Alaric 歌词

Our power is pass'd, our spells have been cast And penitent now for life art thou Thy spells were sure, for now peace secure Doth bless king Alaric's bed, — But it is the peace of the dead. For down went the king, and his palace, and all And already in his hall are the flag-reeds tall, And the long green rushes grow. Then take thy bride to thy cloister'd bed, — But it is the place of the dead. And oft from our boat on a Summer's eve Sweet music is heard to flow. As we push from the side of the Blue-Lake's tide Where the long green rushes grow And the waters now o'er it flow, Above king Alaric's head, — But it is the place of the dead.