashing arch of the vault.

And, desolate, he wanders to the bank's edge
No matter how far he looks and looks
And how far his voice calls and calls
No boat pushes off the safe beach
To carry him to the desired country,
No skipper steers any ferry
And the wild river becomes the sea.

Then he sinks to the bank and weeps and pleads,
His hands raised up to Zeus:
"O stop the raging of the river!
The hours are hurrying towards noon
The sun is sinking, and when it goes down
I won't be able get to town
So my friend must turn pale for me."

But the water's rage grows again,
And wave after wave melts away
And so escape hour after hour.
Then he is driven by fear, and then he takes courage
And throws himself into the roaring tide
And shares with mighty arms
The river, and a God has mercy.

And he wins the bank and hurries away
Giving thanks to the saving God,
Then a robbing gang falls
Out of the forest's nocturnal place,
Blocking the path to him and snorting murder.
They inhibit the wanderer's haste
With a threatening club.

"What do you want?" he cries, pale with horror,
"I have nothing but my life;
I have to give that to the King!"
And snatches the club from the chief:
"For my friend's sake, have mercy!"
And three, with huge thrusts
He kills; the others escape.

And the sun sends out a blazing fire
And with his endless effort
He falls to his knees, exhausted.
"O you have graciously saved me from the hand of robbers;
I was saved from the river to the holy land,
And should I perish here wasting away?
The friend to me, the loving one, will die!"

Listen! There it bubbles, bright as silver,
Very close, like trickling noise,
And he keeps listening quietly.
See! From the rock, chatty, fast,
A living spring jumps out, murmuring,
And he bends down with great relief
And refreshes, cools his burning limbs.

And the sun looks through the green branches
And paints onto the shiny grass carpet
The trees' gigantic shadows;
And he sees two hikers pounding up the road.
He want to flee, but pauses,
Then he hears the words they say:
"Now he will be nailed to the cross."

Now fear gives wings to his flying feet,
Torments of terror chasing him,
There shimmering in evening's red rays
From afar he sees the battlements of Syracuse;
And coming to meet him: noble Philostratus,
The wise and honest keeper of the house.
He recognizes his master; then, in horror:

"Back! You won't save your friend any more,
So just save your own life!
He just suffers death.
He waited from hour to hour
With a hoping soul of your return,
He had such courageous faith in him.
Do not take the tyrant's scorn."

"And is it too late? Can I not save him?
A saviour would appear, welcoming:
That is how death should unite us.
The bloody tyrant should not boast of that,
That one friend broke another's life;
He has slaughtered not one, but two, victims
Who believe in none but love and loyalty."

As the sun goes down, there he stands at the gate
And already sees the cross raised high
Then the crowd stands around, gawking
As his friend is being pulled up on the rope,
Then his voice severely proclaims like a rich choir:
"Me, executioner!" he shouts, "I, also strangled!
Here I am, the one for whom he vouched! "

And astonishment seizes the people all around
Both lie together in each other's arms
And weep with pain, and weep with joy.
One can not see an eye empty of tears
And the miraculous marvel is brought to the King;
He feels a human touch, and both their names
And quickly has them brought to the throne.

He looks in amazement for a long, long time.
Then he says: "You have succeeded in your quest.
You have conquered my heart
And loyalty is not an empty delusion,
So also accept me as a comrade
I would be, if you would grant me the request,
The third in ranking in your noble league."