The Murdered Lover
Say a mass for my soul’s repose, my brother,Say a mass for my soul’s repose, I need it,Lovingly lived we, the sons of one mother,Mine was the sin, but I pray you not heed it.
Dark were her eyes as the sloe and they called me,Called me with voice independent of breath.God! how my heart beat; her beauty appalled me,Dazed me, and drew to the sea-brink of death.
Lithe was her form like a willow. She beckoned,What could I do save to follow and follow,Nothing of right or result could be reckoned;Life without her was unworthy and hollow.
Ay, but I wronged thee, my brother, my brother;Ah, but I loved her, thy beautiful wife.Shade of our father, and soul of our mother,Have I not paid for my love with my life?
Dark was the night when, revengeful, I met you,Deep in the heart of a desolate land.Warm was the life-blood which angrily wet youSharp was the knife that I felt from your hand.
Wept you, oh, wept you, alone by the river,When my stark carcass you secretly sank.Ha, now I see that you tremble and shiver;‘T was but my spirit that passed when you shrank!
Weep not, oh, weep not, ‘t is over, ‘t is over;Stir the dark weeds with the turn of the tide;Go, thou hast sent me forth, ever a rover,Rest and the sweet realm of heaven denied.
Say a mass for my soul’s repose, my brother,Say a mass for my soul, I need it.Sin of mine was it, and sin of no other,Mine was it all, but I pray you not heed it.