And from all roads which cross the sand,

North, south, and west, in that level land.

It will be a comfortable sight

To see him there by day and by night;

For Roprecht the Robber many a year

Had kept the country round in fear.

So the Friars assisted, by special grace,

With book and bell to the fatal place;

And he was hang’d on the triple tree,

With as much honor as man could be.

In his suit of irons he was hung;

They sprinkled him then, and their psalm they sung;

And turning away when this duty was paid,

They said, “What a goodly end he had made!”

The crowd broke up, and went their way;

All were gone by the close of day;

And Roprecht the Robber was left there

Hanging alone in the moonlight air.

The last who look’d back for a parting sight,

Beheld him there in the clear moonlight;

But the first who look’d when the morning shone;

Saw in dismay that Roprecht was gone.

PART II

The stir in Cologne is greater to-day

Than all the bustle of yesterday;

Hundreds and thousands went out to see;

The irons and chains, as well as he,

Were gone, but the rope was left on the tree.

A wonderful thing! for every one said

He had hung till he was dead, dead, dead,

And on the gallows was seen, from noon

Till ten o’clock, in the light of the moon.

Moreover the Hangman was ready to swear

He had done his part with all due care;

And that certainly better hang’d than he

No one ever was, or ever could be.

Neither kith nor kin, to bear him away,

And funeral rites in secret pay,

Had he; and none that pains would take,

With risk of the law, for a stranger’s sake.

So ’twas thought, because he had died so well,

He was taken away by miracle.

But would he again alive be found?

Or had he been laid in holy ground?

If in holy ground his relics were laid,

Some marvellous sign would show, they said;

If restored to life, a Friar he would be,

Or a holy Hermit certainly,

And die in the odor of sanctity.

That thus it would prove they could not doubt,

Of a man whose end had been so devout;

And to disputing then they fell

About who had wrought this miracle.

Had the Three Kings this mercy shown,

Who were the pride and honor of Cologne?

Or was it an act of proper grace,

From the Army of Virgins of British race,

Who were also the glory of that place?

Pardon, some said, they might presume,

Being a kingly act, from the Kings must come;

But others maintained that St. Ursula’s heart

Would sooner be moved to the merciful part.

There was one who thought this aid divine

Came from the other bank of the Rhine;

For Roprecht there, too, had for favor applied,

Because his birthplace was on that side.

To Dusseldorff then the praise might belong,

And its Army of Martyrs, ten thousand strong;

BuThe for a Dusseldorff man was known,

And no one would listen to him in Cologne,

Where the people would have the whole wonder their own.

The Friars, who help’d him to die so well,

Put in their claim to the miracle;

Greater things than this, as their Annals could tell,

The stock of their merits for sinful men

Had done before, and would do again.

’Twas a whole week’s wonder in that great town,

And in all places, up the river and down;

But a greater wonder took place of it then,

For Roprecht was found on the gallows again!

PART III

With that the whole city flocked out to see;

There Roprecht was on the triple tree,

Dead, past all doubt, as dead could be;

But fresh he was as if spells had charm’d him,

And neither wind nor weather had harm’d him.

While the multitude stood in a muse,

One said, I am sure he was hang’d in shoes!

In this the Hangman and all concurr’d;

But now, behold, he was booted and spurr’d!