A wounded Chieftain, lying

  By the Danube's leafy side,

Thus faintly said, in dying,

  "Oh! bear, thou foaming tide.

  "This gift to my lady-bride."

'Twas then, in life's last quiver,

  He flung the scarf he wore

Into the foaming river,

  Which, ah too quickly, bore

  That pledge of one no more!

With fond impatience burning,

  The Chieftain's lady stood,

To watch her love returning

  In triumph down the flood,

  From that day's field of blood.

But, field, alas, ill-fated!

  The lady saw, instead

Of the bark whose speed she waited,

  Her hero's scarf, all red

With the drops his heart had shed.

One shriek—and all was over—

  Her life-pulse ceased to beat;

The gloomy waves now cover

  That bridal-flower so sweet.

  And the scarf is her winding sheet!