WATCH-SONG
The sun is gone down,
And the moon upward springeth,
The night creepeth onward,
The nightingale singeth.
To himself said a watchman,
“Is any knight waiting
In pain for his lady,
To give her his greeting?
Now, then, for their meeting!”
His words heard a knight,
In the garden while roaming:
“Ah! Watchman,” he said,
“Is the daylight fast coming,
And may I not see her,
And wilt not thou aid me?”
”Go, wait in thy covert,
Lest the cock crow reveille,
And the dawn should betray thee.”
Then in went that watchman
And called for the fair,
And gently he roused her:
“Rise, lady! Prepare!
New tidings I bring thee,
And strange to thine ear;
Come, rouse thee up quickly,
Thy knight tarries near;
Rise, lady! Appear!”
“Ah, watchman! Though purely
The moon shines above,
Yet trust not securely
That feigned tale of love:
Far, far from my presence
My own knight is straying,
And sadly repining,
I mourn his long staying,
And weep his delaying.”
“Nay, lady! Yet trust me,
No falsehood is there.”
Then up sprang that lady
And braided her hair,
And donned her white garment,
The purest of white,
And, her heart with joy trembling,
She rushed to the site
Of her own faithful knight.
.