From Uhland

Hanging his head, behind each came a hound,Padding with gentle paws upon the road.Straight silent pines rose here and there around;A dull stream on the left side hardly flowed;A black snake through the sluggish waters wound.Hark, the night raven! see the crawling toad!She thinks how dark will be the moonless night,How feeblest ray is yet supernal light.

The moon's last gleam fell on dim glazed eyes,A body shrunken from its garments' fold:An aged man whose bent knees could not rise,He tottered in the maiden's tightening hold.She shivered, but too slight was the disguiseTo hide from love what never yet was old;She held him fast, with open eyes did pray,Walked through the fear, and kept the onward way.

Toward a gloomy thicket of tall firs,Dragging his inch-long steps, he turned aside.There Silence sleeps; not one green needle stirs.They enter it. A breeze begins to chideAmong the cones. It swells until it whirs,Vibrating so each sharp leaf that it sighed:The grove became a harp of mighty chords,Wing-smote by unseen creatures wild for words.

But when he turned again, toward the cleftOf a great rock, as instantly it ceased,And the tall pines stood sudden, as if reftOf a strong passion, or from pain released;Again they wove their straight, dark, motionless weftAcross the moonset-bars; and, west and east,Cloud-giants rose and marched up cloudy stairs;And like sad thoughts the bats came unawares.

'Twas a drear chamber for thy bridal night,O poor, pale, saviour bride! An earthen lampWith shaking hands he kindled, whose faint lightMooned out a tiny halo on the dampThat filled the cavern to its unseen height,Dim glimmering like death-candle in a swamp.Watching the entrance, each side lies a hound,With liquid light his red eyes gleaming round.

A heap rose grave-like from the rocky floorOf moss and leaves, by many a sunny windLong tossed and dried--with rich furs covered o'erExpectant. Up a jealous glory shinedIn her possessing heart: he should find moreIn her than in those faithless! With sweet mindShe, praying gently, did herself unclothe,And lay down by him, trusting, and not loath.

Once more a wind came, flapping overhead;The hounds pricked up their ears, their eyes flashed fire.The trembling maiden heard a sudden tread--Dull, yet plain dinted on the windy gyre,As if long, wet feet o'er smooth pavement sped--Come fiercely up, as driven by longing direTo enter; followed sounds of hurried rout:With bristling hair, the hounds stood looking out.

Then came, half querulous, a whisper old,Feeble and hollow as if shut in a chest:"Take my face on your bosom; I am cold."She bared her holy bosom's truth-white nest,And forth her two hands instant went, love-bold,And took the face, and close against her pressed:Ah, the dead chill!--Was that the feet again?--But her great heart kept beating for the twain.

She heard the wind fall, heard the following rainSwelling the silent waters till their soundWent wallowing through the night along the plain.The lamp went out, by the slow darkness drowned.Must the fair dawn a thousand years refrain?Like centuries the feeble hours went round.Eternal night entombed her with decay:To her live soul she clasped the breathless clay.

The world stood still. Her life sank down so lowThat but for wretchedness no life she knew.A charnel wind moaned out a moaning--No;From the devouring heart of earth it blew.Fair memories lost all their sunny glow:Out of the dark the forms of old friends grewBut so transparent blanched with dole and smartShe saw the pale worm lying in each heart.

And, worst of all--Oh death of keep-fled life!A voice within her woke and cried: In soothVain is all sorrow, hope, and care, and strife!Love and its beauty, its tenderness and truthAre shadows bred in hearts too fancy-rife,Which melt and pass with sure-decaying youth:Regard them, and they quiver, waver, blot;Gaze at them fixedly, and they are not.

And all the answer the poor child could makeWas in the tightened clasp of arms and hands.Hopeless she lay, like one Death would not takeBut still kept driving from his empty lands,Yet hopeless held she out for his dear sake;The darksome horror grew like drifting sandsTill nought was precious--neither God nor light,And yet she braved the false, denying night.

So dead was hope, that, when a glimmer weakStole through a fissure somewhere in the cave,Thinning the clotted darkness on his cheek,She thought her own tired eyes the glimmer gave:He moved his head; she saw his eyes, love-meek,And knew that Death was dead and filled the Grave.Old age, convicted lie, had fled away!Youth, Youth eternal, in her bosom lay!

With a low cry closer to him she creptAnd on his bosom hid a face that glowed:It was his turn to comfort--he had slept!Oh earth and sky, oh ever patient God,She had not yielded, but the truth had kept!New love, new bliss in weeping overflowed.I can no farther tell the tale begun;They are asleep, and waiting for the sun.