Was it Luna’s self perchance,
Who with some young dear and handsome
Fond Endymion had to-day
In th’ Quartier Latin been ling’ring?
On my way home thus I thought:
Wherefore fled she when she saw me?
Did the Goddess think that I
Was perchance the Sun-God Phœbus?
10. SIR OLAVE.
I.
At the door of the cathedral
Stand two men, both wearing red coats,
And the first one is the monarch,
And the headsman is the other.
To the headsman spake the monarch:
“By the priest’s song I can gather
“That the wedding is now finish’d—
“Keep thy trusty hatchet ready!”
To the sound of bells and organ
From the church the people issue
In a motley throng, and ’mongst them
Move the gay-dress’d bridal couple.
Pale as death and sad and mournful
Looks the monarch’s lovely daughter;
Bold and joyous looks Sir Olave,
And his ruddy lips are smiling.
And with smiling ruddy lips he
Thus the gloomy king addresses:
“Father of my wife, good morning!
“Forfeited to-day my head is.
“I to-day must die,—O suffer,
“Suffer me to live till midnight,
“That I may with feast and torch-dance
“Celebrate my happy wedding!