All woe-begone, and sad was she; 25
She nourisht constant woe:
Yet strove to hide it from her lord,
Lest he should sorrow know.
In vain she strove, her tender lord,
Who watch'd her slightest look, 30
Discover'd soon her secret pain,
And soon that pain partook.
And when to him the fearful cause
She weeping did impart,
With kindest speech he strove to heal 35
The anguish of her heart.
Be comforted, my lady dear,
Those pearly drops refrain;
Betide me weal, betide me woe,
I'll try to ease thy pain. 40
And for this foul and fearful dream,
That causeth all thy woe,
Trust me I'll travel far away
But I'll the meaning knowe.
Then giving many a fond embrace, 45
And shedding many a teare,
To the weïrd lady of the woods
He purpos'd to repaire.
To the weïrd lady of the woods,
Full long and many a day, 50
Thro' lonely shades, and thickets rough
He winds his weary way.
At length he reach'd a dreary dell
With dismal yews o'erhung;
Where cypress spred its mournful boughs, 55
And pois'nous nightshade sprung.
No chearful gleams here pierc'd the gloom,
He hears no chearful sound;
But shrill night-ravens' yelling scream,
And serpents hissing round. 60
The shriek of fiends, and damned ghosts
Ran howling thro' his ear:
A chilling horror froze his heart,
Tho' all unus'd to fear.