THE SIN.
THE SIN.
'Neath the casement stood a Ritter,Sings by night with sweetest tone."Thekla, dearest Thekla, listen,Wilt thou be my bride, mine own?
'Neath the casement stood a Ritter,Sings by night with sweetest tone."Thekla, dearest Thekla, listen,Wilt thou be my bride, mine own?
'Neath the casement stood a Ritter,Sings by night with sweetest tone."Thekla, dearest Thekla, listen,Wilt thou be my bride, mine own?
'Neath the casement stood a Ritter,Sings by night with sweetest tone."Thekla, dearest Thekla, listen,Wilt thou be my bride, mine own?
"Castles have I, parks and forests,Mountains veined with the red gold;And a heart that pineth for thee,With a wealth of love untold.
"Castles have I, parks and forests,Mountains veined with the red gold;And a heart that pineth for thee,With a wealth of love untold.
"Castles have I, parks and forests,Mountains veined with the red gold;And a heart that pineth for thee,With a wealth of love untold.
"Castles have I, parks and forests,Mountains veined with the red gold;And a heart that pineth for thee,With a wealth of love untold.
"I will deck my love in jewels,Gold and peril on brow and hand,Broidered robes and costly girdles,From the far-off Paynim land.
"I will deck my love in jewels,Gold and peril on brow and hand,Broidered robes and costly girdles,From the far-off Paynim land.
"I will deck my love in jewels,Gold and peril on brow and hand,Broidered robes and costly girdles,From the far-off Paynim land.
"I will deck my love in jewels,Gold and peril on brow and hand,Broidered robes and costly girdles,From the far-off Paynim land.
"Here I hang upon the rose-tree,Love, a little golden ring;Wilt thou take it? wilt thou wear it,Love?" Thus did the Ritter sing.
"Here I hang upon the rose-tree,Love, a little golden ring;Wilt thou take it? wilt thou wear it,Love?" Thus did the Ritter sing.
"Here I hang upon the rose-tree,Love, a little golden ring;Wilt thou take it? wilt thou wear it,Love?" Thus did the Ritter sing.
"Here I hang upon the rose-tree,Love, a little golden ring;Wilt thou take it? wilt thou wear it,Love?" Thus did the Ritter sing.
Then upon his black steed mounting,Kissed his hand and doffed his plume.Lovely Thekla stole down gently,Sought the gold ring in the gloom.
Then upon his black steed mounting,Kissed his hand and doffed his plume.Lovely Thekla stole down gently,Sought the gold ring in the gloom.
Then upon his black steed mounting,Kissed his hand and doffed his plume.Lovely Thekla stole down gently,Sought the gold ring in the gloom.
Then upon his black steed mounting,Kissed his hand and doffed his plume.Lovely Thekla stole down gently,Sought the gold ring in the gloom.
"Little ring, wilt thou deceive me?Like the rose dost hide a thorn?"As she takes it, close beside herSounds a ringing laugh of scorn.
"Little ring, wilt thou deceive me?Like the rose dost hide a thorn?"As she takes it, close beside herSounds a ringing laugh of scorn.
"Little ring, wilt thou deceive me?Like the rose dost hide a thorn?"As she takes it, close beside herSounds a ringing laugh of scorn.
"Little ring, wilt thou deceive me?Like the rose dost hide a thorn?"As she takes it, close beside herSounds a ringing laugh of scorn.
And the fatal Mother, mocking,Points her finger to the ring:"What, my maiden! sold thy beautyFor that paltry glittering thing?
And the fatal Mother, mocking,Points her finger to the ring:"What, my maiden! sold thy beautyFor that paltry glittering thing?
And the fatal Mother, mocking,Points her finger to the ring:"What, my maiden! sold thy beautyFor that paltry glittering thing?
And the fatal Mother, mocking,Points her finger to the ring:"What, my maiden! sold thy beautyFor that paltry glittering thing?
"Plucked the bauble from a rose-tree?Ring and rose and doom in all;Roses bright from cheek of beauty,Roses bright must fade and fall.
"Plucked the bauble from a rose-tree?Ring and rose and doom in all;Roses bright from cheek of beauty,Roses bright must fade and fall.
"Plucked the bauble from a rose-tree?Ring and rose and doom in all;Roses bright from cheek of beauty,Roses bright must fade and fall.
"Plucked the bauble from a rose-tree?Ring and rose and doom in all;Roses bright from cheek of beauty,Roses bright must fade and fall.
"Wilt thou follow me?" They glidedOver heath, through moor and wood,Till beside an ancient windmill,In the lone, dark night they stood.
"Wilt thou follow me?" They glidedOver heath, through moor and wood,Till beside an ancient windmill,In the lone, dark night they stood.
"Wilt thou follow me?" They glidedOver heath, through moor and wood,Till beside an ancient windmill,In the lone, dark night they stood.
"Wilt thou follow me?" They glidedOver heath, through moor and wood,Till beside an ancient windmill,In the lone, dark night they stood.
All the mighty wheels were silent,All the giant arms lay still—"Bride and wife, but never mother,Maiden, swear, is such thy will?
All the mighty wheels were silent,All the giant arms lay still—"Bride and wife, but never mother,Maiden, swear, is such thy will?
