Ye tears, obscure not thus mine eyes
On this too-painful morrow;
My love-sick heart, O do not break
With overweight of sorrow!
15. THE SONG OF REPENTANCE.
Sir Ulrich rides in the forest so green,
The leaves with joy seem laden;
He sees, the trees’ thick branches between,
The form of a beauteous maiden.
The youth then said: “Well know I thee,
So blooming and glowing thy face is;
Alluringly ever encircles it me,
In deserts or crowded places.
“Those lips, by fresh loveliness ever stirr’d,
Appear a pair of roses;
Yet many a hateful bitter word
That roguish mouth discloses.
“A pretty rosebush a mouth like this
Resembles very closely,
Where cunning poisonous serpents hiss
Amid the leaves morosely.
“Within those beauteous cheeks there lies
A sweet and beauteous dimple;
That is the grave where I fell by surprise,
Lured on by a yearning simple.
“There see I the beauteous locks of hair,
That once so lovingly pleased me;
That is the net so wondrous fair
Wherewith the Evil One seized me.
“And that blue eye, that so sweetly fell,
As clear as the ocean even,
It proved to be the portal of hell,
Though I thought it the gateway of heaven.”
In the wood still farther Sir Ulrich doth ride,
The leaves make a rustling dreary,
A second figure afar he spied,
That seem’d so sad and weary.