'Hadst thou been fond, he had been false,
And left thee sad and heavy;
For young men ever were fickle found,
Since summer trees were leafy.'
'Now say not so, thou holy friar,
I pray thee say not so;
My love he had the truest heart,
Oh, he was ever true!
'And art thou dead, thou much lov'd youth,
And didst thou die for me?
Then farewell, home; for evermore
A pilgrim I will be.
'But first upon my true-love's grave
My weary limbs I'll lay,
And thrice I'll kiss the green-grass turf
That wraps his breathless clay.'
'Yet stay, fair lady, rest a while
Beneath this cloister wall;
See, through the thorn blows cold the wind
And drizzly rain doth fall.'
'Oh, stay me not, thou holy friar;
Oh, stay me not, I pray;
No drizzly rain that falls on me
Can wash my fault away.'
'Yet stay, fair lady, turn again,
And dry those pearly tears;
For see, beneath this gown of grey
Thy own true-love appears.
'Here, forced by grief and hopeless love,
These holy weeds I sought,
And here amid these lonely walls
To end my days I thought.
'But haply, for my year of grace
Is not yet pass'd away,
Might I still hope to win thy love,
No longer would I stay.'
'Now farewell grief, and welcome joy
Once more unto my heart;
For since I have found thee, lovely youth,
We never more will part.'