“Fair girl,” said he, “those lips of thine were surely made to kiss,
And fain I’d press them close to mine, refuse me not that bliss.”
“No, no,” the blushing lass replied, “no kiss you’ll get from me,
For I’m a true and promised bride, to one who’s far at sea.”
“I am the King,” the monarch said, “must I be disobeyed?”
The maiden slowly dropped her head, and trembled, sore afraid:
Then looking up with marble face, and wet but brave blue eye,
Said she, “Ere thus my troth debase, within the well I die!”
“Enough,” the conquered sovereign cried, “this ring in honor wear,
For truly have I found a bride, as pure as she is fair.”