She the guest with cordial welcome greeted,
Led him to a room with tapers bright;
Wine and food she brought,
Ere of them he thought,
Then departed with a fair good-night.
IV.
But he felt no hunger, and unheeded
Left the wine, and eager for the rest
Which his limbs, forspent with travel, needed,
On the couch he laid him, still undressed.
There he sleeps—when lo!
Onwards gliding slow,
At the door appears a wondrous guest.
V.
By the waning lamp's uncertain gleaming
There he sees a youthful maiden stand,
Robed in white, of still and gentle seeming,
On her brow a black and golden band.
When she meets his eyes,
With a quick surprise
Starting, she uplifts a pallid hand.
VI.
"Is a stranger here, and nothing told me?
Am I then forgotten even in name?
Ah! 'tis thus within my cell they hold me,
And I now am covered o'er with shame!
Pillow still thy head
There upon thy bed,
I will leave thee quickly as I came."
VII.
"Maiden—darling! Stay, O stay!" and, leaping
