Frame: The German Minnesinger

WILD and pale was the strange brow
Of the bard advancing now;
Eyeballs with such wandering light
Like the meteors of the night,
As if they that fearful look
From their own dark mountains took,
Where the evil ones are found —
Gloomy haunt, and cursed ground;
Sank his voice to mutter'd breath,
The tale of sorrow, sin, and death.