Scarce eight months had passed away
When she to the Prince would come,
And with subtlety would say,
"Would you lose both wife and home?
"Have a care, lest what I tell
Should befall you; so 'twere best
Have a care and guard you well,
'Ware the cuckoo in your nest."
"Madam, if the truth you tell,
Meet reward her crime shall earn,
First the round tower's straitest cell,
Then in nine days she shall burn."
III.
When the old King was aware,
Bitter tears the greybeard shed.
Tore in grief his white, white hair,
Crying, "Would God that I were dead!"
And to all the seamen said,
"Good seamen, pray you tell me true,
Is there, then, any one of you
Can tell me if my child be dead?"
"My liege, as yet alive is she,
Though burned to-morrow shall she be:
But from her prison tower, O King!
Morning and eve we hear her sing.
"Morning and eve, from her fair throat
Issues the same sweet plaintive note,
'They are deceived; I kiss Thy rod:
Have pity on them, O my God!'"
IV.
Even as a lamb who gives its life
All meekly to the cruel knife,
White-robed she went, her soft feet bare,
Self-shrouded in her golden hair.