Here a long while sat the Lady Mevrian. She had a little lute wrought of sweet sandalwood and ivory inlaid with gems. While she sat a-thinking, her fingers strayed idly on the strings, and she sang in a low sweet voice:
There were three ravens sat on a tree,
They were as black as they might be.
With a downe, derrie down.
The one of them said to his make,
Where shall we our breakefast take?
Downe in yonder greene field,
There lies a knight slain under his shield.
His hounds they lie downe at his feete,
So well they can their master keepe.