human
My curse on thy venom, my curse on thy spell, They have slain the master I loved too well. Thou saidst he should wake when the joust was o'er, But oh, he never will waken more! She tore her fair hair, while the demon laughed, Saying,
gpt
Sound was the sleep that thy lover quaffed; But bid the warder unbar the gate, That the lost Christine may meet her fate.
human
Hither, hither thou mailèd man With those woman's tears in thine eyes, With thy brawny cheek all wet and wan, Show me the heir of Miolan, Lead where my Bridegroom lies.