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| BISHOP BRUNO awoke in the dead midnight, | |
| And he heard his heart beat loud with affright: | |
| He dreamt he had rung the palace bell, | |
| And the sound it gave was his passing knell. | |
| |
| Bishop Bruno smiled at his fears so vain, | 5 |
| He turned to sleep and he dreamt again; | |
| He rang at the palace gate once more, | |
| And Death was the Porter that opened the door. | |
| |
| He started up at the fearful dream, | |
| And he heard at his window the screech-owl scream; | 10 |
| Bishop Bruno slept no more that night,— | |
| O, glad was he when he saw the daylight! | |
| |
| Now he goes forth in proud array, | |
| For he with the Emperor dines to-day; | |
| There was not a baron in Germany | 15 |
| That went with a nobler train than he. | |
| |
| Before and behind his soldiers ride, | |
| The people thronged to see their pride; | |
| They bowed the head, and the knee they bent, | |
| But nobody blest him as he went. | 20 |
| |
| So he went on stately and proud, | |
| When he heard a voice that cried aloud, | |
| “Ho! ho! Bishop Bruno! you travel with glee,— | |
| But I would have you know you travel to me!” | |
| |
| Behind and before and on either side | 25 |
| He looked, but nobody he espied; | |
| And the Bishop at that grew cold with fear, | |
| For he heard the words distinct and clear. | |
| |
| And when he rang at the palace bell, | |
| He almost expected to hear his knell; | 30 |
| And when the porter turned the key, | |
| He almost expected Death to see. | |
| |
| But soon the Bishop recovered his glee, | |
| For the Emperor welcomed him royally; | |
| And now the tables were spread, and there | 35 |
| Were choicest wines and dainty fare. | |
| |
| And now the Bishop had blest the meat, | |
| When a voice was heard as he sat in his seat,— | |
| “With the Emperor now you are dining with glee, | |
| But know, Bishop Bruno! you sup with me!” | 40 |
| |
| The Bishop then grew pale with affright, | |
| And suddenly lost his appetite; | |
| All the wine and dainty cheer | |
| Could not comfort his heart that was sick with fear. | |
| |
| But by little and little recovered he, | 45 |
| For the wine went flowing merrily, | |
| Till at length he forgot his former dread, | |
| And his cheeks again grew rosy red. | |
| |
| When he sat down to the royal fare | |
| Bishop Bruno was the saddest man there, | 50 |
| But when the maskers entered the hall, | |
| He was the merriest man of all. | |
| |
| Then from amid the maskers’ crowd | |
| There went a voice hollow and loud,— | |
| “You have past the day, Bishop Bruno, in glee, | 55 |
| But you must pass the night with me!” | |
| |
| His cheek grows pale, and his eyeballs glare, | |
| And stiff round his tonsure bristled his hair; | |
| With that there came one from the maskers’ band, | |
| And took the Bishop by the hand. | 60 |
| |
| The bony hand suspended his breath, | |
| His marrow grew cold at the touch of Death; | |
| On saints in vain he attempted to call, | |
| Bishop Bruno fell dead in the palace hall. | |
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