Had sunk the cheeks, and made the great eyes hollow;
What other work in all the world had I,
But through all turns of fate that face to follow?
But wars and business kept me there to die.
O child, I should have slain my brother, too,
My brother, Love, lain moaning in the grass,
Had I not ridden out to look for you,
When I had watch'd the gilded courtiers pass
From the golden hall. But it is strange your name
Is not the same the minstrel sung of yore;
You call'd it Rapunzel, 'tis not the name.
See, love, the stems shine through the open door.
Morning in the woods.
Rapunzel.
O LOVE! me and my unknown name you have well won;
The witch's name was Rapunzel: eh! not so sweet?
No! but is this real grass, love, that I tread upon?
What call they these blue flowers that lean across my feet?
The Prince.
Dip down your dear face in the dewy grass, O love!
And ever let the sweet slim harebells, tenderly hung,
Kiss both your parted lips; and I will hang above,
And try to sing that song the dreamy harper sung.
He sings.
'Twixt the sunlight and the shade
Float up memories of my maid:
God, remember Guendolen!