And now she saw the clasp of pearl A ruby lustre taking: And thrice she heard the Castle bell Ring out a loud funereal knell The antique turrets shaking. O! then how pale the BARON grew, His eyes wide staring fearful! While o’er the Virgin’s image fair A sable veil was borne on air Shading her dim eyes, tearful. And, on her breast a clasp of pearl Was stain’d with blood, fast flowing: And round her lovely waist she wore An amber zone; a cross she bore Of rubies—richly glowing. The Bride, her dove-like eyes to Heav’n Rais’d, calling Christ to save her! The cross now danc’d upon her breast; The shudd’ring Priest his fears confest, And benedictions gave her. Upon the pavement sunk the Bride Cold as a corpse, and fainting! The pearly clasp, self-bursting, show’d Her beating side, where crimson glow’d Three spots, of nature’s painting. Three crimson spots, of deepest hue! The BARON gaz’d with wonder: For on his buried Lady’s side Just three such drops had nature dyed, An equal space asunder. And now remembrance brought to view, For Heav’n the truth discloses, The Baby, who had early died, Bore, tinted on its little side, Three spots—as red as roses! Now, ere the wedding-day had past, Stern GOLFRE, and his Bride Walk’d forth to taste the ev’ning breeze Soft sighing, mid the sombre trees, That drest the mountain’s side. And now, beneath the grove of Pine, Two lovely Forms were gliding; A Lady, with a beauteous face! A Youth with stern, but manly, grace Smil’d,—as in scorn deriding. Close, by the wond’ring Bride they pass’d, The red Sun sinking slowly: And to the little cross they hied— And there she saw them, side by side, Kneeling, with fervour holy. The little cross was golden ting’d The western radiance stealing; And now it bore a purple hue, And now all black and dim it grew, And still she saw them, kneeling. White were their robes as fleecy snow Their faces pale, yet chearful. Their golden hair, like waves of light Shone lust’rous mid the glooms of night; Their starry eyes were tearful.