To waste upon a hound, O.
'I'd give my stags, my hills and dales,
My stormcocks and my nightingales
To have undone this deed, O;
For deep beneath
My heart is death
Which for her love doth bleed, O.'
Wanders he up, wanders he down,
On foot, a-horse, by night and noon:
His lands are bleak and drear, O;