"How was it that thou thy father lost?" "He was slain, and I saw the deed." "How was it that thou thy lover lost?" "My father he slew, and I saw the deed. I wept so bitterly When he roughly would woo me, He at last set me free, And forbore to pursue me. Let me in, for the horror my soul doth fill That I love him still." CHORUS OF NUNS WITHIN THE CHURCH Come child, come bride, To God's own side. From grief find rest On Jesus' breast. Rest thy burden of sorrow On Horeb's height; Like the lark, with to-morrow Shall thy soul take flight. Here stilled is all yearning, No passion returning, No terror come near thee Where the Saviour can hear thee! For He, if in need be Thy storm-beaten soul, Though it bruised as a reed be, Shall raise it up whole. THE PLEA OF KING MAGNUS From 'Sigurd Slembe' "But once more let me the heavens see, When the stars their watch are keeping," Young Magnus begged, and fell on his knee; It was sad to see, And the women away turned weeping. "Let me once more the mountains see, And the blue of the ocean far-reaching, Only once more, and then let it be!" And he fell on his knee, While his friends were for pity beseeching. "Let me go to the church, that the sacred sight Of the blood of God may avail me; That my eyes may bathe in its holy light, Ere the day take flight, And my vision forever shall fail me!" But the sharp steel sped, and the shadows fell, As the darkness the day o'erpowers. "Magnus our king, farewell, farewell!" "So farewell, farewell, All my friends of so many glad hours." Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin and Company, Boston. SIN AND DEATH From 'Sigurd Slembe' Sin and Death, at break of day, Day, day, Spoke together with bated breath; Marry thee, sister, that I may stay, Stay, stay, In thy house, quoth Death. Death laughed aloud when Sin was wed, Wed, wed, And danced on the bridal day; But bore that night from the bridal bed, Bed, bed, The groom in a shroud away. Death came to her sister at break of day, Day, day, And Sin drew a weary breath; He whom thou lovest is mine for aye, Aye, aye, Mine he is, quoth Death. Copyrighted by Houghton, Mifflin and Company, Boston. /& THE PRINCESS The Princess sat lone in her maiden bower, The lad blew his horn at the foot of the tower. "Why playest thou alway? Be silent, I pray, It fetters my thoughts that would flee far away, As the sun goes down."