O ye lovely nightly faces, Scared away by beams of morning, Tell me, whither have ye fleeted? Tell me, where ye dwell at daytime? Under olden temples’ ruins, Far away in the Romagna (So ’tis said) Diana refuge Seeks by day from Christ’s dominion. Only in the midnight darkness From her hiding place she ventures, And rejoices in the chase With her heathenish companions. And the beauteous fay Abunde Of the Nazarenes is fearful, And throughout the day she lingers Safe within her Avalun. This fair island lies deep-hidden Far off, in the silent ocean Of romance, that none can reach save On the fabled horse’s pinions. Never there casts care its anchor, Never there appears a steamer, Full of wonder-seeking blockheads, With tobacco-pipes in mouth. Never reaches there the languid Sound of bells, so dull and tedious,-- That incessant bim-bom clatter Which the fairies so detest. There, in never-troubled pleasure, And in youth eternal blooming, Still resides the joyous lady, Our blond dame, the fay Abunde. Laughingly her walks there takes she Under lofty heliotropes, With her talking train beside her, World-departed Paladins. Well, and thou, Herodias, prythee Say where art thou? Ah, I know it, Thou art dead, and liest buried By the town Jerusalem! Stiffly sleeps by day thy body, In its marble coffin prison’d; Yet the cracking whips and halloing Waken thee at midnight’s hour, And the wild array thou followest With Diana and Abunde, With thy merry hunting comrades, Who hold cross and pain detested. O what sweet society! Could I hunt with you by night-time Through the forests! By thy side Always would I ride, Herodias! For ’tis thee I love the dearest! More than yonder Grecian goddess, More than yonder Northern fairy, Love I thee, thou Jewess dead! Yes, I love thee! Well I know it By the trembling of my spirit; Love thou me, and be my darling, Sweet Herodias, beauteous woman. I’m the very knight thou wantest! Little truly it concerns me That thou’rt dead and damn’d already, For I’m free from prejudices. My own happiness ’tis only That concerns me, and at times I Feel inclined to doubt if truly To the living I belong! Take me as thy knight, I pray thee, As thy Cavalier servente, And thy mantle will I carry And e’en all thy whims put up with. Every night I’ll ride beside thee, With the army wild careering; Merrily we’ll talk and laugh then At my frenzied conversation. Thus the time I’ll shorten for thee In the night; but yet by day-time All our joy will fly, and weeping On that grave I’ll take my seat.