“All up among the mountains, Amid the forests dim, There stands a ruined castle, A castle old and grim: And in its shade at evening The elves are wont to meet, To dance upon the mosses And sway with lilies sweet. Well, yestere’en, it happened, Just at the midnight hour, While we were making merry, Forth from the vine-wreathed tower There came a plaintive moaning, And I alone who heard Flew up the twining ivy, As lightly as a bird, And found on high a dungeon Beneath the shattered roof, And there a pale young captive From mortal aid aloof, By heavy, clanking irons Chained to the wall of stone. O Jungenthor, good reason Has he to weep and moan! And this is what he told me, And this is what he told; Now hear, O mighty giant, What fiends the earth doth hold: “‘All up a mountain pathway, That winds through forests green, There rode three gallant horsemen And nevermore were seen. Three other gallant horsemen Rode up in search of them, Rode up the narrow pathway— And came not back again. And after went three others The mountain searching o’er— It fared with those three others As with them that went before. And all the people marveled, And all were filled with fear, And no one dared to venture The mountain pathway near. “‘Now, one of those nine horsemen Was a knight of our good King; And so a prize he offered To any who should bring A true report and trusty Of all those hapless men Who ventured up the mountain And ne’er came down again. Whoso should dare the pathway And bring a true report, Thus he should be rewarded— Oh, he should dwell at court, And all should do him honor, And the King should make him knight, And give to him a war-horse And a suit of armor bright! “‘Now, we are seven brothers, So hale, and strong, and tall, Save me, who am the seventh, The youngest of them all; And for my lowly stature, Fair face, and yellow curls, The rest they loved to taunt me And tease the livelong day, The while we watched the cattle Or turned the new-mown hay. “Go hence, go hence, fair lily, And haste thee,” they would say; “Lest thou shouldst tan or freckle Beneath the burning sun, Go get thyself a bonnet To shield thee, gentle one! Go gossip with old women! Go spin and sew with girls!”