A Ballad Life seems wed to gaiety As the dancers tread the measure.
Each feels chosen specially For the sacred vows to pleasure.
Rosy cheeks flush ever higher,Faster still the heart's blood races,And the longings of desire Lift the soul to heavenly places.
Kiss fraternal and hearts'union Close all in a circle round,Gone the clash of rank,opinion,Love is lord and in command.
But it is an idle dream That enfolds warm hearts,and flies From this dust and earthly scene,Surging to aethereal skies.
Gods can never bear to see Man,to his own folly blind,Blissfully believing he May span Heaven with an Earthborn mind.
Through the lines a sombre guest Creeps with sword and knife,apart,Envy's fire consumes his breast,And disdain his wretched heart.
She,now in the bridal wreath,Once was love and life to him;
Pledged him once her solemn troth,And her heart she gave to him.
So,to battle for the Good,Trusting her,he went away,And his quest was crowned by Gods;
Deed and valour won the day.
Wreathed in glory,he returns To the township,quiet and still,Where his lovely jewel burns,Where desire and bliss do call.
Now he sees the battlements,And his heart beats violently,Soon he shall win all he wants,Dream shall turn reality.
To the threshold now he races Of the house that he loves so.
Bright with many lamps it blazes,Guests are streaming to and fro.
But the footman there,aloof,Halts him with restraining hand.
"Stranger,would you climb the roof?
Whither leads this rush so blind?"
"Man,I seek Lucinda fair!"
Then the footman,openeyed:
"Anyone may find her here,For Lucinda is the bride!"
Stunned,the stranger stands and sways In his full athletic height,Stands with wide and staring eyes,Staggers up towards the gate.
"You should look your festive best For this gay and brilliant place,If you want to be a guest!"
Calls the footman's uncouth voice.
Proud and grim,he turns in haste,Takes the longfamiliar way.
Heart with rage and grief obsessed,Fury darting from his eye.
To the place of his abode Flies he like the storm wind rushing,And the door bursts open wide At his kicking and his pushing.
Grabs the candle from the maid,Stays his hand,lest tremor show;
With cold sweat the brow's bedewed That beats in silent woe.
On his shoulders lets unfold Cape of purple,wondrous fair,Decks himself with clasps of gold,Loosens and lets fall his hair.
To his bosom's sanctuary Presses he the goldchased sword That he wielded to the glory Of the one whom he adored.
Back he flies on wings of wind To the place of revelry,Heart beyond all bridling,Deadly lightning in his eye.
Trembling,steps he through the door To the brilliant hall within.
Parcae name their victim,pour Curses hissing after him.
Draws he nearer,sad and bowed,Prideful in his stately cloak.
All the guests are frightened,cowed,By his aweinspiring look.
Like a ghost he seems to stride Lonely through the crowded hall.
Onward still the partners glide,Foams the festive goblet full.
Many dancers throng the rows,But Lucinda shines the best.
