Never reaches there the languid
Sound of bells, so dull and tedious,—
That incessant bim-bom clatter
Which the fairies so detest.
There, in never-troubled pleasure,
And in youth eternal blooming,
Still resides the joyous lady,
Our blond dame, the fay Abunde.
Laughingly her walks there takes she
Under lofty heliotropes,
With her talking train beside her,
World-departed Paladins.
Well, and thou, Herodias, prythee
Say where art thou? Ah, I know it,
Thou art dead, and liest buried
By the town Jerusalem!
Stiffly sleeps by day thy body,
In its marble coffin prison’d;
Yet the cracking whips and halloing
Waken thee at midnight’s hour,
And the wild array thou followest
With Diana and Abunde,
With thy merry hunting comrades,
Who hold cross and pain detested.
O what sweet society!
Could I hunt with you by night-time
Through the forests! By thy side
Always would I ride, Herodias!
For ’tis thee I love the dearest!
More than yonder Grecian goddess,
More than yonder Northern fairy,
Love I thee, thou Jewess dead!
Yes, I love thee! Well I know it
By the trembling of my spirit;
Love thou me, and be my darling,
Sweet Herodias, beauteous woman.
I’m the very knight thou wantest!
Little truly it concerns me
That thou’rt dead and damn’d already,
For I’m free from prejudices.