43
When he sat down to the royal fare
Bishop Bruno was the saddest man there;
But when the masquers entered the hall,
He was the merriest man of all.
Bishop Bruno was the saddest man there;
But when the masquers entered the hall,
He was the merriest man of all.
Then from amid the masquers crowd
There went a voice hollow and loud, . .
You have past the day, Bishop Bruno, with glee!
But you must pass the night with me!
There went a voice hollow and loud, . .
You have past the day, Bishop Bruno, with glee!
But you must pass the night with me!
His cheek grows pale and his eye-balls glare,
And stiff round his tonsure bristles his hair;
With that there came one from the masquers band,
And took the Bishop by the hand.
And stiff round his tonsure bristles his hair;
With that there came one from the masquers band,
And took the Bishop by the hand.
The bony hand suspended his breath,
His marrow grew cold at the touch of death;
On saints in vain he attempted to call,
Bishop Bruno fell dead in the palace hall.
His marrow grew cold at the touch of death;
On saints in vain he attempted to call,
Bishop Bruno fell dead in the palace hall.
