* * * *
And they rode on, and they rode on;
Far on this pair did ride,
Till the maiden's heart with fear and love
Beat quick against her side.
And on they rode till rocks grew high.
"Sir Knight, what have we here?"
"Unsaddle, maid, for here we stop:"
And death's tongue smote her ear.
Some ruffian rude she took him now,
And wished she'd barred the door,
Nor was it one that she could read
Of having heard before.
"Thou art not my true love," she said,
"But some rude robber loon;
He'd take me from the saddle bow,
Nor leave me to get down."
"I ne'er was your true love," said he,
"For I'm more bold than true;
Though I'm the knight that came at dark
To kiss and toy with you."
"I know you're not my love," said she,
"That came at night and wooed;
Although ye try and mock his speech
His way was ne'er so rude.
He ne'er said word but called me dear,
And dear he is to me:
Ye spake as ye ne'er knew the word,
Rude ruffian as ye be.
Ye never was my knight, I trow,
Ye pay me no regard,
But he would take my arm in his
If we but went a yard."
"No matter whose true love I am;
I'm more than true to you,
For I'll ne'er wed a shepherd wench,—
Although I came to woo."