• O how happy is that woman

That enjoys so true a friend; Many happy day's God send her!

And of my suit I'll make an end: On my knees I pardon crave for my offence, Which love and true affection did first commence. Commend me to that gallant lady,

Bear to her this chain of gold, With these bracelets for a token;

Grieving that I was so bold : All my jewels, in like sort, take thon with thee; For they are fitting for thy wife, but not for me. "I will spend my days in prayer,

Love and all his laws defy; In a nunnery I will shroud me,

Far from any company :
But ere my prayers have an end, be sure of this,
To pray for thee and for thy love I will not miss.
Thus farewell, most gallant captain!

Farewell to my heart's content!
Count not Spanish ladies wanton,

Though to thee my mind was bent:
Joy and true prosperity go still with thee!'
* The like fall unto thy share, most fair lady!'

Anonymous.

THE BRIDAL BED. It was a maid of low degree,

Sat on her true-love's grave; And with her tears most piteously

The green turf she did lave;

She strew'd the flowers, she pluck'd the weed,

And showers of tears she shed: Sweet turf!' she said, 'by fate decreed

To be my bridal bed.
' I've set thee, flower; for that the flower

Of manhood lieth here;
And watered thee, with plenteous showers

Of many a briny tear.'
And still she cried—'Oh stay, my love,

My true-love, stay for me :
Stay, till I've deck'd my bridal bed,

And I will follow thee.
'I pluck'd thee, weed, for that no weed

Did in his bosom grow;
But sweetest flowers, from virtue's seed,

Did there spontaneous blow.
But, ah! their beauteous tints no more

A balmy fragrance shed;
And I must strew this meaner flower,

To deck my bridal bed.
Sweet turf! thy green more green appears,

Tears make thy verdure grow :
Then thee I'll water with my tears,

Which now profusely flow,
O! stay for me, departed youth,

My true-love, stay for me;
Stay till I've deck'd my bridal bed,

And I will follow thee.
• This is the blooming wreath he wove,

To deck his bride, dear youth!
And this the ring, with which my love

To me did plight his truth;

And this dear ring I was to keep,

And with it to be wed:
But here, alas ! I sigh and weep,

To deck my bridal bed!
A blithesome knight came riding by,

And, as the bright moon shone,
He saw her on the green turf lie,

And heard her piteous moan-
For loud she cried— Oh stay, my love,

My true-love, stay for me ;
Stay, till I've deck'd my bridal bed,

And I will follow thee.'
• O say,' he said, 'fair maiden, say,

What cause doth work thy woe,
That on a cold grave thou dost lay,

And fast thy tears o’erflow?"
Oh! I have cause to weep for woe,

For my true love is dead!
And thus, while fast my tears o'erflow,

I deck my bridal bed.' • Be calm, fair maid !' the knight replied,

• Thou art too young to die; Then go with me, and be my bride,

And leave the old to sigh.'
But still she call'd— Oh stay, my love,

My true-love, stay for me;
Stay, till I've deck'd my bridal bed,

And I will follow thee.'
Oh leave,' he cried, “this grief so cold,

And leave this dread despair, And thou shalt flaunt in robes of gold,

A lady rich and fair; VOL. V.

K

Thou shalt have halls and castles fair;

And when, sweet maid! we wed, 0! thou shalt find much costly gear

To deck thy bridal bed.'
* Ah! hold thy peace, too cruel knight,

Nor urge me to despair;
With thee my troth I will not plight,

For all thy proffers fair :
But I will die, with my own true-love-

My true-love, stay for me ;
Stay, till I've deck'd my bridal bed,

And I will follow thee.
* Both halls and castles I despise :

This turf is all I crave;
For all my hopes, and all my joys,

Lie buried in this grave!
I want nor gold nor costly gear,

Now my true love is dead;
But fading flower, and scalding tear,

To deck my bridal bed.'
Oh! be my bride, thou weeping fair!

Oh! be my bride, I pray:
And I will build a tomb most rare,

Where thy true-love shall lay.'
Still, still with tears, she cried, 'My love,

My true love, stay for me!
Stay, till I've deck'd my bridal bed,

And I will follow thee.
My love-he needs no tomb so rare!

In one green grave we'll lie;
Our carved works—these flowrets fạir,

Our canopy—the sky.

Now go, sir Knight, go now thy ways,

Full soon I shall be dead:
But yet return, in some few days,

And deck my bridal bed : “Then strew the flower, and pluck the thorn,

And cleanse the turf, I pray:
So may some hand thy tarf adorn,

When thou in grave shalt lay.
But stay, oh thou whom dear I love!

My true-love, stay for me;
Stay, till I've deck'd my bridal bed,

And I will follow thee.'
• No, maid, I will not go my ways,

And leave thee here alone;
Nor, while despair upon thee preys,

Neglect thy woful moan:
But I will stay, and share thy woe;

My tears with thine I'll shed;
And help thee pluck the flower, to strow:

O'er thy sad bridal bed.'
Now from the church came forth the priest,

Whose midnight chaunt was done,
And much the hapless maid he press'd

To cease her piteous moan :
For still she cried — Oh stay, my love,

My true love, stay for me;
Stay, till I've deck'd my bridal bed,

And I will follow thee.'
O kneel with me,' he said, ' dear maid,

O kneel in holy prayer!
Haply, kind heaven may vouch thee aid,

And sooth thy sad despair.'