Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, SIR OLAVE, by HEINRICH HEINE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

SIR OLAVE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: At the door of the cathedral
Last Line: "we plighted our vows of love tender."
Subject(s): Bells; Churches; Life; Marriage; Cathedrals; Weddings; Husbands; Wives


I.

AT the door of the cathedral
Stand two men, both wearing red coats,
And the first one is the monarch,
And the headsman is the other.

To the headsman spake the monarch:
"By the priest's song I can gather
"That the wedding is now finish'd --
"Keep thy trusty hatchet ready!"

To the sound of bells and organ
From the church the people issue
In a motley throng, and 'mongst them
Move the gay-dress'd bridal couple.

Pale as death and sad and mournful
Looks the monarch's lovely daughter;
Bold and joyous looks Sir Olave,
And his ruddy lips are smiling.

And with smiling ruddy lips he
Thus the gloomy king addresses:
"Father of my wife, good morning!
"Forfeited to-day my head is.

"I to-day must die, -- O suffer,
"Suffer me to live till midnight,
"That I may with feast and torch-dance
"Celebrate my happy wedding!

"Let me live, O let me live, sire,
"Till I've drain'd the final goblet,
"Till the final dance is finish'd --
"Suffer me to live till midnight!"

To the headsman spake the monarch:
"To our son-in-law a respite
"Of his life we grant till midnight --
"Keep thy trusty hatchet ready!"

II.

SIR OLAVE he sits at his wedding repast,
And every goblet is drained at last;
Upon his shoulder reclines
His wife and pines --
At the door the headsman is standing.

The dance begins, and Sir Olave takes hold
Of his youthful wife, and with haste uncontroll'd
They dance by the torches' glow
Their last dance below --
At the door the headsman is standing.

The fiddles strike up, so merry and glad,
The flutes they sound so mournful and sad;
Whoever their dancing then saw
Was filled with awe --
At the door the headsman is standing.

And as they dance in the echoing hall,
To his wife speaks Sir Olave, unheard by them all:
"My love will be ne'er known to thee --
"The grave yawns for me --"
At the door the headsman is standing.

III.

SIR OLAVE, 'tis the midnight hour,
Thy days of life are number'd;
In a king's daughter's arms instead
Thou thoughtest to have slumber'd.

The monks they mutter the prayers for the dead,
The man the red coat wearing
Already before the black block stands,
His polish'd hatchet bearing.

Sir Olave descends to the court below,
Where the swords and the lights are gleaming;
The ruddy lips of the Knight they smile,
And he speaks with a countenance beaming:

"I bless the sun, and I bless the moon,
"And the stars in the heavens before me;
"I bless too the little birds that sing
"In the air so merrily o'er me.

"I bless the sea and I bless the land,
"And the flow'rs that the meadow's life are;
"I bless the violets, which are as soft
"As the eyes of my own dear wife are.

"Ye violet eyes of my own dear wife,
"My life for your sakes I surrender!
"I bless the elder-tree, under whose shade
"We plighted our vows of love tender."





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