Part 5 (2/2)

'Now where are all my pages keen, And where are all my serving men?

'My daughter must lie in the tower alway, Where she shall never see the day.'

Seven long years are past and gone And there has seen her never one.

At ending of the seventh year Her father goes to visit her.

'My child, my child, how may you be?'

'O father, it fares ill with me.

'My feet are wasted in the mould, The worms they gnaw my side so cold.'

'My child, change your love speedily Or you must still in prison lie.'

''Tis better far the cold to dree Than give my true love up for thee.'

THE MILK WHITE DOE.

IT was a mother and a maid That walked the woods among, And still the maid went slow and sad, And still the mother sung.

'What ails you, daughter Margaret?

Why go you pale and wan?

Is it for a cast of bitter love, Or for a false leman?'

'It is not for a false lover That I go sad to see; But it is for a weary life Beneath the greenwood tree.

'For ever in the good daylight A maiden may I go, But always on the ninth midnight I change to a milk white doe.

'They hunt me through the green forest With hounds and hunting men; And ever it is my fair brother That is so fierce and keen.'

'Good-morrow, mother.' 'Good-morrow, son; Where are your hounds so good?'

Oh, they are hunting a white doe Within the glad greenwood.

'And three times have they hunted her, And thrice she's won away; The fourth time that they follow her That white doe they shall slay.'

Then out and spoke the forester, As he came from the wood, 'Now never saw I maid's gold hair Among the wild deer's blood.

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