‘Where is he?’ then to her he said.—
‘He’s in the stable,’ quoth the maid.—
‘Go in,’ said he, ‘and go to bed;
I’ll see the horse well litterèd.’
XXI
He stared about, and there could he
No shape of any mankind see,
But found his horse all on a sweat;
Which made him in a deadly fret.
XXII
His daughter he said nothing to,
Nor no-one else (though well they knew
That he was dead a month before),
For fear of grieving her full sore.
XXIII
Her father to his father went
Who was deceased, with full intent
To tell him what his daughter said;
So both came back unto this maid.
XXIV
They ask’d her, and she still did say
’Twas he that then brought her away;
Which when they heard, they were amazed,
And on each other strangely gazed.