I'd have dared a thousand deaths ere ever
It falls!--there is a shriek of lamentation
They're stilled--the noblest hearts within the
The noblest heads lie bleeding on the ground.
Years have passed since that fatal scene of dying,
In their coffins still those severed heads are lying,
Oh! they preach to us, those still and pallid
Those pale lips yet implore us from their graves
To strive for our birthright as God's creatures,
|A fair witch crept to a young man's side,
And he kiss'd her and took her for his bride.
But a Shape came in at the dead of night,
A thing more frightful than mouth may say.
And he rose in haste, and follow'd the Shape
And he girded himself and follow'd still,
But, mocking and thwarting, clung to his side,
|O where are you going so early? he said;
And there's the path in the grass for me,
|I once was guest at a Nobleman's wedding;
Fair was the Bride, but she scarce had been
And now in our mirth, she had tears nigh the
Her former true lover still runs in her mind.
Attired like a minstrel, her former true lover
Takes up his harp, and runs over the strings;
And there among strangers, his grief to discover,
A fair maiden's falsehood he bitterly sings.
"Now here is the token of gold that was broken;
Seven long years it was kept for your sake;
You gave it to me as a true lover's token;
No longer I'll wear it, asleep or awake."
She sat in her place by the head of the table,
The words of his ditty she mark'd them right
To sit any longer this bride was not able,
So down at the bridegrooms feet she fell.
"O one, one request, my lord, one and no other,
O this one request will you grant it to me?
To lie for this night in the arms of my mother,
And ever, and ever thereafter with thee."
Her one, one request it was granted her fairly;
Pale were her cheeks as she went up to bed;
They rose and they found this young bride
The bridegroom ran quickly, he held her, he
He spoke loud and low, and listen'd full fain;
He call'd on her waiting-maids round to assist
But nothing could bring the lost breath back
O carry her softly! the grave is made ready;
At head and at foot plant a laurel-bush green;
For she was a young and a sweet noble lady,
The fairest young bride that I ever have seen.
I open'd my gate; who there should stand--