Now, when the Black Earl heard the voice of his lady coming from the waters in such sorrow, he rose with a cry, and, his heart being full of fear, he knew at last the greatness of his love.
"Where art thou, then?" he cried, in his woe. "Whither shall I seek thee?"
But the little stream passing his feet murmured its prayer in going; no other sound did he hear save the far-away laughter of his little brother.
"Oh, Mary, Mother, pray my soul to rest! Take mercy, Lord, on a soul afraid."
"Where are the lips from which thou hast stolen that cry?" said the Black Earl; and, like an old man bent with trouble, he sought the banks, seeking for the white form of his bride. "Now," quoth he, "well do I know this stream hath carried her last cry to my feet, and her drowning lips have been forced to sinful death to-night by my long cruelty."
He went up the hill as a man goeth to despair, slow and afraid; and when he reached the little wood in whose bosom the lake was enshrined, he paused and looked around.
Of this shall I sing, for so sad and piteous it is that my harp would fain soothe me from tears:
He looked into the deep wood green,
But nothing there did see;
He looked into the still water
Beneath, all white, lay she.
He drew her from her cold, cold bed,
And kissed her cheek and chin;
Loosed from his neck his silken cloak,
To wrap her body in.
He took her up in his two arms—
His grief was deep and wild;
He knelt beside her on the sod,
And sorrowed like a child.