And now the bishop had blest the meat,
When a voice was heard as he sat in his seat,—
With the emperor now you are dining in glee,
But know, bishop Bruno, you sup with me!
The bishop then grew pale with affright,
And suddenly lost his appetite;
All the wine and dainty cheer
Could not comfort his heart so sick with fear.
But by little and little recovered he
For the wine went flowing merrily,
And he forgot his former dread,
And his cheeks again grew rosy red.
When he sat down to the royal fare
Bishop Bruno was the saddest man there;
But when the masquers entered the hall,
He was the merriest man of all.
Then from amid the masquers’ crowd
There went a voice hollow and loud;
You have passed the day, bishop Bruno, with glee!
But you must pass the night with me!
His cheek grows pale and his eye-balls glare,
And stiff round his tonsure bristles his hair;
With that there came one from the masquers’ band,
And he took the bishop by the hand.
The bony hand suspended his breath,
His marrow grew cold at the touch of Death;
On saints in vain he attempted to call,
Bishop Bruno fell dead in the palace hall.
Southey.