Oh, whither do they ride?"—
"Across the world till Judgment Day,
Childe Ronald and his bride!"
MORGAN Le FAY
In dim samite was she bedight,
And on her hair a hoop of gold,
Like foxfire, in the tawn moonlight,
Was glimmering cold.
Oh, whither do they ride?"—
"Across the world till Judgment Day,
Childe Ronald and his bride!"
In dim samite was she bedight,
And on her hair a hoop of gold,
Like foxfire, in the tawn moonlight,
Was glimmering cold.