New sorrowe seiz'd the damsells all: 145
At length they faultering say;
"Alas! my lord, how shall we tell?
Thy son is stoln away.
"Fair as the sweetest flower of spring,
Such was his infant mien: 150
And on his little body stampt
Three wonderous marks were seen:
"A blood-red cross was on his arm;
A dragon on his breast:
A little garter all of gold 155
Was round his leg exprest.
"Three carefull nurses we provide
Our little lord to keep:
One gave him sucke, one gave him food,
And one did lull to sleep. 160
"But lo! all in the dead of night,
We heard a fearful sound:
Loud thunder clapt; the castle shook;
And lightning flasht around.
"Dead with affright at first we lay; 165
But rousing up anon,
We ran to see our little lord:
Our little lord was gone!
"But how or where we could not tell;
For lying on the ground, 170
In deep and magic slumbers laid,
The nurses there we found."
O grief on grief! lord Albret said:
No more his tongue cou'd say,
When falling in a deadly swoone, 175
Long time he lifeless lay.
At length restor'd to life and sense
He nourisht endless woe,
No future joy his heart could taste,
No future comfort know. 180
So withers on the mountain top
A fair and stately oake,
Whose vigorous arms are torne away,
By some rude thunder-stroke.