Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Germany: Vols. XVII–XVIII. 1876–79.
The Romance of Cologne
By Thomas Hood (17991845)’T
The thrush is singing and the dove is cooing;
A youth and maiden on the turf recline
Alone,—and he is wooing.
No kindly sympathy the maid discovers,
Though round them both, and in the air above,
The tender spirit hovers.
The more he pleads, more coyly she represses;
Her lip denies, and now her hand withdraws,
Rejecting his caresses.
Bright eyes and dainty lips and tresses curly,
In outward loveliness a child of Eve,
But cold as nymph of Lurley.
The more she chills him with her strange behavior;
Now tells her beads, now gazes on the cross
And image of the Saviour.
As from the presence of a thing inhuman;—
O, what unholy spell hath turned to stone
The young warm heart of woman!
’T is midnight,—and the moonbeam, cold and wan,
On bower and river quietly is sleeping,
And o’er the corse of a self-murdered man
The maiden fair is weeping.
No pressure answers to her hands so pressing;
In her fond arms impassively he lies,
Clay-cold to her caressing.
She flies to succor that may best beseem her,
But, lo! a frowning figure veils the cross,
And hides the blest Redeemer!
Wherein she reads, in melancholy letters,
The cruel, fatal pact that placed her soul
And her young heart in fetters.
Thy holy faith for human love to barter!”
No more she hears, but on the bloody sod
Sinks, Bigotry’s last martyr!
Tell me, harsh priest! by yonder tragic token,
What part hath God in such a bond, whereby
Or hearts or vows are broken?