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chriemhild.
For Siegfried was that falcon, her heart's chosen,
Though yet in maiden thought forsworn unseen.
An honored wife,—a widow horror-frozen,—
So reads thy fate, sweet queen.
Though yet in maiden thought forsworn unseen.
An honored wife,—a widow horror-frozen,—
So reads thy fate, sweet queen.
Sweet queen! alas, alas! sweet queen no longer:
In fury and in anguish ends the dream;
The lurid lines of destiny burn stronger,
And hide her beauty's beam.
In fury and in anguish ends the dream;
The lurid lines of destiny burn stronger,
And hide her beauty's beam.
Gaze long upon the dear, sad face before you,
For never lovelier ladye will you see
In dew, and balm, and freshness bending o'er you,—
The Rose of Burgundy.
For never lovelier ladye will you see
In dew, and balm, and freshness bending o'er you,—
The Rose of Burgundy.
'T is on the wall of a Bavarian palace;1
A fresco by a master-limner wrought;
You see Chriemhild herself, ere wasting malice
Had all to ruin brought.
A fresco by a master-limner wrought;
You see Chriemhild herself, ere wasting malice
Had all to ruin brought.
She clings to Siegfried, holding on her finger,
The falcon of her vision,—ominous bird!
While far off, where her chieftain's glances linger,
The rush of doom is heard.
The falcon of her vision,—ominous bird!
While far off, where her chieftain's glances linger,
The rush of doom is heard.
