Veiled in a dusky glory
My love sheds forth her light,
Like a dim, woeful story
Told in a summer-night.

“In a magic grove two lovers,
Are silently wandering;
Around them the moonlight hovers,
Above them the nightingales sing.

“The lady stands fixed and defiant;
Before her kneels the knight;
From the forest strides forth the giant;
The lady flees in affright.

“In his blood the knight lies dying;
The giant plods back to his hold”—
When I in my grave am lying,
The end of the tale may be told.