Page:Bohemian legends and other poems.djvu/182

Ah, merry rang the wedding bells—
And many were the guests that came,
And gathered round the festive board
Were not a few of noble name.
The first few years they lived in peace,
As well befits a married pair,
Then John of Lichtenstein grew cold,
And left his wife to her despair.
The devil jealousy took room
Within his heart, and he would fain
Have walled his wife within her room,
So burning was his jealous pain.
They lived indeed a dreadful life,
Which every day grew worse and worse.
He kept her like the meanest born,
Without a home, without a purse.
For years she bore her wretched lot.
And wifelike tried to smile through tears,
Till life became to her a hell.
And death for her lost all its fears.
At length endurance had an end,
Ill-treatment drove her from her home;
She left her lord, and fled at night,
To her old childhood’s home alone.
Her brother took her, eased her pain,
And would have played the kinsman’s part,
Made peace—or dueled with her lord,
And stabbed him through his wicked heart,
But Bertha said, “Let him alone—
God may forgive him, but not I.
Since I am safe with you at home,
Oh, wherefore, brother, should he die?”
Long years she lived with him in peace,
There where her childish feet had strayed.
Was mother to his orphaned brood,
When he in his low grave was laid.
Her time she passed in works of love,
The naked clothed, the poor one fed,
Was loved and honored through the land,
And blessings fell upon her head,
So years passed on, her husband died;
But unforgiving still, she said,
“God may forgive him, but not I.
’Tis well indeed that he is dead.”