And as I slumber’d, methought in my dream
I was once more sauntering slowly
In the moonlight clear through the echoing streets
Of Cologne’s ancient city so holy.
Behind me once again my black
And mask’d attendant speeded;
I felt so weary, my knees wellnigh broke,
Yet on, still on, we proceeded.
We onward went. My heart in my breast
Gaped open, and parted in sunder,
And the red drops glided out of the wound
In my heart,—a sight of wonder.
I oftentimes dipp’d my finger therein,
And often the fancy came o’er me
To streak with the blood, as I onward pass’d,
Each doorpost lying before me.
And every time that I mark’d a house
In this very peculiar fashion,
A funeral bell was heard in a tone
Of mournful and soft compassion.
But now in the heavens the moon grew pale,
And darkness came over me thickly,
And over her face, like horses black,
The stormy clouds sped quickly.
And still behind me onward went
My dark companion ever,
His hidden axe grasping,—on, still on,
And pausing and resting never.
We went and went, till we reach’d at length
The Cathedral precincts’ centre;
The doors of the church wide open stood,
And straightway did we enter.
Within its capacious expanse but death
And night and silence hover’d,
While here and there a glimmering lamp
The darkness plainly discover’d.
I wander’d long the pillars among,
And heard the footsteps only
Of my attendant, who follow’d me still
E’en here in the silence lonely.