And bitter elder, broken from the bough."
"Ne ever sing the love-lays which he made;
Whoever made such lays of love as he?
Ne ever read the riddles, which he said
Unto yourselves, to make you merry glee.
Your merry glee is now laid all abed,
Your merry-maker now, alas! is dead."
"Death! the devourer of all world's delight,
Hath robbèd you, and reft from me my joy;
Both you and me and all the world, he quite