Yonder, on the mountain summit,

In the valley gleam the sparkles
Struck from clashing swords in fight.
Brothers they who thus in fury
Fierce encounter hand to hand ;
Say, what cause could make a brother
‘Gainst a brother turn his brand ?
Countess Laura’s beaming glances
Did the fatal feud inflame,
Kindling both with equal passion
For the fair and noble dame.
Which hath gained the fair one’s favor ?
Which shall win her for his bride ? —
Vain to scan her heart’s inclining;
Draw the sword, let that decide.
Wild and desperate grows the combat,
Clashing strokes like thunder fly ;
All ! beware, ye savage warriors!
Evil powers by night are nigh.
Woe for von, ye bloody brothers !
Woe for thee, thou bloody vale !
By each other’s swords expiring,
Sink the brothers, stark and pale.
Many a century has departed,
Many a race has found a tomb,
Yet from yonder rocky summits
Frown those moss-grown towers of gloom ;
And within the dreary valley
Fearful sights are seen by night ;
There, us midnight strikes, the brothers
Still renew their ghastly fight.

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