For whereas twenty men were wont
To wait with bended knee,
She gave allowance but to ten,
And after scarce to three,
Nay, one she thought too much for him;85
So took she all away,
In hope that in her court, good king,
He would no longer stay.
"Am I rewarded thus," quoth he,
"In giving all I have90
Unto my children, and to beg
For what I lately gave?
I'll go unto my Gonorel:
My second child, I know,
Will be more kind and pitiful,95
And will relieve my woe."
Full fast he hies then to her court;
Where, when she hears his moan,
Return'd him answer, that she griev'd
That all his means were gone;100
But no way could relieve his wants;
Yet if that he would stay
Within her kitchen, he should have
What scullions gave away.
When he had heard, with bitter tears,105
He made his answer then;
"In what I did, let me be made
Example to all men.
I will return again," quoth he,
"Unto my Ragan's court;110
She will not use me thus, I hope,
But in a kinder sort."
Where when he came, she gave command
To drive him thence away:
When he was well within her court,115
She said, he would not stay.
Then back again to Gonorell
The woeful king did hie,
That in her kitchen he might have
What scullion boys set by.120
But there of that he was deny'd
Which she had promis'd late:
For once refusing, he should not
Come after to her gate.
Thus twixt his daughters for relief125
He wandred up and down,
Being glad to feed on beggars food,
That lately wore a crown.
And calling to remembrance then
His youngest daughter's words,130
That said, the duty of a child
Was all that love affords—
But doubting to repair to her,
Whom he had banish'd so,
Grew frantick mad; for in his mind135
He bore the wounds of woe.
Which made him rend his milk-white locks
And tresses from his head,
And all with blood bestain his cheeks,
With age and honour spread.140
To hills and woods and watry founts
He made his hourly moan,
Till hills and woods and senseless things
Did seem to sigh and groan.