She sees him vanish into night,
She starts from sleep in deep affright,
For it was not her own true knight.
Though but in dream Gunhilda failed.
Though but a fancied ill assailed,
Though she but fancied fault bewailed,—
Yet thought of day makes dream of night:
She is not worthy of the knight,
The inmost altar burns not bright.
If loneliness thou canst not bear,