“Landlady, hast thou good beer and wine?
And where is that beauteous daughter of thine?”
“My beer and wine are fresh and clear;
My daughter she lies on the funeral-bier.”
And when they did enter the inner room,
There lay she all white in a shrine of gloom.
The first from her face the veil he took,
And, gazing upon her with sorrowful look,
“Oh, wert thou living, thou fairest maid,
’Tis thee I would love from this hour,” he said.