All the mighty wheels were silent,All the giant arms lay still—"Bride and wife, but never mother,Maiden, swear, is such thy will?
All the mighty wheels were silent,All the giant arms lay still—"Bride and wife, but never mother,Maiden, swear, is such thy will?
"Dost swear?" "I swear!" They glidedUp the stairs and through the door,With her wand the magic MotherDraws a circle on the floor.
"Dost swear?" "I swear!" They glidedUp the stairs and through the door,With her wand the magic MotherDraws a circle on the floor.
"Dost swear?" "I swear!" They glidedUp the stairs and through the door,With her wand the magic MotherDraws a circle on the floor.
"Dost swear?" "I swear!" They glidedUp the stairs and through the door,With her wand the magic MotherDraws a circle on the floor.
Grains of yellow corn, seven,Takes she from a sack beside,Draws the gold ring of her loverFrom the finger of the bride.—
Grains of yellow corn, seven,Takes she from a sack beside,Draws the gold ring of her loverFrom the finger of the bride.—
Grains of yellow corn, seven,Takes she from a sack beside,Draws the gold ring of her loverFrom the finger of the bride.—
Grains of yellow corn, seven,Takes she from a sack beside,Draws the gold ring of her loverFrom the finger of the bride.—
"Seven children would have stolenLight and beauty from thine eyes,But as I cast the yellow cornThrough thy gold ring, each one dies.
"Seven children would have stolenLight and beauty from thine eyes,But as I cast the yellow cornThrough thy gold ring, each one dies.
"Seven children would have stolenLight and beauty from thine eyes,But as I cast the yellow cornThrough thy gold ring, each one dies.
"Seven children would have stolenLight and beauty from thine eyes,But as I cast the yellow cornThrough thy gold ring, each one dies.
Slowly creaked the mill, then fasterWhirled the giant arms on high;Shuddering, hears the trembling maidenCrushing bones, and infant's cry.
Slowly creaked the mill, then fasterWhirled the giant arms on high;Shuddering, hears the trembling maidenCrushing bones, and infant's cry.
Slowly creaked the mill, then fasterWhirled the giant arms on high;Shuddering, hears the trembling maidenCrushing bones, and infant's cry.
Slowly creaked the mill, then fasterWhirled the giant arms on high;Shuddering, hears the trembling maidenCrushing bones, and infant's cry.
Now there is a deathlike silence,Thekla hears her heart alone—Again the weird one flings the corn,Again that plaintive infant's moan.
Now there is a deathlike silence,Thekla hears her heart alone—Again the weird one flings the corn,Again that plaintive infant's moan.
Now there is a deathlike silence,Thekla hears her heart alone—Again the weird one flings the corn,Again that plaintive infant's moan.
Now there is a deathlike silence,Thekla hears her heart alone—Again the weird one flings the corn,Again that plaintive infant's moan.
Two—three—four—the mill goes faster,Whirling, crushing.—Ah! those cries!"Bride, thou'lt never be a mother;Thy beauty's saved—the seventh dies!"
Two—three—four—the mill goes faster,Whirling, crushing.—Ah! those cries!"Bride, thou'lt never be a mother;Thy beauty's saved—the seventh dies!"
Two—three—four—the mill goes faster,Whirling, crushing.—Ah! those cries!"Bride, thou'lt never be a mother;Thy beauty's saved—the seventh dies!"
Two—three—four—the mill goes faster,Whirling, crushing.—Ah! those cries!"Bride, thou'lt never be a mother;Thy beauty's saved—the seventh dies!"
Seven turns the mill hath taken,Seven moans hath Thekla heard;Then all is still. The moon from HeavenShines down calm upon the sward.
Seven turns the mill hath taken,Seven moans hath Thekla heard;Then all is still. The moon from HeavenShines down calm upon the sward.
Seven turns the mill hath taken,Seven moans hath Thekla heard;Then all is still. The moon from HeavenShines down calm upon the sward.
Seven turns the mill hath taken,Seven moans hath Thekla heard;Then all is still. The moon from HeavenShines down calm upon the sward.
"Now take back thy ring in safety;Mother's joy or mother's woe,Wasting pain or fading beauty,Maiden, thou shalt never know!
"Now take back thy ring in safety;Mother's joy or mother's woe,Wasting pain or fading beauty,Maiden, thou shalt never know!
"Now take back thy ring in safety;Mother's joy or mother's woe,Wasting pain or fading beauty,Maiden, thou shalt never know!
"Now take back thy ring in safety;Mother's joy or mother's woe,Wasting pain or fading beauty,Maiden, thou shalt never know!
"Home, before the morning hour!"Home in terror Thekla flies,Shuddering, she hears behind herLaugh of scorn, infants' cries.
"Home, before the morning hour!"Home in terror Thekla flies,Shuddering, she hears behind herLaugh of scorn, infants' cries.
"Home, before the morning hour!"Home in terror Thekla flies,Shuddering, she hears behind herLaugh of scorn, infants' cries.
"Home, before the morning hour!"Home in terror Thekla flies,Shuddering, she hears behind herLaugh of scorn, infants' cries.