"What did you tell the foolish wench,
Who must my lady be?
The false tale you did tell to her
You now must tell to me."
"I hate you, Black Earl Roderick,
You're cruel, hard, and cold;
Yet you shall grieve like a young child
Before the moon is cold.
"This did I tell her, like a queen
She'd ride into the town;
And every man who met her there
Would on his knees go down.
"I said that he who followed none
Would walk behind her now,
And in his trembling hand the helm
From his uncovered brow.
"Then he should walk, while she would ride,
Through all the town away;
And greater than Earl Roderick
She would become that day."
And now shall I tell how laughed the Black Earl aloud and scornful at the witch's tale.
"No lady in the land," quoth he, "could so enslave me, and no woman yet was born who hath my honor and glory."
So spoke Earl Roderick, and by these words shalt thou hold him, heart-whole and vain withal, for the hour of his sorrow had not yet struck.
Now turned he to the dame, and, chiding her, bade her begone.
"Thy tale," saith he, "is full of weariness. It hath neither wisdom nor truth."