"Alas!" he thought, "no child of mine
When I am dead shall take my place;
Must all the wealth of all my line
Pass to a hated kinsman's race?"
"Now, by my sword, I'd give up all,
Wealth, fame, and glory, all I've won,
So that within my father's hall
Beside me stood a noble son!"
He saw her white veil floating back
Along the twilight gray and still,
Like ghostly shadows on her track—
Her thoughts were by the lonely mill.
And now they neared the ancient church,
The ancient church where they were wed!
The moonlight full upon the porch
Shone bright, and Erick raised his head.
O Heaven! There upon the lawn
The palfrey's shadow stands out clear,
But Thekla's shadow—it is gone!
Nor form nor floating veil is there.
He spurred his steed with bitter cry:
"Could she have fallen in deathly swoon?"
But no, there, slowly riding by,
He sees her by the bright full moon.
With gesture fierce he seized her rein:
Woman or fiend! Look, if you dare,
The palfrey casts a shadow plain,
But yours—O horror!—is not there!"
She gathered close her silken veil,
And wrung her hands, and prayed for grace,
While down from Heaven the calm moon pale
Looked like God's own accusing face.
He flung aside the broidered rein:
"O woe the day that we were wed!
A witch bride to my arms I've ta'en,
Branded by God's own finger dread."