The Ladye, in sore distress,
Wept night and day in her lonely bower,
Bewailing her haughtiness.[[6]]
At length she summoned her trusty Page--
“Speed over the hills” said she,
“Go tell my lover I wait for him
Where the Rhine runs down to the sea.”[[7]]
* * * *
But the Knight came not, nor sent he word,
Save this one short message: “Wait.”