a ballad.
101
And when the cock crows and the matins ring,
The Lady she is gone!
The Lady she is gone!
"Now Lady, Lady, the moon shines clear,
And soft the night-winds blow,
Thy watch will be sweet by the chambers drear
Where thy true love sleeps below!"
And soft the night-winds blow,
Thy watch will be sweet by the chambers drear
Where thy true love sleeps below!"
Now slowly, slowly, her steps she bent
Thro' the church-path's lonely track,
Yet tho' all so slowly she thither went,
Full quickly she hied her back!
Thro' the church-path's lonely track,
Yet tho' all so slowly she thither went,
Full quickly she hied her back!
"Oh its I would shrive, go call me a priest,
I have sinn'd in too much sorrow,
And I will away to the midnight feast
And throw by my weeds to-morrow!!
I have sinn'd in too much sorrow,
And I will away to the midnight feast
And throw by my weeds to-morrow!!
