Sleepily the young king murmurs: “’Tis a heavy task to reign; “Ah! right gladly would I find me “With my queen at home again!
“In my queen’s arms soft and tender “Calmly rests my kingly head, “And my vast and boundless kingdom “In her dear eyes lies outspread.”
Brighter in the East ’tis growing Through the sun’s soft glimm’ring motion; Far and wide the mountain-summits Float within the misty ocean.
With the speed of wind I’d hasten, If I seven-league boots had only, Over yonder mountain-summits To my darling’s dwelling lonely.
Gently would I draw the curtain From the bed wherein she’s lying, Gently would I kiss her forehead, And her mouth, with rubies vying,
Still more gently would I whisper In her lily-ear so tender: “Think in dreams, we love each other, “And our love will ne’er surrender.”
I Am the princess Ilse, And dwell in Ilsenstein; Come with me to my castle, And there ’midst pleasures be mine.
Thy head I’ll softly moisten With my pellucid wave; Thou shalt forget thine anguish, Poor sorrow-stricken knave!
Within my arms so snowy, Upon my snowy breast, Shalt thou repose, and dream there Of olden legends blest.
I’ll kiss thee and embrace thee, As I embraced and kiss’d The darling Kaiser Henry, Who doth no longer exist.
None live except the living, The dead are dead and gone; And I am fair and blooming, My laughing heart beats on.
And as my heart is beating, My crystal castle doth ring; The knights and maidens are dancing, The squires all-joyfully spring.
The silken trains are rustling, The spurs of iron are worn, The dwarfs beat drum and trumpet, And fiddle and play the horn.
But thee shall my arm hold warmly As Kaiser Henry it held; I held him fast imprison’d, When loudly the trumpet’s note swell’d.
By ocean’s pallid strand Sat I, tormented in spirit and lonely. The sun sank lower and lower, and threw Red glowing streaks upon the water, And the snowy, spreading billows, By the flood hard-press’d, Foam’d and roar’d still nearer and nearer-- A wonderful sound, a whisp’ring and piping, A laughing and murmuring, sighing and rushing, Between times a lullaby-home-sounding singing,-- Methinks I hear some olden tradition, Primeval, favourite legend, Which I erst as a stripling Learnt from the neighbours’ children, When we, on the summer evenings, On the house-door’s steps all cower’d Cosily for quiet talking, With our little hearts all attentive, And our eyes all wisely curious;-- Whilst the bigger maidens, Close by their fragrant flowerpots Sat at the opposite window Rosy their faces, Smiling, illumed by the moon.