"My mother, what is happiness? My mother, what is Hell? With William is my happiness,

Without him is my Hell!

Spark of my life! down, down to the tomb:
Die away in the night, die away in the gloom!
Earth and Heaven, and Heaven and earth,
Reft of William are nothing worth."

Thus grief racked and tore the breast of Lenore,
And was busy at her brain;

Thus rose her cry to the Power on high,
To question and arraign:

Wringing her hands and beating her breast,-
Tossing and rocking without any rest;-

Till from her light veil the moon shone through,
And the stars leapt out on the darkling blue.

But hark to the clatter and the pat pat patter

Of a horse's heavy hoof!

How the steel clanks and rings as the rider springs !
How the echo shouts aloof!

While slightly and lightly the gentle bell

Tingles and jingles softly and well;

And low and clear through the door plank thin
Comes the voice without to the ear within:

"Holla! holla! unlock the gate;

Art waking, my bride, or sleeping?

Is thy heart still free and still faithful to me?
Art laughing, my bride, or weeping?"
"Oh! wearily, William, I've waited for you,-
Woefully watching the long day through,-
With a great sorrow sorrowing

For the cruelty of your tarrying."

"Till the dead midnight we saddled not,I have journeyed far and fast

And hither I come to carry thee back

Ere the darkness shall be past."

"Ah! rest thee within till the night's more calm;
Smooth shall thy couch be, and soft, and warm:
Hark to the winds, how they whistle and rush
Through the twisted twine of the hawthorn-bush."

"Through the hawthorn-bush let whistle and rush,Let whistle, child, let whistle!

Mark the flash fierce and high of my steed's bright eye, And his proud crest's eager bristle.

Up, up and away! I must not stay:

Mount swiftly behind me! up, up and away!
An hundred miles must be ridden and sped
Ere we may lie down in the bridal-bed."

"What! ride an hundred miles to-night, By thy mad fancies driven !

Dost hear the bell with its sullen swell,

As it rumbles out eleven ? "

"Look forth! look forth! the moon shines bright:
We and the dead gallop fast through the night.
'Tis for a wager I bear thee away

To the nuptial couch ere break of day."

"Ah! where is the chamber, William dear,
And William, where is the bed?"

Far, far from here: still, narrow, and cool;
Plank and bottom and lid."

"Hast room for me?"-" For me and thee;
Up, up to the saddle right speedily!

The wedding-guests are gathered and met,
And the door of the chamber is open set."

She busked her well, and into the selle
She sprang with nimble haste,-
And gently smiling, with a sweet beguiling,
Her white hands clasped his waist:-

And hurry, hurry! ring, ring, ring!

To and fro they sway and swing;

Snorting and snuffing they skim the ground,

And the sparks spurt up, and the stones run round.

Here to the right and there to the left

Flew fields of corn and clover,

And the bridges flashed by to the dazzled eye,
As rattling they thundered over.

"What ails my love? the moon shines bright:
Bravely the dead men ride through the night.

"

Is my love afraid of the quiet dead?'

Ah! no;-let them sleep in their dusty bed!"

On the breeze cool and soft what tune floats aloft,
While the crows wheel overhead ?—

Ding dong! ding dong! 'tis the sound, 'tis the song,-
"Room, room for the passing dead!"

Slowly the funeral-train drew near,

Bearing the coffin, bearing the bier;

And the chime of their chaunt was hissing and harsh,
Like the note of the bull-frog within the marsh.

"You bury your corpse at the dark midnight, With hymns and bells and wailing;

But I bring home my youthful wife

To a bride-feast's rich regaling.

Come, chorister, come with thy choral throng,
And solemnly sing me a marriage-song;

Come, friar, come,-let the blessing be spoken,

That the bride and the bridegroom's sweet rest be unbroken."

Died the dirge and vanished the bier :

Obedient to his call,

Hard hard behind, with a rush like the wind,
Came the long steps' pattering fall:

And ever further! ring, ring, ring!

To and fro they sway and swing;

Snorting and snuffing they skim the ground,

And the sparks spurt up, and the stones run round.

