XLVIII
‘Sing on thy song, thou stable groom,
I will release thee of thy pain.’—
‘Nay, lady, I have made an oath;
I dare not tell my tale again.’—
XLIX
‘Sing on thy song, then, to thy gelding,
And so thy oath shall savèd be.’—
But when he told his horse the tale,
O the lady wept full tenderlye.
L
She sent in for her father the Duke:
‘O sick I am, and like to dee!
Put off my wedding, father,’ she said,
‘For the love of God, these monthës three.’
LI
The lady she did write a letter
Full speedily with her own hand;
She has sent it to the Lord of Lorn
Wheras he dwelt in fair Scotland.
LII
When the Lord of Lorn had read the letter
His lady wept, Lord! bitterlye;
‘Peace, Lady of Lorn, for Christ his love!
And wroken[474] upon him I will be.’