I fain would hear your happy tale of love,
That I may prosper you and your fair youth.
Will you not trust me?" Blind with love's glad truth,
Christine sank down within Hild's outstretched arms.
Speechless, awhile, with sobbing breath she strove;
Then poured out all the tale of love's alarms,
Raptures, despairs, and deathless ecstasies,
In one quick torrent from her brimming heart;
Then, quaking, ceased, and drew herself apart,
Dismayed that she so easily had revealed