II.
Sir Olave he sits at his wedding repast,
And every goblet is drained at last;
Upon his shoulder reclines
His wife and pines—
At the door the headsman is standing.
The dance begins, and Sir Olave takes hold
Of his youthful wife, and with haste uncontroll’d
They dance by the torches’ glow
Their last dance below—
At the door the headsman is standing.
The fiddles strike up, so merry and glad,
The flutes they sound so mournful and sad;
Whoever their dancing then saw
Was filled with awe—
At the door the headsman is standing.
And as they dance in the echoing hall,
To his wife speaks Sir Olave, unheard by them all:
“My love will be ne’er known to thee—
“The grave yawns for me—”
At the door the headsman is standing.