“Now who’s the bold wight that dares come here
To trouble my fairy fountain clear?
“Either thou straight shall wed with me,
Or pine for four long years and three;
Or dead in three days’ space shall be.”
“I will not wed with thee, I ween,
For wedded man a year I’ve been;
“Nor yet for seven years will I pine,
Nor die in three days for spell of thine;
“For spell of thine I will not die,
But when it pleaseth God on high.
“But here, and now, I’d leave my life,
Ere take a Corrigaun to wife.
. . . . . . . . . .
“O mother, mother! for love of me,
Now make my bed, and speedily,
For I am sick as a man can be.
“Oh, never the tale to my lady tell;
Three days and ye’ll hear my passing bell;
The Corrigaun hath cast her spell.”
Three days they pass’d, three days were sped,
To her mother-in-law the ladye said;
“Now tell me, madam, now tell me, pray,
Wherefore the death-bells toll to-day?
“Why chaunt the priests in the street below,
All clad in their vestments white as snow?”