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THE WOEFUL LADY.
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" Then he wedded my rival false,
And she bare him a babe so fair ;
But her soul grew dim, and its. light went out,
And in madness she knew despair.
" And she slew him, my love, my love !
Rising up in the dead of night ;
And they say she wist not the thing she did,
But I know she had sore despite.
" And the babe it is mine, is mine,
But it never will thrive with me ;
For I loved the father, and spurned the mother,
And the two are gone home, Woe is me !"
The babe it awoke, and smiled up in her face, —
"Oh Jesu, Lord Jesu, grant succour, I pray !
Give us only a shelter until it be day." —
But the babe, it was weary, and sighed life away :
Oh, alas, for the woeful Lady !
