[2]
But tho' Moslem hosts were quaking
At the Toggenburger's name,
Still his breast, with anguish breaking,
Felt its sorrow yet the same:
Felt it till a year departed--
Felt it of all hope bereft;
Restless, joyless, broken-hearted,
Then the warring bands he left;--
Bade on Joppa's sandy shore
Seamen hoist the swelling sail;
Swift the bark to Europe bore
O'er the tide the fav'ring gale.
When the pilgrim, sorrow laden,
Sought the gates he lov'd so well;
From the portals of his maiden
_Words of thunder_[3] rang his knell:
"She ye seek has ta'en the veil,
To God alone her thoughts are given;
Yestere'en the cloisters pale
Saw the bride betroth'd to heaven."
From the castle of his sires,
Mad with grief, the hero flew;
War no more his bosom fires,
Arms he spurns, and courser true.
Far from Toggenburg alone
Wends he on his secret way,
To friend and foe alike unknown,
Clad in peasant's mean array.
On a mountain's lonesome glade,
'Neath a hut he sought repose--
Near where 'mid the lime-tree's shade,
The convent pinnacles arose;
There, from morning's dawn first bright'ning
Till the ev'ning stars began,
Secret hopes his anguish light'ning,
Sate the solitary man.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25