By went the page in his coat of brown,
Gay was the song he sung.
He knocked the beggar's old oak staff down;
O, but the world was young!
His laugh was rude as he danced away,
He mocked and jeered in his foolish play.
But never a word did the old man say.
Hark, have the church bells rung!
Next came, all chattering, knight and dame,
See how the rooks perch low!
“To marry a maiden so were shame,”
Twelve dark birds all a-row.
They blamed the Prince for his cruelty.
To wed with a maid all sad as she,
Whose heart he knew his could never be.
0, for a good cross-bow!
Now when they came to the great church-door,
Sing hey for the wedding-ring!
The maid she fell to a passion sore;
Hark how the choir-boys sing!
“This deed,” she said, “I do scorn and hate,
And would it save me from my sad fate,
I'd wed the beggar beside the gate.”
Ah, love is a grievous thing!
Now when this wish the proud Prince did hear,
The priest to the altar goes,
And on her cheek saw the bitter tear,
Pale is the frost-kissed rose,
He made a low and a scornful bow,
“Of love I too have had all enow,
This rival suit I shall glad allow.”
0, what a grey wind blows!
Then spake the King like the pale-cold dead,
An ill day full long,
“So you with the beggar-man would wed?”
Still is the linnet's song.
8
