“Why dost thou weep?” the mass priest said; “Fair dame, why dost thou weep?” “I weep because my lord is laid In an enchanted sleep.
“It was upon our bridal day The bitter thing befel, My love and lord was lured away By an ill witch's spell.
“She lured him to her hidden bower Among the cypress trees, And there she holdeth manhood's flower Asleep across her knees.”
“Pray to our Father for His aid, God knows ye need it sore.” “O God of Heaven, have I not prayed? But I will pray no more.
“God will not listen to my prayer, And never a Saint will hear, Else should I stand beside him there, Or he be with me here.
“But there he sleeps — and I wake here And wet my bread with tears — And still they say that God can hear, And still God never hears.
“If I could learn a mighty spell, Would get my love awake, I'd sell my soul alive to hell, And learn it for his sake.
“So say thy mass, and go thy way, And let my grief alone — Teach thou the happy how to pray And leave the devil his own.”
Within the witch's secret bower Through changeful day and night, Hour after priceless golden hour, Lay the enchanted knight.
The witch's arms about him lay, His face slept in her hair; The devil taught her the spell to say Because she was so fair.
And all about the bower were flowers And gems and golden gear, And still she watched the slow-foot hours Because he was so dear.
Watched in her tower among the trees For his long sleep to break; And still he lay across her knees And still he did not wake.
What whisper stirs the curtain's fold? What foot comes up the stair? What hand draws back the cloth of gold And leaves the portal bare?
The night wind sweeps through all the room, The tapers fleer and flare, And from the portal's outer gloom His true love enters there.
“Give place, thou wicked witch, give place, For his true wife is here, Who for his sake has lost heaven's grace Because he was so dear.
“My soul is lost and his is won; Thy spells his sleep did make, But I know thy spell, the only one Can get my lord awake.”
The witch looked up, her shining eyes Gleamed through her yellow hair — ( She was cast out of Paradise Because she was so fair ).
“Speak out the spell, thou loving wife, And what it beareth, bide, Go — bring thy lover back to life And give thy lord a bride.”
The wife's soul burned in every word As low she spoke the spell, Weeping in heaven, her angel heard, One, hearing, laughed in hell.
And when the spell was spoken through, Sudden the knight awoke And turned his eyes upon the two — And neither of them spoke.
He did not see his pale-faced wife Whom sorrow had made wise, He only saw the light of life Burn in the witch's eyes.
He only saw her bosom sweet, Her golden fleece of hair, And he fell down before her feet Because she was so fair.
She stooped and raised him from the floor And held him in her arms; She said: “He would have waked no more For any of my charms.
“You only could pronounce the spell Would set his spirit free; And you have sold your soul to hell And wakened him — for me!
“I hold him now by my blue eyes And by my yellow hair, He never will miss Paradise, Because I am so fair.”
The wife looked back, looked back to see The golden-curtained place, Her lord's head on the witch's knee, Her gold hair on his face.
“I would my soul once more were mine, Then God my prayer would hear And slay my soul in place of thine Because thou art so dear!”
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