How flew to the right, how flew to the left,
Trees, mountains in the race!

How to the left, and the right and the left,
Flew town and market-place!

"What ails my love? the moon shines bright:
Bravely the dead men ride through the night.
Is my love afraid of the quiet dead?"
'Ah! let them alone in their dusty bed!”'

See, see, see! by the gallows-tree,

As they dance on the wheel's broad hoop,
Up and down, in the gleam of the moon
Half lost, an airy group :-

"Ho! ho! mad mob, come hither amain,
And join in the wake of my rushing train ;-
Come, dance me a dance, ye dancers thin,
Ere the planks of the marriage-bed close us in."

And hush, hush, hush! the dreamy rout
Came close with a ghastly bustle,

Like the whirlwind in the hazel-bush,

When it makes the dry leaves rustle :

And faster, faster! ring, ring, ring!

To and fro they sway and swing;

Snorting and snuffing they skim the ground,

And the sparks spurt up, and the stones run round.

How flew the moon high overhead,

In the wild race madly driven !

In and out, how the stars danced about,

And reeled o'er the flashing heaven!

"What ails my love? the moon shines bright:
Bravely the dead men ride through the night.

Is my love afraid of the quiet dead?"
"Alas! let them sleep in their dusty bed."

"Horse, horse! meseems 'tis the cock's shrill note, And the sand is well nigh spent;

Horse, horse, away! 'tis the break of day,— 'Tis the morning air's sweet scent.

Finished, finished is our ride:

Room, room for the bridegroom and the bride!

At last, at last, we have reached the spot,

For the speed of the dead man has slackened not!"

And swiftly up to an iron gate

With reins relaxed they went;

At the rider's touch the bolts flew back,

And the bars were broken and bent;

The doors were burst with a deafening knell,

And over the white graves they dashed pell-mell:
The tombs around looked grassy and grim,

As they glimmered and glanced in the moonlight dim.

But see! but see! in an eyelid's beat,
Townoo a gnastly wonder i

The horseman's Jerkin, piece by piece,
Dropped off like brittle tinder !
Fleshless and hairless, a naked skull,
The sight of his weird head was horrible ;
The lifelike mask was there no more,

And a scythe and a sandglass the skeleton bore.

Loud snorted the horse as he plunged and reared,
And the sparks were scattered round :-
What man shall say if he vanished away,

Or sank in the gaping ground?

Groans from the earth and shrieks in the air!
Howling and wailing everywhere!

Half dead, half living, the soul of Lenore
Fought as it never had fought before.

The churchyard troop,-a ghostly group,-
Close round the dying girl;

Out and in they hurry and spin

"

Through the dance's weary whirl:

Patience, patience, when the heart is breaking ; With thy God there is no question-making:

Of thy body thou art quit and free:

Heaven keep thy soul eternally!"'

HENRY THE LEPER

A SWABIAN MIRACLE-RHYME

BY HARTMANN VON AUË (A.D. 1100-1200)

Hartmann von Auë, the fame went,
Was a good knight, and well jacquent
With books in every character.
Having sought this many a year,
He found at length a record fit,

As far as he apprehendeth it,

To smoothe the rugged paths uneven,

To glorify God which is in Heaven,

And gain kind thoughts from each true hear

For himself as also for his art.

Unto your ears this song sings he,
And begs, an you hear it patiently,

That his reward be held in store;

And that whoso, when his days are o'er,
Shall read and understand this book,
For the writer unto God may look,
Praying that God may be his goal
And the place of rest to his poor soul.
That man his proper shrift shall win
Who prayeth for his brother's sin.

PART I

ONCE on a time, rhymeth the rhyme,
In Swabia-land once on a time,
There was a nobleman sojourning,
Unto whose nobleness everything
Of virtue and high-hearted excellence
Worthy his line and his large pretence
With plentiful measure was meted out:
The land rejoiced in him round about.
He was like a prince in his governing-
In his wealth he was like a king;
But most of all by the fame far-flown
Of his great knightliness was he known,
North and south, upon land and sea.
By his name he was Henry of the Lea.