Woe, O woe, ye brothers cruel!
Woe, O woe, thou vale abhorr’d!
Both fall victims in the duel,
Falling on each other’s sword.
Races are to dust converted,
Many centuries have flown,
And the castle, now deserted,
Sadly from the mount looks down.
But at night-time in the valley
Wondrous forms appear again;
At the stroke of twelve, forth sally
To the fight the brothers twain.
4. POOR PETER.
I.
While Hans and Grettel are dancing with glee,
And each of them loudly rejoices,
Poor Peter looks as pale as can be,
And perfectly mute his voice is.
While Hans and Grettel are bridegroom and bride,
And glitter in smart ostentation,
Poor Peter must still in his working dress bide,
And bites his nails with vexation.
Then softly Peter said to himself,
As he gazed on the couple sadly:
“Ah, had I not been such a sensible elf,
It had fared with my life but badly!”
II.
“Within my breast there sits a woe
That seems my breast to sever;
Where’er I stand, where’er I go,
It drives me onward ever.