'Twas four and twenty ladies fair
Were sitting on the grass;
But he has turned and looked on her,
And will not let her pass.
'You've maidens here, and maidens there,
And loves through all the land;
But what have you made of the lady fair
You gave the rose-garland?'
She was so harsh and cold of love,
To me gave little grace;
She wept if I but touched her hand,
Or kissed her bonny face.
'Yea, crows shall build in the eagle's nest,
The hawk the dove shall wed,
Before my old true love and I
Meet in one wedding bed.'
When she had heard his bitter rede
That was his old true love,
She sat and wept within her bower,
And moaned even as a dove.
She rose up from her window seat,
And she looked out to see;
Her love came riding up the street
With a goodly company.
He was clad on with Venice gold,
Wrought upon cramoisie,
His yellow hair shone like the sun
About his fair body.
'Now shall I call him blossomed branch
That has ill knots therein?
Or shall I call him basil plant,
That comes of an evil kin?
'Oh, I shall give him goodly names,
My sword of damask fine;
My silver flower, my bright-winged bird,
Where go you, lover mine?'
'I go to marry my new bride,
That I bring o'er the down;
And you shall be her bridal maid,
And hold her bridal crown.'
'When you come to the bride chamber
Where your fair maiden is,
You'll tell her I was fair of face,
But never tell her this,
'That still my lips were lips of love,
My kiss love's spring-water,
That my love was a running spring,
My breast a garden fair.
Pages:
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41