There stands on yonder
high mountain
A castle built of yore
Where once lurked
horse and horseman
In rear of gate and of door
Now
door and gate are in ashes
And all around is so still
And
over the fallen ruins
I clamber just as I will
Below
once lay a cellar
With costly wines well stored
No more
the glad maid with her pitcher
Descends there to draw from the
hoard
No longer the goblet she places
Before the
guests at the feast
The flask at the meal so hallowed
No
longer she fills for the priest
No more for the eager
squire
The draught in the passage is poured
No more for
the flying present
Receives she the flying reward
For
all the roof and the rafters
They all long since have been
burned
And stairs and passage and chapel
To rubbish and
ruins are turned
Yet when with lute and with flagon
When
day was smiling and bright
I've watched my mistress climbing
To
gain this perilous height
Then rapture joyous and
radiant
The silence so desolate brake
And all, as in days
long vanished
Once more to enjoyment awoke
As if for
guests of high station
The largest rooms were prepared
As
if from those times so precious
A couple thither had
fared
As if there stood in his chapel
The priest in
his sacred dress
And asked, 'Would ye twain be united?'
And
we, with a smile, answered, 'Yes!'
And songs that breathed a
deep feeling
That touched the heart's innermost chord
The
music-fraught mouth of sweet echo
Instead of the many,
outpoured
And when at eve all was hidden
In silence
unbroken and deep
The glowing sun then looked upwards
And
gazed on the summit so steep
And squire and maiden then
glittered
As bright and gay as a lord
She seized the time
for her present
And he to give her reward
