46.
The child of a king in dream have I seen;
How tear-stain’d and pallid her face is,
As we quietly sit ’neath the linden green,
Held fast in each other’s embraces!
“Thy father’s throne is nothing to me,
Nor yet his sceptre all golden,
And diamond crown; for nothing but thee,
Sweet love, will I be beholden.”
“That may not be,” the maiden replied,
For I in my grave am lying,
And only by night can I be by thy side,
To thy loving caresses replying.”