On lovely Barna's wild-wood tree.
There was a raven, black and drear,
Stained with blood all loathsomely,
Perched upon the branches near,
Croaking mournfully,
And he said, "O dove, what bring'st thou here
To lovely Barna's wild-wood tree?"
"I'm coming from a ladye gay,
To the young heir of sweet Glenore,
His ring returned, it is to say