Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/59

 Weeping midst the graves I sought her,
 * Who had been my bride;

But her lowly grave I found not,
 * Though I wept and sighed.

Who disturbs our peaceful sleeping?” Said a voice, as I stood weeping.

Oh, beloved one, break thy slumber,
 * Come from out thy grave;

Three years I have yearned to see thee
 * And I find thy grave!”

BUt my heart is cold within me, I am dead, and cannot love thee.

Look around and find a shovel,
 * Make me free from earth;

Take me home, then, my beloved one,
 * ’Midst the bridal mirth.”

I dug deep, I found my loved one, Cold and pale I found my loved one.

In her wedding dress I saw her,
 * With the myrtle wreath;

But her eyes were closed in slumber,
 * She had drank of lethe.

Take the ring off from my finger— Wherefor, lover, dost thou linger?

Throw the ring into the river,
 * It will bring thee peace;

Leave me, then, in peaceful sleeping,
 * Let thy sorrow cease.

For my heart is cold within me, I am dead, and cannot love thee.”

Oh, ring ye church bells, far and wide,
 * That my bride is dead,

Then ring ye church bells, long and loud,
 * That my heart is dead.

Oh, lay me in the self-same grave With her whom I had died to save.”