I pray you, drink this cordial wine!
It is a wine of virtuous powers;
My mother made it of wild flowers."
"And will your mother pity me,
Who am a maiden most forlorn?"
Christabel answer'd—"Woe is me!
She died the hour that I was born.
I have heard the grey-hair'd friar tell,
How on her death-bed she did say,
That she should hear the castle-bell