Glowing waxen tapers tremble,
Calmly sleeps the fairest maid
Under flowers, wreaths, and spangles,
Gifts by fond affection laid.
With the little wreath of myrtle
Round her glossy flaxen hair,
With a strange unearthly brightness
Death illumes her visage fair.
Gentle tones play round the sleeper,
As of holy angels’ wings,
And the harp with wailing accents
Softly through the chamber rings.
Maiden, did thy heart foretell thee
Such a bridal bed of pride?
That thy rest would be so regal,
Didst thou think of that, sweet bride?
Julius Mosen (1803 – 1867) Germany
Translated by Alfred Baskerville
Source: The Poetry of Germany, Consisting from Upwards of Seventy of the Most Celebrated Poets, Translated into English Verse by Alfred Baskerville, 1853.
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