The very next morn, the very next morn,
When rose the sun in gold,
Full three times ten bold knightly men
Were waiting on the wold.
Full three times ten bold knightly men,
On a bonny grey steed each one;
With silk so white was the courser dight
Which the maid should ride upon.
But what think ye that maiden did
Ere mounting on her horse?
A draught she drank of poison rank,
Thought death her wisest course.
Through the shallow streams they dashed their steeds,
Through the deep their steeds they swam;
And ever and anon the maid would groan,
“How dreadfully ill I am.”
And when they came to the house of the knight,
Where the bridal kept should be;
Spread out on the earth was silk of worth,
And gold so red of blee.
“Now thou may’st see, my lady love,
That I my promise hold;
Now thou dost tread on silk outspread,
And not on the earth so cold.”
“There’s spread enough of the silken stuff,
And plenty of gold is strown;
But better I ween in heaven sheen
With our Father God to wone.”
Then they led her to the high, high hall,
And in scarlet her array’d;
But their joy was brief, soon came their grief,
She died alack a maid!
Thanks be to him the youthful knight,
No truer e’er was seen;
He built her a grave in the church, and gave
The churchmen farms fifteen.
Then as he stood by the maiden’s grave,
The gallant young noble cried:
“O would to God beneath the sod
I were lying by her side!”