My daring speech flow’d readily, Yet ever fairer blossom’d she, And still the beauteous maiden said “Give me thy hope of heaven instead!”
These words fell on me heavily, Then rush’d, like some fierce flowing sea, Down to my spirit’s depth most deep,-- I scarce had power my breath to keep.
There came a band of angels white Graced with a golden halo bright, But wildly follow’d in their track A grisly train of goblins black.
They wrestled with the angels white, And drove away those angels bright, And then the gloomy squadron too Melted like morning mist from view.--
Fain had I died of rapture there, My arms upheld my maiden fair; She nestled near me like a roe, But also wept with bitter woe.
Sweet maiden wept; well knew I why, Her rosy mouth to peace kiss’d I: “O still, sweet love, that tearful flood, “Surrender to my loving mood!
“Surrender to my loving mood!”-- When sudden froze to ice my blood; The earth beneath me groan’d and sigh’d, A yawning chasm open’d wide.
And from the chasm’s gloomy veil Rose the black troop,--sweet love turn’d pale; My arms were of sweet love bereft, And I in solitude was left.
The gloomy troop around me danced In wondrous circle, then advanced, And seized and bore me to the ground, While scornful laughter rose around.
And still the circle narrower grew, And ever humm’d the fearful crew: “Thy hope of heaven was pledg’d by thee, “Thou’rt ours for all eternity!”
Thou now hast the money,--why longer delay? Thou dark scowling fellow, why lingering stay? I sit in my chamber, and patiently wait, And midnight is near, but the bride is still late.
From the churchyard the shuddering breezes arise;-- Ye breezes, O say, has my bride met your eyes? Pale demons come round me, and hard on me press, Make curtsies with grinning, and nod their “O yes!”
Quick, tell me the message you’re coming about, Black villain, in liv’ry of fire trick’d out! My mistress sends word that she soon will be here; In a car drawn by dragons she’ll shortly appear.
Dear grey little man, say, what would’st thou to-day? Dead master of mine, what’s thy business, pray? He gazes upon me with mute mournful mien, Shakes his head, turns away, and no longer is seen.
His tail wags the shaggy old dog, and he whines; All brightly the eye of the black tom-cat shines; The women are howling with long flowing hair,-- Why sings my old nurse my old cradle-song there?