I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful—a fairy’s child; Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild.
I set her on my pacing steed, And nothing else saw all day long; For sideways would she lean and sing A fairy’s song.
AND NOTHING ELSE SAW ALL DAY LONG.
I made a garland for her head, And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She looked at me as she did love, And made sweet moan.
She found me roots of relish sweet, And honey wild, and manna-dew; And sure in language strange she said, I love thee true.
She took me to her elfin grot, And there she gazed and sighèd deep, And there I shut her wild sad eyes— So kissed to sleep.
And there we slumbered on the moss, And there I dreamed, ah! woe betide, The latest dream I ever dreamed, On the cold hill-side.
I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors—death-pale were they all; Who cried, ‘La Belle Dame Sans Mercy Hath thee in thrall!’