THE LURLEI.
Only a moment! The Lurlei staid
Only a moment with me:
“Only a moment! I’ll sell,” I said,
Bartered I then with the Lurlei gay
Only a moment of time,
Selling the flowers of the valley gray,
Buying the mountain-top’s rime.
Only a moment! The Lurlei smiled;
“Sell me thy birth-right,” she saith.
Oh, and I sold it, innocent child,
Buying the pottage of death!
“’Tis but a moment: thy honor, my dear.”
She layeth her hand on my head.
I cannot choose but heed as I hear;
She giveth me lust in its stead.
“Give me, I pray thee, thy will for a time,
I shall reward thee right well.”
She beckons me whither the cloud-peaks climb,
She hath me under her spell.
“Rosy thy cheek with the bloom of health,
Fair is thy long brown hair;
Here I give premature age for thy wealth,
Here the pure snows thou must wear.”
“Firm is thy tread with the boldness of youth.”
She holdeth my will at command;
She bendeth my form in age without ruth,
Placeth a staff in my hand.
“Farewell, for thy moment has lengthened to years;
I kiss thee a withering curse:
Thou hast bought with thy soul-wealth a valley of tears,
“Give me, I pray thee, my Lurlei lone,
Something to quiet my soul.”
Conscience doth slide from my heart like a stone,
Clouds of remorse from me roll.
“Purity hath not a place in the heart
Reft of all conscience,” Lurlei:
Legions of Pleasures around me upstart,
Licentiousness pointing the way.
“Prayer from the wicked availeth not, friend:”
She placeth a curse in mine eye;
“Heaven nor Hell is thy destine or end:”
She speareth my soul with the lie.
“The sun shineth not; the moon and stars grope:”
Night, sable-robed, doth upstart;
“Love ruleth not, nor Pity, nor Hope:”
Hissing-tongued Hate gnaws my heart.
Only a moment I bartered with her,
Only a moment of time,
Selling the good, the true, and the pure,
Buying the glitter of crime!
I sold her my soul for a moment of pleasure,
That moment has lengthened to years:
I sold her my soul for bliss without measure,
I bought all Eternity’s tears!
L’Envoy.
The Lurlei sits on the mountain’s top,
Combing her golden hair;
Her voice is sirenic, and all must stop
Who pass down the river there.