 | Ernest |  |
“Welcome, honoured ladies dear,
I have sought ye far and near;
Orchard, house, and garden round,
Sought ye far, but nowhere found.
First they said, in gipsy mood,
You were wandering thro' the wood
For wild strawberries and flowers—
There I lost—how many hours!
Next—should find you without fail
With th' old widow in the vale.
Then—but endless 'tis to roam—
Happiness is here at home.
So, I greet ye, ladies dear,
Your true knight, befal whate'er,
And my page doth follow me,
Childe of donkey chivalry,
Spurring without fail or fear,
With banner'd, no—but panier'd cheer.
Wine and wassail—but to me
Slight their worth to what I see,
Lucy, that fruit, found by thee—
Gather'd by thy hand—yes, thine—
Take all this, but that is mine;
But, 'tis time we should be gone,
See, the hours are speeding on,
And the sun and summer sky
Speak more winningly than I.
We shall find our baskets spread
There by the lone fountain head:
And this pony, safely tried,
Lucy, 'tis for thee to ride:
Only let me be his guide—
Thine too—and ere the close of day
This one guerdon wilt thou pay—
As we go, of hill and sky
To ask their hospitality,
Playing so the gipsy's part—
Look thou prove their witching art.
Read my Fate, my Fortune tell,
For thou only hast that spell.
With the yet more happy skill,
To frame that Fortune at thy will.”
I have sought ye far and near;
Orchard, house, and garden round,
Sought ye far, but nowhere found.
First they said, in gipsy mood,
You were wandering thro' the wood
For wild strawberries and flowers—
There I lost—how many hours!
Next—should find you without fail
With th' old widow in the vale.
Then—but endless 'tis to roam—
Happiness is here at home.
So, I greet ye, ladies dear,
Your true knight, befal whate'er,
And my page doth follow me,
Childe of donkey chivalry,
Spurring without fail or fear,
With banner'd, no—but panier'd cheer.
Wine and wassail—but to me
Slight their worth to what I see,
90
Gather'd by thy hand—yes, thine—
Take all this, but that is mine;
But, 'tis time we should be gone,
See, the hours are speeding on,
And the sun and summer sky
Speak more winningly than I.
We shall find our baskets spread
There by the lone fountain head:
And this pony, safely tried,
Lucy, 'tis for thee to ride:
Only let me be his guide—
Thine too—and ere the close of day
This one guerdon wilt thou pay—
As we go, of hill and sky
To ask their hospitality,
Playing so the gipsy's part—
Look thou prove their witching art.
Read my Fate, my Fortune tell,
For thou only hast that spell.
With the yet more happy skill,
To frame that Fortune at thy will.”
| Ernest | |