“Ah what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel’s granary is full,
And the harvest’s done.
“I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever-dew;
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.”
“I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful, a faery’s child;
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
“I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone:
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan.
“I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long;
For sideways would she lean and sing
A faery’s song.
“She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna-dew;
And sure in language strange she said—
‘I love thee true.’
“She took me to her elfin grot,
And there she gazed and sighèd deep,
And there I shut her wild sad eyes—
So kissed to sleep.
“And there we slumbered on the moss,
And there I dreamed—ah woe betide!—
The latest dream I ever dreamed
On the cold hill-side.
“I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors—death-pale were they all;
They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall.’
“I saw their starved lips in the gloam
With horrid warning gapèd wide;
And I awoke, and found me here
On the cold hill-side.