For, oh! I saw on the bank asleep
A fair white nymph, and the slow waves creep,
To bear her away, away.
‘Oh, brother, brother, I watched her through the day,
Saw her hair grow jewelled with spray.
Once her cheek was brushed by a robin's wing,
And a finch flew down on her hand to sing,
And was not afraid to stay.
‘Oh, brother, brother, will she soon awaken be?
I would that she laugh with me.
She sleeps, and the world so full of sound;
She's deaf, like the deaths that are under the ground,
That I laugh and laugh to see.’
Now shall I tell how the Black Earl heeded not the story of the little brother, nor the tragedy that lay therein, for his ear was busy with another sound.
‘Hush,’ said the Black Earl, ‘for hearest thou not a voice in trouble?’
