Classic Poem

" Thou wilt be mine! " the Swedish monarch sighed.
" No; never thine! " the fair Christine replied.
" Thou hast a queen — a good and lovely bride. "

" But thou shalt have bright robes and laces old,
And thou shalt wear a dazzling crown of gold,
And thou shalt half of all my kingdom hold! "

" My soul is dearer than thy garments bright;
I love not flowers plucked in guilt's dark night;
I fear the wrong, I love God's holy right. "

" Thou shalt be mine, or die in torture dire,
Thou shalt not die by water or by fire,
My love was life, now death is my desire. "

And in a cask, strong-spiked with points of steel,
Men place the maiden, and then roughly wheel
The cask along by blow of fist and heel.

Ah, she is dead, with blood upon her brow;
Three angels with white wings before her bow
And bear her up, — her pain is rapture now.