The Lover.
Ah, yes!
She will not leave me comfortless,
For when within our hearts she makes
Her home, that home she ne’er forsakes.
Love.
Where is the Rose?
The Lover.
Alas! she’s lost,
To Jealousy hath she been tost10900
For gold by Evil-Tongue, and nought
I see how rescue may be wrought.
Love.
What of Fair-Welcome hath become?
The Lover.
Alas! beneath his prison dome
He weeps—my friend, whom loved I so.
Love.
Fair-Welcome must be freed
Take heart, and let thy bosom glow
With hope, for by mine eyes I swear
That thou more joyously shalt fare
Than heretofore hath been thy lot.
Since thou so well my laws dost wot10910
And keep, I will my lieges call
To burst and break the prison wall
That holds Fair-Welcome; soon shall he
Before thee stand, at liberty.
