I’ve loved thee long, and I love thee still
And e’en if the world were shatter’d,
My glowing love would glisten and thrill,
Though widely earth’s ruins were scatter’d.
. . . . . . . . . .
And when I thus have loved thee so well
Till the hour of death has sounded,
I’ll take with me e’en to my tomb’s dark cell
My love-pangs fierce and unbounded.
50.
In the glimmering summer morning
I pace the garden alone;
The flowers are whisp’ring and speaking,
But silently wander I on.
The flowers are whisp’ring and speaking,
My form with compassion they scan:
O pray be kind to our sister,
Thou mournful and pale-faced man!
51.
Her dark attire thus wearing
My love appears to my sight
Like a tale of sorrow despairing
That’s told in the long summer night:
“In the magical garden there wander
“Two lovers mute and alone;
“Sweet sing the nightingales yonder,
“The moonbeams are over them thrown.
“Like a statue the maiden stands mildly,
“At her feet the faithful knight lies;
“The forest giant comes wildly,
“The sorrowing maiden soon flies.
“Soon the knight on the ground lies all gory,
“The giant goes home at his ease—”
And when I am buried, the story
Is ended as soon as you please.