Down in a valley, green and low,The Summer sun, and Winter snow,Fell upon a tiny cot,Shadowed by a tall oak's top;Within the cottage, dwelt a maid,With curling locks of auburn shade,Witching eyes, of brightest blue,Simple lass, so fond and true.
Upon a mountain's rugged height,Stood a castle, tall and old,A lady fair, with brows of night,And raven hair in glossy folds,Watches from her turret pane,Though thickly falls the Autumn rainFor the prancing steed so white,That brings to her a steel-clad knight.
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Autumn's moons, have paled and waned,Winter passed, and balmy air,Kissed cot and castle, with the breath,Of May-time, sweetly fair.Unto the lady's door there came,All in the evenings sunset flame.A wanderer with a tiny babe,Craving shelter for her head.
The knight lay on his bed of rest,His wedded bride in light robe drest,Bent o'er, and sheathed a glittering knife,False, and fair, I take thy life.I leave the babe I claimed mine own,Cursed with thy blood, I now disown.
Within his grave the knight rests well,His high-born lady in convent cell,But the maiden fair with eyes of blue,To her breast holds the infants two.
