“No! for by this glowing flame I swear,

Hymen hath himself propitious shown: 
Let us to my fathers house repair,

  And thoult find that joy is not yet flown,

      Sweetest, here then stay,

      And without delay

  Hold we now our wedding feast alone!”

Then exchange they tokens of their truth;

She gives him a golden chain to wear,
And a silver chalice would the youth

  Give her in return of beauty rare.

      “That is not for me;

Yet I beg of thee,
One lock only give me of thy hair.”

Now the ghostly hour of midnight knell’d,

And she seem’d right joyous at the sign;
To her pallid lips the cup she held,

  But she drank of nought but blood-red wine.

      For to taste the bread

      There before them spread,

  Nought he spoke could make the maid incline.

To the youth the goblet then she brought,—­

He too quaff’d with eager joy the bowl. 
Love to crown the silent feast he sought,

  Ah! full love-sick was the stripling’s soul.

      From his prayer she shrinks,

      Till at length he sinks

  On the bed and weeps without control.

And she comes, and lays her near the boy: 

“How I grieve to see thee sorrowing so! 
If thou think’st to clasp my form with joy,

  Thou must learn this secret sad to know;

      Yes! the maid, whom thou

      Call’st thy loved one now,

  Is as cold as ice, though white as snow.”

Then he clasps her madly in his arm,

While love’s youthful might pervades his frame: 
“Thou might’st hope, when with me, to grow warm,

  E’en if from the grave thy spirit came!

      Breath for breath, and kiss!

      Overflow of bliss!

  Dost not thou, like me, feel passion’s flame?”

Love still closer rivets now their lips,

Tears they mingle with their rapture blest,
From his mouth the flame she wildly sips,

  Each is with the other’s thought possess’d.

      His hot ardour’s flood

      Warms her chilly blood,

  But no heart is beating in her breast.

In her care to see that nought went wrong,

Now the mother happen’d to draw near;
At the door long hearkens she, full long,

  Wond’ring at the sounds that greet her ear.

      Tones of joy and sadness,

      And love’s blissful madness,

  As of bride and bridegroom they appear,

From the door she will not now remove

’Till she gains full certainty of this;
And with anger hears she vows of love,

  Soft caressing words of mutual bliss.

      “Hush! the cock’s loud strain!