Sir Hugh and the Swans
Woe's me, that saw them stretch their necks
And hiss, as traitors do;
I saw them arch their evil wings
And strike and stun Sir Hugh.
The king looked out o' the window bars,
And he was sad belike;
But I could not see my lord the king
For the drowned face in the dyke.
The sleepy warders woke and stirred,
"The swans are mad in the moat!"
I lifted up Sir Hugh o' the Rose
And laid him in the boat.
I made him a sark of rushes.
With stones at the feet and head. . . .
In the deepest dyke of Flanders
Sir Hugh o' the Rose lies dead.
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