If so, know your accuser's dead,
And dying own'd his crime;
And long your lord hath sought you out
Thro' every foreign clime.
And when no tidings he could learn
Of his much wrongèd wife,
He vow'd thenceforth within his court
To lead a hermit's life.
Now heaven is kind! the lady said;
And dropped a joyful tear:
Shall I once more behold my lord?
That lord I love so dear?
But, madam, said sir Valentine,
And knelt upon his knee;
Know you the cloak that wrapt your babe,
If you the same should see?
And pulling forth the cloth of gold,
In which himself was found;
The lady gave a sudden shriek,
And fainted on the ground.
But by his pious care reviv'd,
His tale she heard anon;
And soon by other tokens found,
He was indeed her son.
But who's this hairy youth? she said;
He much resembles thee:
The bear devour'd my younger son,
Or sure that son were he.
Madam, this youth with bears was bred,
And rear'd within their den.
But recollect ye any mark
To know your son again?
Upon his little side, quoth she,
Was stamped a bloody rose.
Here, lady, see the crimson mark
Upon his body grows!
Then clasping both her new-found sons
She bath'd their cheeks with tears:
And soon towards her brother's court
Her joyful course she steers.