“But why so pale and wan, my son—
Say, have you any pain?”
“I could not sleep the whole night long,
For the moonlight shining plain.”
And when his mother slept in pecae,
And all the stars were shining,
The youth beheld her once again,
Amidst the pine trees sighing.
He saw the woman—heard her song,
Resound in forest lonely.
Before the youth she glided on,
He followed somewhat slowly.
He followed, followed on her steps—
A precipice is yawning—
She glides before—he steps behind—
Alas! love and its longing!
In the dark field, beneath the rock,
On moss the youth lies sleeping,
On high the pale moon casts her light
On the dead face, past weeping.
At home his mother sorrows sad;
The wood nymph killed her son.
Because he kissed his mother dear,
The poor youth’s days were done.
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BOHEMIAN LEGENDS.
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