Betrothed her to De Grey,
And the ring you put upon her hand
Was wrenched by force away.
“Then wept your Jane upon my neck,
Crying, ‘Help me, nurse, to flee
To my Howel Bann’s Glamorgan hills;’
But word arrived—ah me!—
“You were not there; and ’twas their threat,
By foul means or by fair,
To-morrow morning was to set