Silent sat all the maidens,
And never spoke a word;
All save the youngest maiden,
Stood at the queen’s own board.
“If I so old were waxen
That my maiden days were over,
So help me God in Heaven!
Thou shouldst not be my lover.
“I must bide in my bower ...
I can both broider and sew—
Thou wouldst mount thy gallant steed,
Go gadding to and fro.
“I must bide in my bower ...
Right well can I spread my board—
Thou in the Thing wouldst be standing,
And wasting full many a word.
“I must bide in my bower,
A-guiding my household gear—
Thou wouldst be sitting ’mid lords and knights,
Nor holding thy tongue for fear.”
Up he stood, Sir Peter,
So ready with his tongue—
“Lo! I have found the self-same maid
That I had sought so long!”
Merry were all the maidens
That goodly game to see;
The queen she gave the maid away,
Sir Peter’s bride to be!
Under the lindens, there will I bide.
THE WOOING OF RANIL JONSON
Ranil bade saddle his steed so free—
“The wealthy Margrave I’ll go see,
Tho’ I am severed both from friends and kinsmen.”