"That brother in his mother's right another name did bear:
Twas him I slew--all shrank from me in horror and in fear;
They seized me in my bridal dress--my bride still senseless lay--
I spoke not while they pinioned me and hurried me away.
"They lodged me in a criminal cell, by iron gratings barred,
And there the third day heavily a funeral bell I heard.
A sable crowd my prison passed--they gazed on it with gloom:
It was my bride--my beautiful--they followed to the tomb!
"I was acquitted; but what more had I with life to do?
I cursed my fate--my heart--the world--and from its creatures flew.
Intruder, thou hast heard my tale of wretchedness and guilt--
Go, mingle with a viler world, and tell it if thou wilt."
XIII.
THE BALLAD OF RUMBOLLOW.
The clouds are flying, the trees are sighing,
The birds are hopping from bough to bough;
The winds are blowing, the snowflakes throwing
O'er the green earth below, below;
The storm is coming while I am roaming
The thick dark forest all through, all through;
The air is nipping, my clothes are dripping,
All in the forest of Rumbollow.[A]
On a felled tree lying a woman sits sighing,
Rocking a child both to and fro;
Her gown it is torn, her shoes they are worn--
She looks like a creature of woe, of woe;
Her eyes are glowing, her hair is flowing,
She's all over white with the snow, the snow;
She rocks the child with a gesture wild,
All in the forest of Rumbollow.
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