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.”