Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/197



In the churchyard, by the chapel,
 * A lost soul was heard disputing

With its body lying rigid,
 * In its coffin calmly sleeping.

Oh, you body, wretched body,
 * In rich silks you flaunted gayly.

Wanton were your ways and pastimes—
 * Now I suffer for you sadly.

Every thing you saw you wanted—
 * Every pleasure you have tasted,

Clothed in gold and costly raiments,
 * See, your life was wholly wasted.

In the dance your feet were quickest,
 * Where the tambourines were playing,

And the wayward youth were singing,
 * Tender words, in sooth, were saying.

At the feast the flowing goblet,
 * You have emptied without number,

Never did you think of praying,
 * When you lay you down to slumber.

You have danced to sweetest music—
 * I must writhe in mortal anguish.

While your body sleeps there calmly,
 * I in hell am doomed to languish.”

Then the body answered coldly,
 * Tell me, soul, were you not with me

When I lived in wanton splendor,
 * Was there anything kept from thee?”