Though red my blood hath left its trail
For five far miles, I will not fail,
As God in Heaven wills!
The way was long through that black land.--
With sword on hip and horn in hand,
At last before thy walls I stand,
O Lady of the Hills!
No seneschal shall put to scorn
The summons of my bugle-horn!
No warder stern shall stay!
Yea! God hath helped my strength too far,
By bandit-caverned wood and scar,
To give it pause now, or to bar
My all-avenging way!
This hope still gives my body strength--
To kiss thy mouth and eyes at length
Where all thy kin can see:
Then, 'mid thy towers of crime and gloom,
Sin-haunted as the Halls of Doom,
To strike thee dead in that wild room
Red-lit with revelry.
Madly I rode; nor once looked back,
Before my face the world reeled, black
With nightmare wind and rain.
Witch-lights flared by me on the fen;
And through the forest--was it then
The eyes of wolves? or ghosts of men,
That flamed and fled again?
Still on I rode. My way was clear
From that wild time when, spear to spear,
Deep in the wind-torn wood,
I met him!... Dead he lies beneath
Your trysting oak. I clenched my teeth
And rode. My wound scarce let me breathe,
That filled my eyes with blood.
And here I am. The blood may blind
My eyesight still!... but I will find
Thee through some inner eye!
For God--He hath this thing in care!--
Yea! I will kiss again thy hair,
Then tell thee of thy leman there,
And smite thee dead--and die.