His robes are black, but woe doth shroud
His heart in darker gloom;
And lo, he stretches, sobbing loud,
His form upon her tomb. --'Oh! open, grave, my heart is riven,
I taste delight no more,
Let death unite us now, whom heaven
In life asunder tore. 'And her who calmly sleeps beneath
Again to me reveal,
That by her side, I may, in death,
My crime with her conceal.