‘She comes with sorrow in her eyes
Home in the dawning light;
My lord, she is so weak and young
To travel in the night.’
Now stern grew Black Earl Roderick,
But answered not at all;
He took his hunting harness down
That hung upon the wall.
Then quickly went he to the chase,
And slowly came he back,
And there he met his old sweetheart,
Who stood across his track.
So shall I tell how she, sighing and white of face, laid her soft hand upon his bridle-rein, so he could not go from her. Her breath came out of her like the hissing of a trodden snake, poisoning the ear of the horseman.
‘Bend to me thy proud head, Black Earl,’ quoth she, ‘for it shall be low enough soon. This is a tale I bring to thee of sorrow and shame. Bend me thy proud neck, Black Roderick, for the burden I must lay
