They found him on the battle-field, With broken sword and cloven shield, They found him pillowed on the dead, On his pale brow, and paler cheek, The white moonshine did fall so meek-— Ah, well-a-day! sad strain. They lifted up the True and Brave, Heigho! the Wind and Rain; And bore him to his lone cold grave, Ah, well-a-day! in pain. They buried him on that far strand, Heigho! the Wind and Rain; His face turned towards his love's own land, Ah, well-a-day! how vain. The wearied heart was laid at rest, Heigho! the Wind and Rain; To dream of her it liked best, Ah, well-a-day! again. They nothing said, but many a tear, Heigho! the Wind and Rain, Rained down on that knight's lowly bier, Ah, well-a-day! amain. They nothing said, but many a sigh, Heigho! the Wind and Rain; Told how they wished like him to die, With solemn mass and orison, They reared to him a cross of stone, F And on it graved with daggers bright, Heigho! the Wind and Rain; Here lies a true and gentle Knight, Ah, well-a-day! Amen! requiescat. in. pace. Again at my bed! With thy smile sweet as sunshine, And hand cold as lead! I know thee, I know thee!— These golden robes shrank up, These golden robes shrank up, While out crept the symbols Of Death and of Sin! Bright, beautiful devil! Pass, pass from me now; For the damp dew of death Gathers thick on my brow: And bind up thy girdle, Nor beauties disclose, More dazzlingly white Than the wreath-drifted snows: And away with thy kisses; My heart waxes sick, As thy red lips, like worms, Travel over my cheek! Ha! press me no more with That passionless hand, 'Tis whiter than milk, or The foam on the strand; 'Tis softer than down, or The silken-leafed flower; But colder than ice thrills Its touch at this hour. Like the finger of Death From cerements unrolled, Thy hand on my heart falls Dull, clammy, and cold. |