Alone they sate within the bower:
The mother's colour fled,
For Mary's foot was heard above—
She decked the bridal bed.

And when her foot was on the stairs 70
To meet her at the door,
With steady step the mother rose,
And silent left the bower.

[[272]]She stood, her back against the door,
And when her child drew near— 75
'Away! away!' the mother cried,
'Ye shall not enter here.

'Would ye come here, ye maiden vile,
And rob me of my mate?'
And on her child the mother scowled [80]
A deadly leer of hate.

Fast rooted to the spot, you guess,
The wretched maiden stood,
As pale as any ghost of night
That wanteth flesh and blood. 85

She did not groan, she did not fall,
She did not shed a tear,
Nor did she cry, 'Oh! mother, why
May I not enter here?'

But wildly up the stairs she ran, 90
As if her sense was fled,
And then her trembling limbs she threw
Upon the bridal bed.

The mother she to Edward went
Where he sate in the bower, 95
And said, 'That woman is not fit
To be your paramour.

'She is my child—it makes my heart
With grief and trouble swell;
I rue the hour that gave her birth, 100
For never worse befel.

'For she is fierce and she is proud,
And of an envious mind;
A wily hypocrite she is,
And giddy as the wind. 105