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A poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe |
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The Faithless Boy |
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Title: The Faithless Boy Author: Johann Wolfgang von Goethe [More Titles by Goethe] THERE was a wooer blithe and gay, A son of France was he, As though his bride were she, And then at length deserted. When this was told the nut-brown maid, Her senses straightway fled; And presently was dead. Then sprang upon his charger. He drove his spurs into his side, And scour'd the country round; No rest for him was found. It bluster'd, lighten'd, thunder'd. On rode he through the tempest's din, Till he a building spied; When he his steed had tied. He fell a hundred fathoms. When he recover'd from the blow, He saw three lights pass by; The lights appear'd to fly. Through ruin'd desert cellars. When lo! he stood within a hall, With hollow eyes. and grinning all; A hundred guests sat there. She turn'd, and----*
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