Is never a loser,” she said.
The lover rose with a smothered sigh,
But never a prayer prayed he--
As mounting his steed, away he rode,
Where the Rhine runs down to the sea.
The Ladye frowned, and the Ladye wept
In her love and wrath and pain,
For she had not dreamed he could thus obey
And ride from her side again.[[4]]
Then twice the seasons came and went