VIII.

Towards the palace she came--

The sun was scarcely rising--

Towards the palace she came,

The knights all gazed, surmising,

Silent was every dame.

She stopped before the gate--

The sun was scarcely rising--

She stopped before the gate;

They heard the Queen descending,

And the King questioning her.

Where are you wending, where are you wending?

One scarce can see, take care--

Where are you wending, where are you wending?

Does some one wait for you there?

But she made answer not.

She came down towards the Stranger,--

Take care, one scarce can see--

She came down towards the Stranger;

The Stranger kissed the Queen,

No word did either say,

But went straightway.

The King at the gate was weeping;--

Take care, one scarce can see--

The King at the gate was weeping;

They heard the Queen departing,

They heard the leaves down-sweeping.

Contemporary Belgian Poetry Selected and Translated by Jethro Bithell · 第 151 / 232 题