‘O Christ thee save!’ Lord Thomas he said,
‘Methinks thou look’st wondrous wan;
Thou was used to look with as fresh a colour
As ever the sun shined on.’
XXXII
‘O art thou blind, Lord Thomas?’ she said,
‘Or canst thou not very well see?
Or dost thou not see my own heart’s blood
Runs trickling down my knee?’
XXXIII
Lord Thomas he saw Fair Annet was pale,
And marvellèd what mote be;
But when he saw her dear heart’s blood,
All wood-wroth[387] waxèd he.
XXXIV
He drew his dagger frae his side,
That was so sharp and meet,
And drave it into the nut-brown bride,
That fell dead at his feet.
XXXV
‘Now stay for me, dear Annet,’ he said,
‘Now stay, my dear!’ he cried;
Then strake the dagger untill his heart,
And fell dead by her side.