“The whole discourse that we did hold,
The long night all—
Was of thy virtues manifold,”
I’m passion’s thrall.
The King his little page address’d,
The long night all—
“To come to me the cook request,”
I’m passion’s thrall.
“Thou cook, the Greve to pieces chop,
The long night all—
And to thy Lady serve him up,”
I’m passion’s thrall.
Long sat the Queen, the meat she eyed,
The long night all—
“This is no Roe I’m satisfied,
I’m passion’s thrall.
“But ’tis the Greve our hall who grac’d.”
The long night all—
The pieces she collects in haste,
I’m passion’s thrall.
She wrapped them in white ermine skin,
The long night all—
A gilded chest she placed them in.
I’m passion’s thrall.
She them collects, then wends her slow,
The long night all—
Unto the fount of Maribo.
I’m passion’s thrall.
She dipped them in the water pure,
The long night all—
“Rise, Christian man, I thee conjure!”
I’m passion’s thrall.
The man arose, and thanked his God,
The long night all—
Then from the country forth he trod.
I’m passion’s thrall.