“I will her liken to a Laidley Worm,
That warps about the stone,
And not till Childy Wynd comes back,
Shall she again be won.”
PART II
The Princess stood at the bower-door,
Laughing, who could her blame?
But e’er the next day’s sun went down,
A long Worm she became.
For seven miles East, and seven miles West,