On such an eve it was, that, redolent,
She sat by me and said,—'My message sent,
Some night—within the forest—thou, my knight!
Thou and the king!—my men—the forest fight!—
Murder perhaps.—But, well?—who is to blame?'...
So with her blood-red thoughts to me she came.
To me! that woman, brighter than a flame,
And wooed my soul to hell, with love accurs'd;
With harlot lips, from which my being first
Drank hell and heaven. She, who was in sooth