One silent night of late,
When every creature rested,
Came one unto my gate
And, knocking, me molested.
Who's that, said I, beats there,
And troubles thus the sleepy?
Cast off, said he, all fear,
And let not locks thus keep ye.
For I a boy am, who
By moonless nights have swerved;
And all with show'rs wet through,
And e'en with cold half starved.
I pitiful arose,
And soon a taper lighted;
And did myself disclose
Unto the lad benighted.
I saw he had a bow
And wings, too, which did shiver;
And, looking down below,
I spied he had a quiver.
I to my chimney's shine
Brought him, as Love professes,
And chafed his hands with mine,
And dried his drooping tresses.
But when he felt him warm'd:
Let's try this bow of ours,
And string, if they be harm'd,
Said he, with these late showers.
Forthwith his bow he bent,
And wedded string and arrow,
And struck me, that it went
Quite through my heart and marrow.
Then, laughing loud, he flew
Away, and thus said, flying:
Adieu, mine host, adieu,
I'll leave thy heart a-dying.