And bitterly lament and weep, 105
With many a grievous grone:
Then sore his bleeding heart misgave,
His lady's life was gone.
With faultering step he enters in,
Yet half affraid to goe; 110
With trembling voice asks why they grieve,
Yet fears the cause to knowe.
"Three times the sun hath rose and set;"
They said, then stopt to weep:
"Since heaven hath laid thy lady deare 115
In death's eternal sleep.
"For, ah! in travel sore she fell,
So sore that she must dye;
Unless some shrewd and cunning leech
Could ease her presentlye. 120
"But when a cunning leech was fet,
Too soon declared he,
She, or her babe must lose its life;
Both saved could not be.
"Now take my life, thy lady said, 125
My little infant save:
And O commend me to my lord,
When I am laid in grave.
"O tell him how that precious babe
Cost him a tender wife: 130
And teach my son to lisp her name,
Who died to save his life.
"Then calling still upon thy name,
And praying still for thee;
Without repining or complaint, 135
Her gentle soul did flee."
What tongue can paint lord Albret's woe,
The bitter tears he shed,
The bitter pangs that wrung his heart,
To find his lady dead? 140
He beat his breast: he tore his hair;
And shedding many a tear,
At length he askt to see his son;
The son that cost so dear.