Hildebrand and Hille (C)

Fair Hylle, lost in dreaming thought.
Her seam is broidering all distraught.

She broiders that with silken thread,
She ought to work in gold so red;

And where with silk she ought to sew.
Is seen the ruddy gold to glow.

The good queen hears, how lost in dream
Sits Hillelille, and spoils her seam.

And she has veird her royal head,
And up to her maidens' bower is sped.

As o'er the threshold steps the queen,
Hylle stands up with reverent mien.

"Now hark thee, Hillelille, my child,
"Why sewest thou thy seam so wild?

"Thou sittest lost in thought, like one,
"Whose joy and peace of mind are gone."

Fair Hillelille the cushion pressed,
"Seat you, my gracious Queen, and rest.

"Seat you, my Queen, nor say me no,
"And hear me tell my tale of woe;

"For tired were you to stand so long,
"As I were telling all my wrong.

"A kingly crown my father wore,
"And rank of queen my mother bore.

"My father rear'd me up in state,
"And chose twelve knights on me to wait.

"One knight there was amid the train;
"Alas! my heart I let him gain.

"My lover hight Duke Hildebrand,
"A royal prince of English land.

"On horses two our gold we stow'd,
"And on a third ourselves we rode.

"We reached a house as waned the light,
"Where we had wish'd to pass the night

"We heard a knock at midnight hour,
"My brothers seven were at the door.

"He tapp'd my cheek, O cease thy fears,
"And dry, my love, these useless tears.

"Now if thou shouldest see me bleed,
"Then, lest thou name me dead, take heed.

Forbear, if thou should'st see me fall,
"My name in any case to call.

"Forward he rushed to hew and slay,
"Till fifteen knights before him lay.

"Hildebrand, sheathe now thy blade,
"For my sake be thine anger stay'd;

"My youngest brother's life forego,
"At least to him some mercy show.

"But hardly had I call'd the name,
"To Hildebrand his deathblow came.

"My brother seiz'd my trembling hand,
"And tied it up to his saddle band.

"My locks he loosed from off my brow,
"To bind me to his saddle-bow.

"And on he rode through thickest wood,
"Till all my body streamed with blood;

"Onward, nor once for pity stay'd,
"Though thorn and briar my bosom flay'd;

"Nor crossed the road so small a root,
"But wrench'd or tore my tender foot.

"At last we reached the castle gate,
"And there my sorrowing mother sate.

"My father built a tower so high,
"Where closely prison'd I should lie.

"With iron spikes he fenced it round,
"Inside with brambles fill'd the ground.

"Turn, where I would, by some sharp thorn,
"My hand or foot was rudely torn.

"My mother fain would see me sold,
"My father dead beneath the mould.

"They bartered me against the bell
"In Maryby is heard to knell.

"It gave, that bell, one single stroke,
"With one my mother's heart it broke."

In tenderest tone then spake the Queen,
And on her cheek the tears wore seen.

"And now that thy sad tale is done,
"The Duke, thy lover, was my son."

Hylle her tale could scarcely tell,
Ere swooning to the earth she fell;

And great the good kind Queen's dismay,
For on her bosom dead she lay.