THE LOVER BY THE GRAVE.
A BOHEMIAN BALLAD.
Passing through the somber forest,
Maidens two I saw.
“Tell me, maidens, tell me, fair ones,
That I hold in awe,
Is my loved one midst your number,
Making hay, or doth she slumber?”
“Ah, alas! your loved one slumbers,
Deep within the grave.
Yesterday we laid her lowly,
Where the grasses wave.”
“Dead! my loved one, oh, tell me where
Lies my loved one, without compare?”
“’Tis a fair way that we took her,
Winding up the hill;
Where the youths trod there are pebbles,
You can see them still.
Where the maidens trod are roses,
There she lies in death’s encloses.”
“Tell me, maidens, where she sleepeth,
Whom I loved so well.”
“Not far from the gateway, lover,
By the graveyard cell.”
Twice I wandered round God’s acre,
Praying sore unto my Maker.
